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whereisten · 3 years

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No Overnight Stays (m)

Summary: you’re an escort assigned to a different man for each day of the week. The rules are simple and strict, the money is grand, and simply put, you enjoy your job. But what happens when you start to develop feelings for one—or maybe two—of your clients?

Pairing: Female reader x Mark (x Jaehyun)

Genre: sugar baby!reader, smuttttt, a little fluff and a dash of angst :/ sorry, love triangle

Warnings: alcohol use, cursing, descriptive smut (breast fondling, fingering, oral sex (m and f receiving), cockwarming, slight somnophilia, facial, threesome, cream pie, impregnation kink, dirty talk, sir kink, hair pulling and spanking, double penetration, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, unprotected sex (be safe tho!), rough sex) I hope that’s it lmaooo

Word Count: 5.5K

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A man for every day of the week. That was your agreement with your escort agency. They’d set up your schedule so that you’d “belong” to one man for a specific day of the week.

Some days you’d have sex with them, some days you were just their company or a place for them to go when they got tired of their spouses.

But either way, you were paid very handsomely for your services. All you had to do was have your phone on and make sure you were available to provide the services asked of you within the hour. They all had keys to your apartment, so they could let themselves in and wait if you weren’t there.

It was easy and luckily for you, the men you dealt with were all young business men that respected you. Some were rough and demanding, some were soft and shy, but they all made sure you were comfortable with their requests and granted you a safe word. Furthermore, the agency provided you with emergency buttons for you to place in every room, just in case one of your clients got out of hand.

Tonight, you had just finished up with Yuta, an incredibly handsome man that was away from his wife back home in Japan for a 6 month job venture. A pal of his suggested the agency to him so that his needs would be satisfied while he was away from home and based on his preferences and desires, you were his top choice.

He was kind and careful, whispering sweet words into your ear as he fingered you and got you ready. He treated you like you were his wife, and you often felt your face become warm. But when he was inside you, he pushed deep and hard, making sure his hips met with your ass as he bent you over the table.

“Ahh fuck..” he curses while releasing himself into you and tugging on your hair harshly.

He pants and pulls himself out, watching as his cum mixed with yours leaks down your shaking legs.

“Did you eat?” He asks, zipping his pants as he watches you pull your panties back up.

“No not yet, but I have some leftover spaghetti that is calling my name.”

You move your hair out of your face.

“I can grab something for you before I leave..what would you like?” Yuta shimmies his jacket onto his toned body.

He was always sweet like this, unlike some men that just left.

“Ohh—Hmm...there’s a place—“ you started but his phone interrupted you.

“Oh..I’m sorry..it’s her..” He looks up at you slowly and you can see the regret fall on his face. He really loved his wife, he couldn’t help but feel guilty sometimes.

“I-I have to go.”

He turns to leave and you walk behind him to lock the door.

“Hey hun! I just left work!” His voice echoes in the hallway.

You sigh and walk to your bathroom with a slight limp. Yuta always stretched you out and left you aching slightly, but you knew it was something a little warm water would fix.

While you stood under the hot water like a sinner bathing in hell, you thought about your life. Were you really happy? Sure, the easy money you made and the “free” upscale apartment you lived in were amazing. How could you ask for more?

Well that’s just the thing, your heart didn’t care about these material things sometimes, it wanted a person. Someone that would love you, really love you. However, with a lifestyle like this, how could you expect to find a partner that would be okay with it? How could you devote time to them?

You shook your head and stepped out of the grand shower.

You poured yourself some wine and sat by yourself on the couch. It was a typical night for you. When all the fun was over, you were alone.

———

[The Next Day]

You went grocery shopping when Mark dinged you on the agency’s app. He’d be at your apartment soon so you needed to wrap things up and get back.

Mark was possibly your favorite client. The young single man was very gentle and always asked what you wanted to do. Of course, he knew that he wanted to have sex and that’s what he paid for, but he didn’t feel comfortable with handling your arranged situation that way.

Some days you’d just watch a few movies or go for coffee together. Some days he’d show you new restaurants or museums while you hung onto his arm like an actual girlfriend. He wasn’t afraid to bring you with him anywhere because the truth was that he wanted you to be his...and not just in the sexual or physical way. He wanted to date you.

Having been so consumed with work all the time, he found that you were one of the few things that made him relax and be happy, he could experience life with you and he was incredibly thankful for that.

“Hey Mark!” You struggle to get into your apartment with both arms filled with bags.

“Oh, let me get that for you.” He rushes over from the dining table and to the door to help you in.

After settling all of the bags onto the table, he chuckles. “So I take it you don’t like making two trips?”

You giggle and shake your head. “No..absolutely not. I don’t wanna waste precious time that I could be spending with you.” You teased him and stepped closer.

You held out your arm and flexed it, embarrassingly enough, no muscles showed through. “Plus, can’t you see how strong I am?”

Mark laughs out and leans forward to kiss you.

He holds your face in his hands like you were made of glass, gently caressing your cheeks as your tongue dances with his.

Your arms wrap around his waist so you feel his warm chest on yours. Your eyes shut immediately and you smelled his fresh cologne, like cotton.

He pulls away, kissing your forehead as you regain your steady breathing.

“What do you want to do today?”

Your heart races at his question. You wanted to cuddle, to just be with someone and feel loved. But that would be pushing the terms and conditions.

You search your apartment to avoid his gaze, but he knew you were deep in thought, his kiss had sent your mind into a wild frenzy. What did it mean when an escort was affected by such measly things?

“Come on..don’t think too hard now, tell me what’s the first thing that came into your mind?” Mark leans forward to whisper low into your ear. His voice, deep and husky, makes you even more confused.

You finally look up at him and sigh. “Ahh Mark, you make me feel..” You shake your head.

Were you about to be honest with him and tell him about your growing crush?

His eyes grow and a smile creeps across his face.

“Like sleeping..” You look down again, never seeing his face fall.

“Oh, dude..am I that boring?”

You chuckle and look back up at him to see the genuine hurt in his eyes.

You shake your head and press your hand onto his chest. “No-No, you’re not..it’s just..”

“Y/n...why do you keep looking at me like that?” Mark knew there was something else you wanted, he could see the doubt in your eyes, the internal struggle you faced was coming to the surface. He also knew you drank the night before based on the empty bottle of wine in the living room.

“I-I don’t know,” You chuckle and step away from him. “Maybe I’m still a little hungover. I’m sorry.”

You start to take your things out of your bags. “Help me out, will you?” You pout.

Mark chuckles and takes the bread out of the bag. “I can’t believe I’m paying for this.”

You shrug your shoulders. “You’re the one that asked me what I want to do.”

He sighs. “Okay, touché. But after this, we’ll cuddle and sleep since you’re tired and/or hungover.”

Yeah, it was 6 in the evening, but Mark was just happy to be with you.

“Sounds good.”

After you put everything away, you took Mark to your room and sat him down on the bed.

You took his hoodie off over his head, ruffling his hair in the process. You ran your fingers through it, watching as his wide eyes gazed up at you like you were an angel.

He places both hands on either side of your waist, watching as you unbutton your cardigan in front of him slowly. Mark grows hotter and hotter with each button coming undone, a slight sliver of your beautiful, soft skin growing into your naked chest drives him crazy.

“God, you’re beautiful.”

He licks his lips, tightening his grip on your waist as he brings you down onto his lap. He wastes no time, latching into your nipple and sucking it. His tongue flicks across the nub while your hands run through his scalp, causing a low groan to escape his body.

He aches for you, his member strains against his sweatpants. You feel it press onto your jeans as you also get hot. With the way Mark’s spit coats your breasts, you’re sure you’d be showing through your jeans how aroused you are soon enough.

Your room becomes steamy suddenly, the two of you filling it with moans and whimpers as he massages your breasts.

“B-baby..I want you..” You whine and grind down onto him.

Mark loves when you call him that while begging for more.

He places you down onto the bed, helping you take your jeans off as your mouth falls open.

He drags your panties down your legs slowly, teasingly.

“Baby..please..”

“I thought you wanted to sleep?” He raises an eyebrow as he pries your legs open and moves his face to the space created.

He focuses on your heat, licking his lips when he sees how wet you are already.

“Yeah..but..” your sentence is cut short when he licks a long stripe along your entrance.

“Mark!” You yelp as his tongue surprises you.

He kisses the inner skin of your thigh while still gripping the crooks of your knees. “Yes, sweetheart. Do you want me to stop? Does the little baby want to sleep?”

He asks with a mocking tone, but not without brushing two digits over your clit. You gasp and flinch under him.

“You’re so cruel..”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll just fuck you to sleep if that’s what you want.”

He says before pushing his fingers in harder, finding that fleshy spot instantly as your legs widen more. He kisses your bud while looking up at you through dark eyes.

“Am I the best one?” He asks innocently, fingers still pumping in and out of your soaking entrance.

“Y-yes..” you immediately answer without thinking, your mind solely focused on the building tension in your stomach.

He moves his head up and down as he licks your clit. He just needs to apply a bit more pressure and you’ll be in the clouds.

You intertwine your fingers with locks of his luscious brown hair and arch your back.

“More baby, please.”

“Oh look at you begging..” he breathes against your aching pussy.

He fingers pump harder and caress that one spot that he knows will have you reeling in just a few minutes.

“You know..I think you should just be mine..will you be mine?”

He says in between kisses on your clit.

And you’re so close, all you can do is nod and whimper.

You lick your lips while looking at the gorgeous man in between your legs. He locks eyes with you as his tongue works wonders on your core when combined with his fingers.

You clench around him from the sight. He chuckles and cracks a smile at how easily you fall apart. But he doesn’t let you experience the so desperately needed orgasm you need. He withdraws his fingers, a pop echoes into the room.

“Mark?!” You cry out at the sudden emptiness.

Mark mimics your pout and hovers over you.

“Why don’t you answer my question first?”

You caress his face and lick your lips. “Can we talk about this later?”

He shakes his head. “It’s a simple question, y/n. I know you feel it too.”

He was right, you did feel a connection with him, but you couldn’t let him know that. You could lose your job.

“Mark..” you whisper low as you bring his face closer to yours. You lock eyes with him, your gaze shifting from an innocent one to one that is filled with lust and fire.

“The only thing I want to feel right now is your cock..I just want to feel it so deep in my silky, wet pussy.”

He swallows hard as you push your body up slightly to rub your entrance against his crotch.

“Come on, baby..fill me up...I won’t let a single drop escape”

Mark can’t take your lustful words any longer. He pushes his prior thoughts to the side and focuses on easing his painfully hard cock.

He immediately pushes his waistband down and looks into your eyes as he pushes into you. You moan as you feel completely satisfied by his long and girthy cock filling you up and touching all parts of your velvety walls instantly.

He watches your head fall into the pillow behind you and kisses your neck.

“God..I hate the way you make me so fucking horny that I forget what I was even asking..”

It was a lie, Mark knew exactly what he was asking, but decided to push it away since you wouldn’t give in to him.

He rarely cursed when he was with you, a part of you felt that you had awoken something deep within him so you decided to push him along further. He thrusts into you slowly and gently like he usually did. Mark was your typical vanilla sex partner and it made for a great balance to the opposite partners you had. But you wanted to see just how riled up he could get.

“Oh, Mark, just yesterday another man fucked me until I couldn’t walk..how can I be yours if you can’t compete with men like that?”

You hold his face in your hand and look into his eyes.

He chuckles and pushes into you hard and sudden.

“If that’s what you want, Princess, that’s all you have to say..you know I can do whatever you ask.”

“Be rough with me, make me yours..baby.”

He presses your knees far apart and lifts himself up from your chest.

He slides in and out of you hard, watching as your breasts move up and down from his thrusts.

“You’re the perfect fit for me."

He tilts his head to the side and goes deeper.

His cock curves into you at the perfect angle, making you clench and arch your back more.

You’re sprawled out under him, your knees to your chest as you bite your bottom lip and feel that tension build again.

He runs a hand down your warm chest and stomach, his fingers draw circles onto your skin, causing small fires to dance across it. The pads of his fingertips then lift the skin above your pussy, exposing your clit to him.

He taps it gently and hums to himself. “So pretty..”

He thrusts into you hard as you squeal.

His other hand finds your throat and grips it.

“Gonna fuck you to sleep just like you asked..but then..I won’t leave..I’ll stay inside your pretty pussy since it’s mine..and I’ll fuck it again in the morning...since it’s mine.”

Mark wasn’t asking anymore. He was going to make you his. And as much as you wanted that to happen, you were nervous as you had a job to fulfill. If he stayed over and into the next morning, he’d be cutting into your other client’s day. You could be caught with him and receive a complaint for breaking the “no overnight stays” rule.

“I’m so close..” You run your hands down his abs and watch as he pounds into you from above. He pants heavily, his palm feels sweaty around your throat.

“Can’t wait to cum deep inside you..nothing will leak out..Isn’t that right, baby?” His fingertips move faster into your clit. Mark was always great at finding your sweet spots and it was because he truly cared about your pleasure.

You nod and clench around him again, feeling the head of his cock twitch.

His movement stutters from the action, he falls forward as his grip on your neck tightens.

He cums into your body, filling you to the brim with everything he has.

You climax as well, scratching into his back as you arch into him more. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as you curse.

That was the first of many climaxes for that night. You’d take breaks in between, but soon Mark was eating you out or fingering you until your nails dug into his back and you cried out his name loud enough for the neighbors to hear.

He wasn’t letting up on his promise to make you his, as each orgasm was intense and left you feeling dizzy. He was unlike any partner you had, making sure to care for your needs more than he did for his. He never even asked that you kiss him anywhere else but his mouth.

Mark releases your throat and lays on top of your sweaty body as you both climax one last time.

“You really aren’t leaving, are you?”

“I meant what I said. You’re mine.”

A brief moment of silence rests between the two of you as you massage his scalp.

“I mean, I can leave if you want me to..”

He looks up at you with round, doe eyes and your heart breaks.

“No—no..stay..” Sleep takes you over suddenly.

He watches your cute face and smiles. “Mind if I wake you up in the best way possible?”

You chuckle with your eyes closed.

“And how will you do that?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see..”

He lays back down and falls asleep on your chest.

———

[The Next Morning]

It’s the afternoon of the next day when Mark wakes up before you do and finds his cock engulfed in your pussy still.

He swallows hard, immediately feeling himself grow when he sees your eyes closed as you pout your lips and breathe heavily.

“Y/n..” He whispers, but your eyes don’t open yet.

“Y/n..” He says once more, this time he picks himself up and cages you in between his arms as he holds himself up above your head.

He kisses your forehead. “Wake up, Princess.”

He then buries his head into the crook of your neck and fondles your breast.

He couldn’t hold back much longer, but he wanted you to be awake first. He lays sloppy kisses onto your shoulder before biting it.

“Mmm..Mark..” You say drowsily.

And with the sound of your soft voice and the feeling of your delicate fingers on his waist, Mark begins to thrust into you.

Your eyes are still closed as he fucks you into consciousness, the post-dream haze combined with his kisses and long thrusts makes you feel light headed.

“How does it feel, baby?”

He moves in and out of you while panting.

You mumble something while enjoying the warmth of his pulsing body on yours. He presses his thumb on your clit, rubbing circles.

“Mm..faster, baby.” you mumble as your heat grows, your eyes closed while you enjoy your realistic dream.

He then intertwines his fingers with yours, and moves into you faster. Within just a few minutes he cums hard as you shake around him.

And it’s not until he pulls out of you and flips onto his back that he realizes there’s another man in the room.

At the edge of the bed stands a tall handsome man with black hair. He stares sternly onto your body with his hands in the pockets of his suit jacket.

“Oh shit!” Mark is frightened and quickly drapes the blanket over you.

“Who the hell are you?” He asks.

You finally pry your eyes open and scratch your head.

“It’s me...y/n.”

“N-no no I mean..who is that and why is he just staring? Dude.. what the hell?!”

“What?” You rub your eyes and look up. And as your eyes focus you see that sure enough it was your Tuesday client, Jaehyun, staring intensely at you.

“Oh fuck..” You struggle to sit up straight in the bed. “Jaehyun..I’m so sorry, I overslept and-and..”

“Shhh..it’s okay, y/n..” His voice is sweet, but his face says the opposite.

“I see someone has gotten quite greedy with you..”

You turn to Mark, and it all comes back to you. He said he would stay over and you knew the risk you were taking, but you allowed him to anyway.

“Do you want me to push the emergency button?” Jaehyun asks smoothly.

“N-no! That won’t be necessary, I let him stay over actually..”

Your face becomes warm, it feels like you were caught by a parent with your boyfriend.

“I didn’t hear my phone go off with the alert saying you’d be coming over, I’m so sorry but he can leave and I’ll get cleaned up and we can start, just give me a few minutes—“

You start to get off the bed, but Jaehyun raises his hand.

“It’s okay, y/n..I know you see other men, that’s your job, isn’t it?” Jaehyun smirks.

He was one of those clients whose calm demeanor was difficult to read. He was intimidating and made you feel like you were up for terrible punishment at any moment. You never seemed to answer his questions to his satisfaction. In part to his recent divorce, he was rough, unforgiving, a stark contrast to Mark who just sat there awkwardly on the bed.

You nod slowly.

His gaze turns to Mark, his hands still in his pockets. “Was my slut good for you?”

“My?” Hold on..she doesn’t belong to you and no, she’s not a slut..”

Without moving his eyes, Jaehyun calls out to you. “Y/n...remove the blanket and open your legs for me..”

You immediately do as he says, but Mark stops you by holding your wrist. “Hey, you don’t have to do that.”

“It’s okay, Mark. This is what I do, please don’t forget that.” You give him a small smile as you lift the blanket.

You bend your knees while widening your legs.

You can feel the cool air hit your moist entrance.

“Now look at her, Mark...look at how much cum is in her beautiful pussy..only a slut can look like that..”

“Oh fuck off..”

“No, YOU fuck off, you’re cutting into my time..or don’t..”

Jaehyun loosens his tie and takes his jacket off.

“As a matter of fact, let’s see how much prettier she looks when she’s filled up with both of us, what do you say Mark?”

Mark begins to panic and turns to you.

“What..“

“Stay...I want to make you feel good too..” you say, knowing that Jaehyun’s proposal wasn’t really a question. He was going to find some way to make Mark stay, it was his way of punishing both him and you.

“Good girl..” Jaehyun zips his pants down, revealing his already hard member. He grew when he watched Mark fuck you out of your sleep. He wanted to do that badly, but understood long ago the rules for this agreement. One of them being “no overnight stays.” But Mark clearly didn’t respect this. Maybe he thought you were his, but surely he was wrong.

Jaehyun wanted you just as badly as he did, and he wouldn’t stop until you were his.

“On your stomach, sweetheart, show him what your mouth can do..”

“Yes, sir.” You’re still weak from the night before but do as you’re told.

“Y/n..you don’t have to..” Mark caresses your face with his thumb.

“I know..but I want to..”

“She wants to please us..isn’t that right, slut?” Jaehyun brings an arm under your stomach to bring your ass up towards him.

“Y-yes, sir.” You struggle to get out once you feel his cock rub against your thigh.

You start by wrapping your hand around Mark’s semi-flaccid length, you pump it up and down while twisting. He groans and sits up straight.

Jaehyun enters you from behind, gripping your hip tightly as he pushes into you hard.

You moan loudly as his long cock stretches you out without warning.

“Ahh..fuck.” You gasp.

He slaps your ass hard, you stumble slightly on your knees but Mark helps you stay up.

“Don't be like that, sweetheart, I see how wet you are. Now, open your fucking mouth.”

“I’m sorry, sir.” You whimper then lick Mark’s tip.

“You’re just a slut with cum leaking out of you all the time, you’re always ready, aren’t you?”

You kiss Mark’s tip then answer Jaehyun. “Yes, sir.”

He hums and slaps your ass again.

He rubs his hand over the area to feel it become warm.

He then pulls back and watches his veiny cock glisten with cum.

Meanwhile, you take half of Mark’s length into your mouth and begin to suck, rubbing the tip on the inside of your cheek as you listen to him groan.

Jaehyun buries himself deep inside you again, pushing past your vibrating entrance and deep into your walls where he feels his cock be greeted with that ticklish spot.

You move your head lower and allow spit to coat Mark’s entire length.

“God..that feels good.” He moans as his head falls back.

You suck harder and continue to twist your hand around his base.

You hum to push him along with vibrations.

The sounds of Jaehyun’s hips slapping against your ass gets louder as he glides in faster.

“Her pussy gets wetter and wetter, tsk tsk what a slut.”

He pushes harder, bending over your back so his abs rest against it. He grabs your hair and pushes your head down onto Mark faster.

You gag and tears escape your eyes as Mark’s length hits the back of your throat repeatedly.

You gag over and over, causing the two men to become even hotter than they were before.

“That’s it, sweetheart, cry for me..”

And you did cry as your throat became irritated and your pussy was being destroyed from the back, Jaehyun stretched it out more than he ever did, but you didn’t want to stop.

You felt like you were being undone, like you wouldn’t be able to talk or walk after, but it didn’t matter, just as long as you pleased these two men.

Jaehyun’s hand finds your clit, slapping against it before rubbing circles onto it.

You moan loudly, sending a delicious vibration onto Mark. He whimpers and pulls out of your mouth, before watching spurts of white leave his tip and decorate your mouth and tongue.

Your mouth stays open as Jaehyun pulls your head back towards him now. Your breasts jump forward and back as Mark pants and watches you be brought to paradise by another man.

“Sir..I’m going to..”

Jaehyun grunts. “You don’t deserve to cum, but I’ll let you because you’re a needy slut.”

And with that, you quiver around Jaehyun, gripping the pillows and shaking uncontrollably.

Mark feels himself becomes aroused yet again from the sight.

Jaehyun pulls out quickly and sits against the headboard. He picks your body up and puts you over his lap, but doesn’t push his cock into you yet.

“Mark..I think you should return the favor.” Jaehyun says as he grabs the crook of your knees with each hand opens you up.

Mark gladly agrees and puts his head in between your legs once more. He licks up your essence and begins to eat you out, nuzzling his nose against your clit as you cry out.

Jaehyun takes your chin and turns your fucked out face towards his while you struggle to close your legs.

“S-sir..please, it’s too much.”

Jaehyun shakes his head. “Nothing is too much for a whore like you..Mark loves your pussy, and so do I.”

He kisses your shoulder as a strand of hair dangles in his forehead.

He flicks your nipples with his fingers, watching as you fall apart in his arms.

Mark’s head moves from side to side as he licks your bud and pushes as hard as he can.

“Look at you..open wide for two men.”

Jaehyun whispers into your ear as you tremble. “We won’t stop until we’ve both put a baby in you...but you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes..fuck..yes..sir.”

Soon, you’re cumming again and seeing stars.

Mark pulls away and wipes his mouth, watching as your wetness ruins the sheets below you.

“Do you think she can take us both?” Jaehyun still plays with your hard nipples.

Mark chuckles. “I’m not really into sharing..but we should find out.” He caresses your face again as your mouth falls open.

He puts his thumb into it, watching as you suck it hard with your teary eyes wide.

Jaehyun lifts you up slightly so he can enter you again.

You fall onto him easily but whimper as you try to overcome your sensitivity.

Jaehyun forces you open wide with his hands on your knees, your feet dig into the bed as you bounce up and down on him. His touch sends electricity through your veins.

Mark holds his cock in his own hand, stroking it while watching you fall onto Jaehyun’s length.

Your beautiful entrance is soaked and he just wants to feel it too.

Jaehyun looks into Mark’s hungry eyes and lets out a low growl.

“Go on, Mark. Fuck her like the needy whore she is.”

Jaehyun scoots down on the bed more so he is laying under you. Mark lays down over you and guides his tip along your slit.

“Mark..” you cry out while Jaehyun thrusts into you from below.

“Are you sure?” He licks his lips.

You nod and take his length into your own hand. “Yes..”

You push him into you slowly as Jaehyun pauses his movement. Your head falls back as your pussy is stretched out once more. You’d never done this before, but then again, you’d never been with two men.

“Shit...” you close your eyes tightly as both men fill you up.

Jaehyun sits up, holding you in his arms as he guides you up and down both his and Mark’s cocks now.

You’re so right and Mark is embarrassed to admit that he is just moments from climaxing already, the friction of two cocks against your tight silky walls driving all of you crazy.

“Mmm..sweetheart, you’re doing so well..”

Jaehyun whispers. His tone is gravelly and he is just moments away also, sweat pricking at his forehead as you glide onto him.

The sound of skin against skin and loud moans and groans fills the room, you wonder if your neighbors will make a complaint. But right now, in this moment of complete ecstasy, you could care less.

Jaehyun’s tip twitches, vibrating against Mark’s and hitting your g-spot. You all come undone within seconds and experience an orgasm that lasts for what feels like an eternity.

All three of you collapse onto the bed, and you and Jaehyun fall asleep soon after. You should’ve cleaned yourself up, but your body aches and feels weak after orgasming so many times.

After 20 minutes of just watching you sleep, Mark gets up from the bed and goes to your bathroom. He comes back with a washcloth and cleans you up gently while watching you snore lightly.

Jaehyun’s back is turned to you so he can’t see Mark taking care of you by cleaning your exhausted body.

Before he leaves, he drapes your blanket over you and kisses your forehead. He also leaves a bouquet of flowers that he bought from someone selling them just outside of your apartment building. He went back to your apartment just to leave them there for you when you woke up. But really, he just wanted one last chance to see your beautiful face as you slept peacefully.

You wake up hours later to find yourself alone once again. You hop out of bed but soon remember what happened based on the aching feeling in your legs.

You’re happy to see that you're clean however, the sticky feeling of cum no longer being all over you. Someone must’ve cleaned you up, you thought to yourself.

With a limp, you walk out to your kitchen and see take-out food on your counter with a note attached, beside it you also see a bouquet of flowers.

“Thanks for today, see you next week. Love, J.”

Jaehyun left you food, flowers, and cleaned you up before he left. Maybe he did care for you after all. This is what you thought as you smiled to yourself.

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zafirosreverie · 3 years

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Must be the eyes (Teacher!Agatha x Fem!Student!Reader) part 8

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 6) (part 7)

a/n: Does anyone still read this? I’m sorry for not posting in days, but here it is! I hope you enjoy it!

- - - - - - - - - - -

Wanda smiled and rolled her eyes fondly as she read the message that Agatha had sent.

"Y/N 's sick. I'll stay to take care of her. It's your turn to take care of the girls."

The redhead knew exactly what that meant. She knew you weren't sick at all, but it was the last day in Salem and her friend just wanted to spend it with you. If she was honest with herself, she had been quite surprised when Agatha told her about her...she wasn't really sure if you were dating or not, but at least she knew there were kisses and sex.

Either way, she was happy for you (even though it had been embarrassing to go to reception and say that they weren't going to change rooms after all) and had been covering you for the past two weeks.

"Okay, tell Miss Y/L/N that I hope she feels better soon"

______________

Agatha giggled lightly and made a mental note to buy the red-haired woman dinner, before throwing her phone on the nightstand. Wanda had been a great help in these two weeks and the brunette was completely grateful for it.

You grunted a little and rolled over on the bed, unconsciously pressing yourself against the older woman's chest. Agatha smiled and kissed your head, stroking your back.

This was something completely different from what you had done so far. Not the sex, that was still as wild as the first day. But this, waking up with you in her arms and allowing herself to contemplate you as the daylight filtered through the curtains. That was new.

You guys had made a pact (well actually, she had made all the rules ... but you had nodded, which meant you were in complete agreement ... right?) That you could only use the nights for yourselves.

So when morning came, she would get up quickly and go to bathe. By the time she came out, you were already waking up, so she just left you in the room alone, so you could get ready.

She didn't talk to you all day and she rarely came near you. There was no need, after all. You were hers.

She couldn't explain the wave of relief that washed over her. Knowing that you belonged to her, that everything you put on, what you did, was for her, it was a great liberation. She no longer had to torture herself by thinking you were someone else’s.

The only thing that hadn't changed was that her eyes were constantly on you. She watched every step you took, every time you sat down (she didn't want you to show too much, ok? Those legs were hers), but especially, she watched every interaction you had with Nicholas Jadu.

You had told her that she had nothing to worry about, that you were just friends. And of course she believed you, she trusted you. Just...not him.

But either way, she didn't have to worry about it. Not today. Today you would be in bed all day and she would enjoy her last day with you to the fullest.

Yes, maybe she should have asked you first before reporting you sick ... but she was sure you would agree.

You always did.

_____________

You stretched out a bit before you started rubbing your eyes. You were feeling a bit tired, but it was nothing new to you. In recent days, waking up exhausted, with weak legs, sore arms, and hickeys all over the body, was common.

You sighed quietly before you rolled. Or well, try to roll. You frowned when your back hit something, and you felt a grip on your hip. You opened your eyes and found your head buried in Agatha's chest.

Okay- This...this wasn’t common.

She never woke up next to you. She always slipped away before the sun finished rising and she left you in the room, by yourself. She said it was to be safe, to avoid raising suspicions. Too bad that meant that the brunette could never see your disappointed face, nor the trembling of your legs, which was not from the activities of the night before, but from fear.

Fear of stepping into a trap. Fear of recognizing in those blue eyes that you loved so much, the shadow of those green ones that hurted you so much.

"She's not like that" you thought, trying to reassure yourself. But it all felt too much the same.

_________________

Agatha frowned slightly when she saw you lost in thought. She didn't want to intrude, but she couldn't help but worry, either. Maybe you were really sick?

"Y/N?" she asked softly, making you jump slightly "everything fine in that little head of yours?"

"Y-yes" you mumbled "just...I was finishing waking up" you lied

The brunette didn't seem to believe you, but she decided not to pressure you, so she just nodded and kissed your head. You sighed a little and felt your cheeks blush. You liked being like this, calm in her arms. But something was still wrong ...

"Aggs ..." you whispered

The woman smiled a little, she loved when you called her that. "Yes, my love?"

"...why are you here?" you asked carefully.

Agatha frowned and looked at you for a moment, somewhat confused. You didn't want her to be there? Weren't you glad to wake up with her? But then a pang of guilt attacked her.

Of course you would be confused! She never woke up next to you. She cursed herself for a moment, before looking at you again and giving you a smile that she hoped was reassuring.

"It's our last day" she told you "I wanted to be with you" she admitted, stroking your cheek.

You blushed a little more and looked away from her, making her laugh a little. She kissed you on the temple again, before taking your chin and lifting your face a little so she could kiss you on the lips.

"We'll be late" you murmured against her mouth "Surely they are already waiting for us"

Agatha smiled at you and shook her head slightly.

"I ... I told Wanda you were sick" she said, a little embarrassed "I know I should have asked you first, but-"

"It’s okay" you interrupted her.

Yes, it would have been nice if she woke you up to ask you before doing it, but you were grateful and a little touched by the gesture. She had put her job aside to be with you, after all.

"We can always say that you felt better" she told you "If at any time you want to go out, we will simply say that you already feel good"

You smiled and let her kiss you again. Unlike the heated kisses she gave you at night, before throwing you on the bed, this kiss was calm, slow, and loving. Her hand on your waist didn't make you feel excited, but it did make you feel loved and protected.

You liked this Agatha Harkness. The one who took care of you, who made you feel special and loved. The one who simply wanted to be with you because she could, not to satisfy some need.

"Do you want breakfast?" she asked after a while of kissing you "I can go down to buy something"

"Well ... I wouldn't say no to some pancakes" you said, smiling shyly.

"Pancakes will be then" she replied.

The brunette leaned over you again and kissed you deeply one last time, before getting up and changing to go out

_______________

Agatha was careful when she went down to the hotel’s restaurant and ordered breakfast. It wasn't that she was afraid that some student would see her or that they would start asking questions, she had an alibi ready. But she preferred not to be withholding more than necessary. She wanted to get back to you as soon as possible.

The woman knew she hadn't been entirely fair to you in recent weeks. But she hadn't known what else to do. She wanted to be with you, she wanted to hold your hand as you walked, hug you, take care of you. But she couldn't risk doing it in public, and by the time the night came, she needed you so badly that she just blurted out, taking what she wanted from you.

No, it wasn't a good excuse, and she knew it. But she was hoping she could make it up to you a little today.

_______________

"Pancakes and a couple of flowers" you said, smiling when the brunette offered you a small bouquet of violets that you recognized as one of the ones sold outside the hotel. "Either there is bad news or someone is trying to get on my good side" you joked, but you couldn't help your heart flutter. It was a nice touch of her part.

"A bit of both" admitted the woman.

You frowned a bit, watching her as she carelessly tossed her purse onto the dresser and kicked off her shoes. Agatha smiled at you as she climbed on top of you on the bed and kissed you again. Okay, there had been a lot of kisses today and it was barely 10, what was going on?

"There's bad news because it's our last day" she said "And I'm trying to get on your good side because I don't want anything to change between us when we get back" she said

"A little late for that, don’t you think?" you said

"Touché" she laughed lightly, getting off you and sitting next to you "Well, I don't want things to change too much between us" she said

"Well I'm sure my classmates will still make me sit in the front row as a totem to calm the storm" you joked

Agatha laughed heartily at this and seeing her so free and open was a beautiful sight.

"I'm glad to hear that" she said, kissing your cheek "I miss our little arguments" she admitted

"Me too" you said

"And we still have a pending debate" she said "Don't think we finished with Medusa"

Now you laughed heartily and shook your head. You were more than ready for that debate.

The brunette leaned on your shoulder as you finished your breakfast, leaving a trail of lazy kisses on your neck. One of her hands pulled a lock of hair from your face and caressed your cheek, while she wrapped her other arm around you.

You were confused at how different she was acting, but this...yeah, this felt good.

___________

You sighed when you got off the bus.

It all felt so surreal, like you had just woken up from a dream (or a two week coma). You just felt different. You weren't the same girl you had been before Salem.

Your classmates came and went with their suitcases, some talking, others laughing, others too tired. You watched Nick kiss Dalton goodbye on the cheek and you smiled. At least one of you could continue your love story.

You discreetly looked in the direction of the teachers and were not surprised to find a pair of blue eyes staring at you.

Neither of you moved. You didn’t smile, didn’t greet each other, didn’t walk towards each other. Nothing. You just looked at each other and you felt your chest tighten a bit. You knew it was a goodbye.

Your time was up.

But it was okay. The universe had given you almost two weeks with this woman. Yes, maybe there were things you didn't like (that terrified you, actually), like her jealousy and possessiveness. But there were also things that you would keep in your memory forever, like her kisses, her arms drawing you to her to sleep, the way she caressed your cheek or the way she made you feel pretty.

Also, you held in your arms the reminder of what you had shared with her.

Agatha looked at you as you sighed again and grabbed your suitcase, walking towards Nicholas's car. She would have offered to drive you home, but she had to stay until each and every student was gone and she didn't want to have you there waiting.

Besides, she knew that she would only be delaying the inevitable. The deadline was up and you had to go back to being just teacher and student.

However, when she saw you get into the car with little Aggie in your arms, she smiled to herself. All the way back, the doll had been sitting between the two of you, serving as a shield so that no one else could see that your hands were intertwined.

She had to admit that she had been flattered and touched when the doll's name escaped from your mouth. You had turned red and she had giggled, but she had told you that it was a nice name. You had smiled at her and, taking care that no one saw, you had given her a quick kiss.

Damn. She was going to miss you.

Well, at least her mini-me would be safe in your arms. Lucky doll.

"Harkness, a little help around here" Wanda called her. Agatha sighed and gave you one last look before turning and walking to the redhead. She didn't notice the sad smile you gave her.

________________

You sighed in relief when you finally got into bed later that night. Finally you began to feel all the weight and fatigue of the trip.

Also ... you didn't want to think about how huge and cold your bed felt, or the presence that was missing next to you. You told yourself it was part of the deal, that this was agreed upon.

You didn't want to, but you tried to remember the bad things. The times she scolded you out of jealousy, how she subtly tried to control you. All of that. You needed to convince yourself that it was just an affair and that was all. That you shouldn't want more.

But then you remembered the good things too. And of course, your heart, ignoring your brain, decided that that was more than enough to forgive the other.

"Damn woman" you muttered "Did she have to stay so buried in my head?"

You rolled onto your side and looked at the doll on your nightstand. You felt a warmth in your chest, similar to the one you felt the day you opened the gift on your bed.

You jumped a bit when your cell phone vibrated and the screen lit up with a new message. Frowning at the time, you took it. Your heart stopped for a moment and you couldn't help but smile like an idiot when you opened it.

From: Ms Harkness

Miss you.

I know I'm breaking the agreement, but I needed you to know.

Damn this woman and the way she controls you. It seems that you would fall under her spell again and see her in your dreams.

From: You

I miss you too

Wish you were here.

From: Ms. Harkness

I wish I was there too.

I don't know if I can fulfill the agreement, Y/N. It's only been a few hours and I already need you.

From: You

In a good way, I hope?

From: Agatha

In all ways ;)

You laughed a bit at that and cursed her again.

From: Agatha

It's late, I should let you sleep.

see you tomorrow.

From: you

I don't know if I can sleep. But okay.

See you tomorrow.

From: Agatha

Good night.

I love you

Your heart jumped a bit and you felt butterflies in your stomach at the last message.

From: you

Love you too.

You turned off the cell phone and left it next to the doll, again in her spell then.

"You're right little Aggie" you smiled "it must be the eyes".

Alerts kept going on in your head, telling you, begging you, not to fall, to remember how much she scared you when she demanded that you stop spending time with Nick. But your heart was telling you that she really loved you, that you should give her a chance to prove it.

Agatha Harkness and her way of confusing you. She did things that just made you forget her mistakes. You just hoped you weren't committing a bigger one.

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Tags: @midnight-lestrange @amethyst-bitch @juliejules-089 @novohyde @annie-mit-ie @shinkomiii @agentbrownierso @swanqueensupercorp @philippaharkness @rainbow-hedgehog @parkerprolly @booklovinbi @bloodyfool @marvelseverything @superpearlnerd @rooskaya-yelena @danvers97 @notsosecretlyalesbian @thoroughly--confused @tomy5girls @celasteria @teenwonder @paulawand @fallingfor-fics @an-evergreen-rose @enbyjareau @mochiadria @sarahp-stan @p-nymph

#x reader #reader insert #imagine #agatha harkness #agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness imagine #agatha harkness x y/n #agatha harkness x you #agnes x reader #agnes imagine #agnes wandavision #must be the eyes #MBTE

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sapiowoman28 · 3 years

Text

I can, I can't: Part 2 of 3

Pairing: Jaemin x female reader

Genre: smut, fluff, friends to lovers au

Warning: smut, flirting, spanking, male dom, female bratty sub

Tags: @nctlover94 @m1ss-foodi3 @heyyyun

The days that followed were hard. It was as if something had taken over Y/N, and she was perpetually horny, not from anything but from her thoughts of Jaemin doing things to her. Lucas was happy to help, but after 3 days of meeting, he was puzzled.

"You're never like this. What happened?" he asked, as they were soaking in the bathtub post sex.

Y/N wasn't sure if she should tell him. It wouldn't be nice.

"I don't know..." she lied. "I wish it'd stop. I need to focus on my assignments."

"About that, I can't meet you any more this week. I have 3 due next week and i haven't started on aything." Lucas looked regretful.

"It's ok, Lucas, we both need to finish our assignments"

She decided she'd focus on her assignments instead, and work on them in the library - where the wifi was pretty good - instead of home so she wouldn't have to face Jaemin. Not until she was sure about what she wanted to do.

So day by day, she left the house early and returned late. The boys texted her as usual, and she replied. But with Jaemin, she was reticent. Instead of her usual teasing, she provided one or two word replies. She was afraid she'd attempt to flirt with him and things would go overboard.

The good part was she made pretty good progress on her assigments. They were her best yet this year, and she was pleased. She was working through the conclusion to one of her papers when she was interrupted.

"Hey!"

She froze, looking up. Jaemin, sitting down on the seat opposite hers.

"Hey Jae." she smiled. "Lost?"

"I study, ok? he threw his hands up. Then proceeded to unzip his laptop bag.

"What are you doing here?" she watched him suspiciously. Neither Jaemin nor Jeno were library people.

"I've an assignment to complete. And I haven't seen you for days. I just wanted to know you were ok. You haven't been very normal."

"Speak for yourself. Any updates on your turbulent sex life?" she grinned, inwardly proud at how she deflected his question.

"I got my ID back. Told him i could report him for assault AND retaining my ID. You should have seen his face." he said proudly.

"Told you you'd be fine standing up to him. He had no right to hit you," she giggled.

"Thanks." he said, reaching across the table to rub her arm affectionately. She flinched. She wished her friends weren't so touchy with one another sometimes.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"I'm not in a mood to be touched." she said awkwardly. "I'm going through a phase."

"Ok. I won't touch you then" he shrugged and started getting to work on his assignment.

Y/N looked at him. He was beautiful, she thought. The lashes. The way he concentrated. Or when he frowned to himself. No wonder he was known as the handsome one.

it was hard to focus with Jaemin sitting opposite her. Her previous momentum was lost. She wished he hadn't come. But she told herself she wasn't going to let her assignment be affected. So she struggled through the conclusion and soon managed to complete her assignment.

"If you give me 15 minutes, we can go for lunch after that." he said, not looking up. She agreed, looking at the surrounding tables. She saw Renjun a few tables away with a girl. Their eyes met. He waved. She raised her eyebrows and he faked an annoyed look before turning back his attention on the girl.

"Someone's getting lucky soon." Y/N commented.

"Who?" Jaemin asked still focussed on his laptop.

"Renjun."

"Oh. It's not going to work. She has a boyfriend."

"They can still fuck."

"Are you aerious?" Jaemin looked up half amused.

"She's not married." she shrugged. "You need to loosen up."

"You have no morals." he declared.

"I'm proud of that." she winked. "Seriously, you need to try living life on the edge a little."

"Getting caught in bed and getting beaten up not wild enough for you?"

"Well, it depends. Were you handcuffed?"

Jaemin gasped. "Censor yourself, Y/N!"

"Or was she? What position were you guys caught in?" she knew she had crossed a line but somehow couldn't stop herself.

"Y/N!"

"Yes, Mr Na?"

Jaemin brought his face close to hers.

"I said stop it." he said, voice low and gravelly. Y/N felt herself pool.

"What if i don't?" she challenged him, looking him straight in the eye.

"I suggest you don't challenge me." he said through gritted teeth.

"I'll think about it." She said. folding her ams in front of her, eyes twinkling.

"Yo! What's Jaemin doing here?" Haechan asked as he plonked down on the chair next to hers.

Jaemin leaned back and relaxed, breaking into a smile.

"Y/N thinks I'm lost."

"You ARE lost." Y/N laughed, looking at Jaemin who was still keeping his composure. "Someone needs to guide you back onto the right path."

"I don't know. Being guided isn't my kind of thing. I prefer to be the one guiding."

"Now I'm lost!" Haechan whined. "What's happening?"

Y/N sighed.

"Let's go for lunch." she said.

Things got worse from there. Jaemin began avoiding her, staying cooped up in his room as much as he could, spending time either doing his assignments or gaming. Y/N was upset, though she wasn't sure if she was upset with herself or with him.

All she knew was things were awkward now. She tried texting him but he either didn't reply or replied with one word answers. She had to do something. There wasn't much opportunity though, since there never seemed a time where they were both home alone. And the last thing she wanted was for the rest of the guys to get involved.

Then one night two weeks later, all the boys decided to head out to the clubs to party to celebrate the submission of all their assignments. Y/N gave it a pass. She wasn't one for clubs - the loud music and the lights and the smells always gave her a headache. She had previously tried of course, but it mostly turned out unpleasant for her - the same throbbing headache that progressively got worse over the course of the night and made her feel sick.

So the guys headed out and she decided to soak in the bathtub in the bigger bathroom. She dropped her favourite vanilla scented bath bomb into the warm water, and got it after removing her clothes and giving the water a few swishes. This was the life, she thought. Who wanted to be stuck in some club against sweaty bodies and wake up with a hangover the next day?

After her bath, she took time to put on a mask and applied lotion to her body. She was glad all her assignments had been submitted, and this was a good time to pamper herself after all the hard work.

When she was done, she put on an oversized t-shirt that came down to her mid thigh and wore her favourite red cotton underwear. Feeling upbeat, she headed to the kitchen to make some pasta. It was just 9pm when the front door opened. She looked up from the ham she was slicing.

Jaemin. She forgot he had not gone with them. In fact, he had been out most of the day, probably at the cafe he worked at on some weekends.

"Need dinner?" she asked, somewhat unsure if he would respond. "I'm making some pasta."

"Dinner would be good," he nodded with a slight smile. "I can open a bottle of wine after i have my shower." He knew he just had to stop behaving like a dick now.

She grinned. "Yes please!"

He went and took a quick shower before coming back, smelling fresh.

"The bathroom smells nice." he said, sniffing. "Actually you smell nice too."

"Jaemin! At least say the food I'm making smells nice!" Y/N poked his arm. He embraced her from the back.

"I missed you." he said.

She felt his chest against her back.

"Missed you too. Why were you avoiding me?" she asked.

"Why were YOU avoiding me?" he asked her back.

Neither of them said anything.

She took the pan off the stove and divided the pasta into two bowls. Jaemin opened the wine and they both sat at the dining table for dinner. The air was tense as they ate silently.

"Jae," she said, not being able to take the silence any longer. "I know i shouldn't have ignored you. But I've been struggling."

He put his fork down. He tried to grab her hand but she pulled it away nervously.

"I'm listening, Y/N," he said gently.

"I can't stop thinking of yo...."

But she couldn't finish, as he grabbed her face and brought it closer to his. She felt her heart beat faster as he looked her in the eye.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked, looking at her in the eye, his face tensed up, his voice low and trembling. "Do you know what you're doing to me?"

"I know I'm probably not your type...." she began but he cut her off.

"Don't speak for me, Y/N. Everything about you drives me nuts! Your laughter, the way you tease me. Everything! You're such a bad girl, Y/N!"

"I've never said I was good. I don't have morals, remember?" she grinned. "Maybe you'd have to teach me how to behave, Mr Na."

He felt his cock twitch. He grabbed her by the arm.

"What are you doing?" she asked, struggling as he stood up, taking her with him. Roughly, he pushed her against the kitchen cabinet.

"Bend over!" he demanded, grip getting tighter. She had no choice but to comply, yelping as she felt his hand land hard on her butt.

"Ouch! What the hell, Jaemin?"

"You deserve to be spanked for taunting me in the library." he said through gritted teeth, landing another smack. She gasped.

"That hurts!"

"Good! Maybe next time you wouldn't think of being such a tease." he said, giving her yet another smack. "3! We're going to 10!"

"!0?!" she tried to wriggle out of his grip. It was no use.

"4!" he said, landing yet another slap. She bit her lip. It was hurting more and more as the number of spanks progressed. But she didn't dislike it.

"5!" she felt her eyes watering. This was getting too painful.

"6!"

"Jae, please, it hurts!"

"Say one more word and I'll make it 20!" he warned.

She gave up, whimpering as he gave her another 4 blows, tears rolling down her face. Finally he let her go. She turned around and shoved him.

"Do that one more time and watch what i'll do!" she warned. He grabbed her by the back of her neck, forcing her to look closely at him again.

"You need to get one thing right," he hissed, as he wiped her tears away with his fingers. "I'm the one in charge here."

"Oh yeah?" she challenged him. "We'll see about that."

"Listen, you're not in a position to argue with me. Do you want me to fuck you or not?" he asked. "Yes or no?"

Silence. She glared at him.

"Answer me." he said, glaring back.

"Fine." she said. "We'll play by your rules."

He let go, suddenly going back to his usual self. "The food's getting cold. Let's eat."

"No, Jae...." she pleaded. "Fuck me, now, please!"

"I'm not fucking you tonight, Y/N."

"Nobody's home now!"

"I'll decide and let you know when I'm ready," he said firmly.

She reaiised that she had to be fair and wait for him to be ready. She sighed.

"Fine." she said.

If only he knew how wet she was, from the spanking he gave her, she thought to herself.

#nct dream smut #jaemin smut #nct jaemin smut #nct dream imagines #nct haechan #nct renjun #nct jeno #nct imagines #nct smut #na jaemin #nct nana

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jjkpls · 4 years

Text

set your world alight (m)

genre : fluff, smut, tiny lil bit of angst

pairing : jeon jungkook x reader (f)

word count : 24k (eye-)

warnings/content : mentions of bruises, mature language, long haired jaykay, awkwardness & cutesy overload, clumsy frustrating idiot(s), bratty reader, explicit sexual content (fingering, handjob, protected penetrative sex), HARRYPOTTER!AU (i cant believe i forgot to precise that in the teasers), jeon as charlie weasley, pretty much.

Jeon Jungkook is a mystery. Master of dragons. Long dark locks hiding a face most have never seen. Skin covered in scars. A brave, unpenetrable, curious being that you don’t know much about for, the very few times you’ve seen him in your life, you didn’t dare talk to him. Of course, you’d have the fatest crush on him.

“If we add roses instead of eucalyptus, wouldn't it turn into a love potion?”

You could have predicted it. If you were to have spent your evening scribbling the course that this morning, with the introducing of a new potion to your year 6 class, would take, solely based on intuition and experience, you would have gotten it right. Down to who's asking the question.

“No, it won’t.”

“Are you sure?”

Are you? After having spent your whole schooling career in Hogwarts, having studied the art of potion-making for five years filled with internships in the four corners of this Earth, in the greatest House of Potions there are, are you sure?

You could say all that. You could even tell to this annoying Gryffindor to shut the hell up because everyone, and you first, can’t stand to hear her voice anymore, interrupting constantly every lesson either with pointless questions or with obnoxious jabber.

But you don’t. Obviously, you don’t.

“For now, let’s just focus on learning what the actual recipe is. We’ll worry about interchanging ingredients later.”

Which is almost a lie. You won’t ever do that with them. You have your tight program, with a limited amount of recipes, that you’re supposed to go through with them. And creating new potions, or adapting already existing one to discover new effects are not on the plan. Not with Mrs Umbridge watching closely over every Hogwarts teachers' shoulders.

If they ever still find themselves obsessed with their dating life and enlarged pores once they'll be done with school, they will worry, on their very own, about creating the magic juices and ointments they need -given their lack of attention, investment and overall talent, you do sincerely hope they drop it because the results might lead to catastrophes but that's beside the point.

Miss Gryffindor sighs loudly. Turning slightly on her chair to roll her eyes to her friends, who snicker along, they’re whispering Merlin knows what about you and you’re just left there, trying to find your way back to the lesson without losing too much of your composure.

It doesn’t take you so much effort because unfortunately you are used to this. This class of Gryffindor is terrible. In your couple of years of teaching, you’ve never fallen upon a class filled with so many disinterested, awfully rude teenagers. Naively, when you just walked out of Hogwarts yourself almost ten years ago, when you were wondering with a certain dreadful desperation, what path to head for, you had finally chosen the teaching one, believing that by the time you’ll become a teacher, you’ll be old enough and teenagers would stop being scary by then, you might even grow a little fond of them, embodiment of a something long time gone, of nostalgia.

You were wrong. At twenty-six, you still feel like a barely done with teenagehood human, hardly an adult yet. The weapons you thought you’d gather along the way didn’t appear in your robe’s pockets as you thought they would.

Instead, you only have one, effective on an immediate use, but pretty useless on the long run: a monk’s patience.

You can ignore them. When they’re being so aggravating, you consider sometimes taking a hundred points away from their house -but you don’t because you’ll have to justify to the very biased Head of Gryffindor and fucking Umbridge-, you can ignore them. It’s the most effective way to react as it doesn’t feed them much, they just get annoyed with your unresponsiveness and decide to contain their disruption between themselves. The thing is, the steam has to blow some way, somehow. It’s fine when you can wake up early and spend an hour or so meditating, to gather all of your monk's potential, or if you ever have a Draught of Peace laying around, that can help too.

These days, it’s just harder to meditate, to try and keep your mind light, unbothered and calmly content.

So much harder that by the end of the class, only fifteen minutes left, you snap and end up taking off ten points from Gryffindors.

There’s a lot of whining, of strident eruptions of indignation, however, you’re smart enough to do it the moment you’re dismissing your class and they have to leave, sulking and hating you with a passion, for their next lesson.

“What have you done?” It’s Taehyung asking. He has a little alarmed look shading his abnormally handsome face, but a tiny little tremble of the corner of his mouth gives him away.

“Ten points.” You state with a bored raised of your eyebrows. What a bunch of babies.

“You suck. They’re going to hate me too, now.”

Which is not true. Immature profiles like them would tend to hate a teacher simply by association -it is to say that Taehyung is well known to be always stuck to your shoes, you grew up together anyway- but they would never Taehyung. He’s too handsome, has a voice way too sultry, too much charisma for anyone to hate him, especially his students. They can't stand his lessons though. He’s the worst option for a History of Magic teacher. He is passionate about his studies, really really passionate. Therefore his classes, in summarise, turn into him ranting non-stop, jumping from the main point to tiny insignificant streams made of pointless anecdotes that leave his students lost and confused, holes in their parchments, hands burning from their poor attempt at trying to take notes. His classes are Hell, made of boredom and confounding. The only upside being that he’s very nice to look at. He’s like an ancient mage stuck inside an elf body.

“Do you know how many times this year I’ve had to tell them that ‘no, this potion that has nothing to do with a love potion can’t be turned into one’? Why do I have to deal with their hormones all the time, seriously?”

“You mean, on top of yours?” It freezes you on the spot You could have heard that coming, with the big old ton-heavy boots. You don’t bother looking up from your papers you are reorganising. It’s pointless because you already know what you’d see. The smart ass’s shit-eating grin, singularly square at the edges, with the mischievous squinted eyes and subjective dance of the eyebrows.

“Shut up.”

“I can’t. I know you love talking about him since you don’t talk to him.”

The shame is burning the back of your neck. It’s climbing up your cheeks, taking over your ears in the process. If there’s one person who does wonders at not-making-you-feel-like-an-adult, it’s Kim Taehyung. Because of course he saw you grow up, and of course, he’s noticed that the timid, coward of a little Ravenclaw you used to be, hasn’t changed one bit.

“You’re so mean.”

“Am not too.” He giggles as he leaps from the front table he had been sitting on to your desk, where he takes a seat, not caring about your quill holder that he knocks down. “You’re never going to try?”

“I don’t know, Tae.”

“He doesn’t look mean. A bit gruff but I guess that’s what living like a wild creature surrounded by the wildest creatures makes you look like.”

You hum non-committally. You have come to the same conclusion already. But you hate the idea that you could be right because it gives you one less reason to not dare approach him. “He must be nice.”

“He must?” You cackle a bit. He doesn’t even sound so sure of this statement. Taehyung smiles along, shrugging with a tilt of his head.

“Well, I don’t know. But you have to talk to him. Soon he’ll be portkeying back to his Transylvania-“

“Romania.”

“-you won’t see him ever again. And also, seriously, it’s been like, what, three months since he’s back?”

“Actually, it’s been barely a month.” The idiot is pretending, with a grandiloquent theatrical performance, that he doesn’t believe you, that somehow you’re trying to deceive him. And it’s ridiculous because no matter how dramatic he always aims to be, no matter how long indeed this whole pinning over the pretty guy without having the courage to act on your feelings has been lasting, it still has not been three months. It’s been three weeks and four days, not that you're counting.

He arrived on a rainy Friday morning, you remember it well because the wet weather agitated the frogs an awful lot and you ended up spending your ten minutes of break between two classes, on all fours, crawling along the hallways of Hogwarts to try and retrieve three escapees.

A real joy.

Especially when he appeared at the end of the hallway. Soaked to the bones but not seemingly caring, as opposed to Mr Filch who seemed even angrier than he usually does. You barely recognised him, from so far, looking up from the ground, with the hood of his heavy coat low above his eyes, nothing peculiar in his appearance that would give him away, not a word uttered that could have helped. Until he turned the corner of the hallway, and the emblem of this foreign school of wizardry appeared. With the purple embroidery contouring the white seagull, it just clicked. You remembered the rumours spreading wildly, excitedly around the castle, that despite the very vindicative Mrs Umbridge's opinion, dragons would be introduced this year to the course of Care for the Magical Creatures and real dragons, seen by their master, would be flying to you and inhabit the grounds of Hogwarts for this semester.

And of course, it would be him. With his impressive resume, or that unauthorised biography written about him by that one stingy journalist singing his lauds that you could read anywhere -there was even a version, presented as fiction, that’s been published in the muggle world- and also, his first and last visit to Hogwarts, two years ago, for the Triwizard Tournament when he proved his talent and bravery in front of all by forcefully regaining control over a Horntail that was just about to chew a few students’ heads off after having eluded his chains -and conveniently, it's also the same time when you fell head over heels for the stranger.

It was ridiculous because you never talked to the guy. But two years later, just his silhouette and the bouncing of his heavy head of curls you have to come to the shameful acknowledgement that your heart hasn’t gotten over the crush.

It’s ridiculous.

It precisely why you shouldn’t have talked about it to anyone. It’s just too hard to keep anything from Kim Taehyung though. Even if your life would have been so much easier if you’d only have to listen to your own nagging about this and not his.

“You’re going to end up as a crazy old spinster if you keep acting like that.”

“And you’re going to be late for your class if you keep on bothering me.”

“I don’t have a class.” Taehyung stares, dubiously. Now that you don’t have to face head-on your shame, attention slightly steered away from your useless self, you can stare back, glare even, as you challenge him with a raised eyebrow.

“You do.”

You relish in the sickly white suddenly brushing all over his face. He curses under his breath, grabbing his briefcase with one of his gigantic hands, before he’s flying out of your classroom.

Quite frankly, you’re not sure if he does have a class at the moment. You do know for a fact that he doesn’t know either because strangely enough, for a teacher whose whole subject depends on memory and a good one at that, he’s never been able to memorise his planning.

An easy escape you’ve come up with.

Everyone needs those.

Especially whoever’s having their ears talked off by the crazy old howl, Umbridge, down the corridor. You can hear her from your room, even with the door almost shut close. Her whole monologue is hard to decipher. You do hear that it has something to do with “her disapproval” and someone else's “irresponsibility” and “pure lunacy”.

By curiosity, you lean your head through the thin entrance your door is offering, picking discreetly to see who the victim is.

It's the guy. Jeon Jungkook. Standing with his feet pointing away from Umbridge, hands tucked deep in the pockets of a thick winter vest, you can’t see half of his face because of his hair, as always sitting low down his forehead, but you can tell from the thin line of his mouth, his tensed shoulders and something else, maybe his aura, so loudly screeching annoyance, that he's not having a good time.

It’s him. And for some reason, for the first time ever, you recall words Taehyung has said to you, loud and clear and pressing and inspiring. You don’t want to become a “crazy old spinster”. Therefore you decide to become a crazy something else you don’t bother to identify right this second.

“Oh, Mrs Umbridge!”

“Miss ___, as you can see, I am already-“

“Oh!” The loud gasp, hand clasping on your gaping mouth, wide eyes completing the look. You can’t find the courage to turn to him to reinforce -in case it wasn’t clear enough- that you just, now that she mentioned it, realise the man was here.

Mrs Umbridge has this quality to her. You find her so awfully ridiculous that you turn yourself in a clown, subtly mocking her -though you don’t think she fathoms it since you’ve always acted this way around her- each time you share any kind of conversation.

It can work and you can go along with your usual antics only if you forget the obnoxiously troubling presence of the dragon master.

“I am so deeply embarrassed, I didn’t realise. I’m not wearing my glasses, I’m an incorrigible mole without them.”

“Is that so?” From above the frame of her pink glasses, her beady eyes scrutinize. “You should wear them on your nose then, Miss ___. Now, if you will-“

“I’m sorry, I needed- It’s very important.” You cut her off with such speed and enthusiasm, you know she can't shut you off. “After discussing with my students about the program, I thought about something. Maybe I could introduce a new-“ “Miss ___!” She screeches, the triggering words -”introduce” and “new”- having hit perfectly right. “The program, as you owe to know, has been carefully crafted by the great Minister for Magic and doesn’t need for an airheaded little teacher like you to add any changes to it.”

“Oh yes, of course, how could I forget?”

“It is bad enough as it is that this foolish Hagrid has been able to convince my confreres of bringing a useless study on the most dangerous creatures there is-“ She pointedly glare from the corner of her eyes to the man who remains silent and immobile. His hands haven’t moved from the depth of his pockets, you can’t see his eyes even up close, because the curtain of dark curls hiding them is even thicker than it looked like from the other end of the hallway. He doesn’t seem particularly bothered. You wonder if he’s even listening. Barely swinging on his long legs, waiting for his presence to be dismissed it seems.

“Dragons are quite interesting creatures. I suppose that’s why they were added to the program. The Ministry for Magic must have thought so too since they voted...”

She gnarls at that. She tries to be discreet, conceals a bit of her spite but there’s no doubt in your mind that her mouth's just filled up with a distasteful repellent aftertaste.

Since the main goal was to distract her from him and free him from her claws, you start again with the suggestions for a revised scholar program. Her cheeks grow pinker than her jacket, her eyes start reflecting a fire alike the ones from Hell, her usually perfectly well-combed hair releases a few angry frizzes. She’s beyond herself and without letting you finish your little act, she’s going over all the things that are so wrong about you, about Hogwarts teachers in general, about young people and their disrespectful tendency to want to add their little spice to every tea.

You take the nagging like a champ. Because you’re used to it and to be perfectly fair, you’ve mastered a certain state of meditation whenever she’s coming your way with some complaining.

None of her words successfully reach you to stick around.

She holds strong for a good, fat fifteen minutes. At some point, you even worry that this time, her pit of nonsensical arguments won’t ever show a bottom. Until it does.

She looks all dishevelled from her heated argument. The hair worsened, with now drops of perspiration shining on her forehead. The mean beady eyes are dull, exhausted from the fight as she contemplates the void between you and the man. With a last dismissive wave of her hand, she leaves, stumbling on top of her lacquered Fuschia heels.

How can someone work themselves up so badly with so little provocation -and no further response too?

It leaves you alone with the dragon master and only now, even though you had plenty of time to take in this present, you realise how inconvenient for your coward self the predicament is. You are meant to talk to him now, aren’t you? Maybe the same question raises in his mind however he certainly doesn’t reach the same conclusion. Deeming it unnecessary, he turns his back to you and heads down the hall without much of a look spared to you. Maybe he did check, through or maybe under the impenetrable curtain of hair, for the identity of the idiot that thought he needed help to escape the annoying old owl but you wouldn’t know.

Watching in pure despair, your heart prickling uncomfortably in your bosom, you wonder if you somehow upset him. He did look irked from what you could tell. Anyone else, anyone less grumpy, anyone feeling anything but discomfort or discontent would have said something, wouldn’t they?

That’s what you explain to Kim Taehyung. Emphasising on the fact that you did try to approach the guy. You did. You created the situation, you faced him fully, you did miss the moment when you were probably supposed to say something to him but he left, too soon, and clearly is not interested in getting to know you, and whatever, you’re fine with that you just want your friend to note and remember for later reference that you did try this time.

Taehyung who’s never keen on trusting your words, no matter the fact that you’ve never lied to him -or maybe just a few times so he would leave you alone, but nothing major really- decides that you are wrong. That somehow you misinterpreted the whole thing and surely you need to hop back on the horse and try, again, maybe this time more vindictively.

It takes quite a couple of days for him to convince you. You’re not sure how. It might be from exhaustion, it might come from those three too many butterbeers you drank even though you didn’t remember ordering, back when you were gloomily celebrating your never-ending celibacy in Jjang Jjang -the magical bar held by your friend, Min Yoongi, in the far end of Hogsmead.

You promise that if an opportunity appears to be showing the very tip of its nose, if the universe is kind -and delusional- enough to gift you another chance, then you would try.

It’s funny how the laws of attraction work. Or rather, probably more accurately, it’s funny how Taehyung can be so shameless and volunteer when he has his mind set on something. He has no problem manipulating people and situations as if the universe is his and he decides whatever happens to the little pawns inhabiting it.

A week later, when he, the dragon master, is the curious apparition manifesting itself in front of you when you open the door to let your class free, it doesn’t fall into place right away.

It’s a strange coincidence. Maybe he messed up and meant to find another classroom, any other classroom but yours. He doesn’t budge when he sees you, doesn’t seem startled by your presence. He only takes a step to the side once he realises that a wave of hurried teenagers is about to swarm him in their way out.

“Miss, are we still going to study this potion next time or will we move to something more interesting?” It’s that same Gryffindor. The same as usual. She’s just made of attitudes, eye rolls, hand on the hip and all.

“Once you’ll be able to make it without cooking a hole in your cauldron, we’ll be starting with a new one.”

You’re snarkier than usual, there’s no denying that. It’s your fifth class of the day, everyone seems to have signed an agreement on messing with your patience and he’s here, hearing and seeing an umpteenth attempt to humiliate you from this kid and you’re not having it right now, not today. She grows red on the cheeks, eyebrows frowning dangerously low, they might fall from her face when she barks, “I told you the hole was already there!”

“I understand. Next time, I’ll lend you my old cauldron so there won’t be any issue, alright?”

The angry wands she owns for eyes shoot you a good dozen of curses and she departs, with her friends, as angry as ever.

There’s a heavy silence, setting around you both, engulfing you. The wood of the walls, dark and cold, make it old the more uncomfortable until you can not take it anymore. You’re about to mumble something, maybe point out the end of the hall and suggest he tries there, to find whatever or whoever he is looking for. He beats you to it. Having reached the very limit of handling this silence at the same time as you do.

“Good morning.” He starts, clearing his throat. A husky, quiet yet somehow soft voice that he doesn’t seem to have used quite often. “Here’s the stuff for your potions.”

He holds out a strong hand to you, all veiny and sparkled with tiny bruises, a dark bag made of linen held in his fist. If he can see you, he can undoubtedly take in your confusion. You have no idea what “the stuff” is. If it’s a badly expressed thought. If he meant to say, “some stuff” for your potions. Because you’ve never asked for anything from anyone for your potions -even though, the thought crossed your mind that he, with his magical pets, must have some fantastic ingredients for your searches. You don’t know if it just comes from him. If he thought you may need it and generously prepared this for you -you doubt that one highly. The other reason, way more evident, quite obnoxiously obvious actually, that doesn’t reach your brain which is only working at a quarter of its habitual capacity given his standing here, and his smelling like woods and smoky and something subtler, you can’t pinpoint but feel addicted to as soon as it reaches your nostrils, is that someone -Taehyung- must have put him up for it. He must have gone behind your back, mumble some basic potion ingredients knowledge he owns to him and asked him to bring it to you.

“I put my Norvegian Ridgeback's scales in a separate bag because they’re very sharp -and poisonous too- so be careful when you open it.” He’s done talking, he clears his throat again, this time you’re pretty sure it’s out of discomfort as your gaping silently like a dumb fish must not be the easiest response to receive. A little inviting shake of his fist brings you to your senses, and you reach forward to grab the present. Your arm drops down from the surprising weight of the thing, fortunately, as if he expected it, he catches you before you topple over, a hand on your shoulder and the other encasing yours holding the bag, squeezing around your own as he lifts some of the weight up.

“Sorry, I didn’t expect it to be this heavy.” because you carried it like it was filled with dragons feathers instead -you mean to add.

“It’s fine.” He simply mumbles. You add your free hand to cup the underside of the thing, pressing the whole to your bosom and he lets go there, letting you step inside your room to find a place on a shelf to put it away. You probably take a second to long, your back facing him, as you stand staring at your new possession. It’s the heat remaining on the back of your hand that troubles you. As if not only have his pets decorated the top of his skin with scratches and bruises, they’ve sighed enough fire in his palms for them to forever feel this warm. And he touched you so naturally so. Pressing his large hand around yours that seemed so tiny in comparison. Probably without even acknowledging it while you are shook to your core.

This added to your confusion born from his surprise apparition, are the reasons why, as I said, your brain doesn’t reach its full capacity. Still, the idea that Taehyung is behind it all, that it can’t solely come from this man here, just won’t do in your idiotic head.

You’re enamoured, even more than before, just by a touch and by the gentleness his words hold under the tougher surface. And you decide, that if you turn around and he’s still standing there you’ll ask him out.

You do so, spiralling in slow motion, filled with apprehension. He’s here. His hands back inside the pockets of his jacket, the shadow of a sparkle coming from his eyes, under the heavy protection he’s wearing in front of them.

“Jeon Jungkook?”

He’s startled at the call of his name, the top of his mop of hair bouncing slightly and you just find it adorable. Maybe he didn’t expect you to know his name, he must not even know yours. Of course, he could not have expected that you had spent way too long, two years ago, back when he came to Hogwarts for the first time and you had heard his name amid a conversation, trying it out for yourself. Not to wear it out but repeating his name to yourself, appreciating the way the syllabus formed, how they felt so well chosen for each other’s, for him, and the feeling, light heading, that it gave you to pronounce it.

“Would you like to have a drink with me? On Fridays, I like to go to my friend's bar in Hogsmead and I was wondering, maybe you’d like to come?”

More clearing of the throat. It’s stalling the delivery of his answer, you hate it and almost jump to your cooking station to sort out a quick remedy for it. Your heart is beating so furiously, you might pass out and he��s just taking his sweet time to answer. You feel the awkwardness. You don’t see it. You can’t see anything, the bottom of his face not telling any secrets on his feelings. You must look terrifying, red anywhere it’s possible for you to blush, sweating and fidgety like you’re on a Girding Potion bad trip. And he doesn’t show anything. You’d rip the hair out of his eyes if only you could.

There’s only one telling sign that manifests in the form of his hand, slipping out of his pocket to reach for the back of his neck where it scratches for a bit.

It’s no. It must be a “no, I’m absolutely not interested and this moment is very awkward”.

“I have my dragons to exercise. Sorry.”

“Oh. It’s ok.” It is not.

You hope, with all your might, that he doesn’t notice how upset you are. Through your prickling eyes, through the trembling pout you try to hide behind a casual smile.

It is terribly not ok but fortunately, he doesn’t stick around. That’s probably the thing you’re the most thankful for at this moment, his laconic tendencies. Anyone else may have tried to say something else to make you feel better, to make you feel like the rejection isn't worth throwing you off one of Hogwarts high tour. Instead, he just quits, swiftly. Leaving you alone to compose yourself back enough to handle your very last class of the day. You manage to feel fine, sort of numbed out for long enough until you don’t have to pretend anymore and you can let all the emotions out.

Bent over on the wooden tabletop of Yoongi’s bar, you’re crying out your whole soul, face laid in a pool of your own tears, a gentle hand petting awkwardly the top of your head.

“I hate you Taehyung!” It hardly comes out, half mumbled, half coughed out. The hand on your hair still in the air for a second so he must have got the jest of it until it resumes to its previous activity.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think he’d reject you.” He sighs deeply. “I didn’t even think you’d ask him out!”

“Yeah, what’s up with that?” You rise from the depth of your despair, hidden in the centre of your crossed arms. Yoongi looks extremely distraught. Your face looks awful, you know. But seeing him this shaken upsets you even more. You feel mad and vengeful and you’d like to flood his shitty bar with your tears to teach him a lesson -you’re not sure which, maybe: don’t look so disgusted when your friends look indeed disgusting, that’s mean- but the realisation downs on you that you cried so much you don’t have any tears left. Just the rashness around your eyes and nose, no snot left because Yoongi had maternally cleaned it for you, tiny pathetic sniffling around nothing but heartbreak now.

“He sent him to me!” You bark, punching Taehyung in the shoulder, not caring the least that half of his drink gets spilt everywhere.

“You didn’t have to just ask him out! You could have just, I don’t know (he pretends to think deeply, the tip of his fingers tapping lightly his chin), talk to him! Like a normal person that’s never spoken to him would have done.”

You gasp, eyes burning with fire. “Yoongi, he called me a freak!”

“When have I ever-“

“Normal people, my ass!” You continue, sort of having a lone conversation parallel to theirs. “What do you know about normal people, you fucking Grindylow.” You swallow down your fourth butterbeer, one furious finger indicating Yoongi that you need another one. Taehyung is just rolling his eyes, not taking offence of the nonsensical insult. “I hate you so much, Merlin, how am I supposed to face him again?”

“You do like everyone else’s does. Just start hating him until you don’t care anymore.”

“People do that?” Yoongi asks curiously. He’s slid you a new pint, filled to the brim.

“I know I do.” You slap the back of his arm there, without giving him any explanation, just because you’re sure he’s bullshitting you -the guy surely never has been rejected.

“Doesn’t matter. How could I ever hate him anyway?” A lone survivor tear falls from your lashes into the calm, quiet amber lake topping your glass. It doesn’t hit you there that there’s no foam. Yoongi watches you carefully, one of his hand is patting your forearm.

“Is he really that great?” Taehyung just shrugs. He’s such a dimwit. You nod, heart growing big with sadness before it breathes it out, turning into a tiny, squeezed on itself pained creature. You leave the conversation then. Simply trying to rest with your hurting bosom. It needs nurturing and a benevolent yet firm healing hand to tell it to rest for a bit, and stop overreacting.

[“What's he like?” Yoongi asks directly to Taehyung as he can see, clearly, that you’re not here anymore, for now.

“He’s... uh...” Taehyung starts with very flimsy conviction. “He’s into dragons.” More shrugging.]

Honestly, you might be exaggerating. You do not know much about him. Most of what you believe to know, assumed by what little you do know about him. You believe he is nice and sensible, from the way he treats his animals and the way they treat him.

[“Oh. Holy Dumbledore!”

“Stop saying that! I told you it’s fucking disrespectful.”]

You’ve seen how much respect and trust lay between them. It’s blatant. And to create this kind of relationship with some of the fiercest creatures in the magical world, he must be something else, something exceptional.

[“It’s him. It’s fucking him!”]

And you read about him, a lot, the two books he wrote solely about his creatures. They don’t directly tell much about him but indirectly, they hint his humility and humbleness. It’s not like that stupid Gilderoy Lockhart and his autobiographies on magical creatures. And there are the numerous articles that were written about him and his exploits and alleged character.

[“You’re lying.”

“I’m not!”

Sharp short nails are jabbing annoyingly in the skin of your forearm. It’s Taehyung, of course, he never stops bugging you. It’s his second passion after the soporific subject he’s decided to teach. You close your eyes, frowning a bit because he won’t stop, trying to annihilate him from your existence, to annihilate yourself from it too.]

Simple, humble, smart and strong. Passionate, sensible and a beautiful set of thick dark locks you want to slip your fingers through as the cherry on top.

“It’s apple juice!” You screech in disgust, pushing your fake butterbeer far away from you. The hocus-pocus, if it irritates you, at least brings you back to earth, and back to the noisy bar. Min Yoongi mouths something about you having drunk enough but his attention is elsewhere, along with Taehyung's.

“Oh, Merlin's beard.”

Of course, he would be there. He’s been back to Hogwarts for over a month now, you’ve never seen him around here, but of course, the day he rejects you, he has to come to your retreat, and witness the mess he's made of you. What kind of sick joke from the stars is that?

“Holy shit. Isn’t he a bit much for you?”

You know exactly what the barman means. It makes you blush slightly under the tipsy flushing already adorning your cheeks.

If Jeon Jungkook may or may not be made of all the qualities you’ve named for him -with or without reasons-, he has some very visible, very obnoxious other qualities to him. Qualities that you’re not proud of pining over because it makes you feel shallow and superficial. The expression on Yoongi's face makes it feel better though. Justified. As if, well, here they are, you can’t deny it. And since you like his imaginary personality, you might as well like the body imaginarily hosting it.

Jeon Jungkook is tall as a tree and as strong as one. It’s hard to tell, from here, with the layers of clothes he’s wearing on his back to protect himself from the cold, to what extent he fills them but it’s obvious he’s broad, wide. He walks with strong determined steps, with his fists tight to his sides, as tight as his jaw, square, sharp.

He’s big. Both in appearance and aura and you can understand how Yoongi wonders if he’s not “a bit much” for you.

“Don’t call him over!” You whisper-yell, digging your nails in the tender skin of Taehyung’s forearm. He whines, curses and tries to let himself free while telling you that of course, he’s not that dumb, he won’t. He doesn’t need to, anyway, because the guy, after seemingly exploring with his gaze the bar, sets his aim on your table, slowly starting to make his way towards you.

“He’s coming.” Taehyung mumbles, bewildered.

You are too. Could it be you misunderstood earlier when he said he couldn’t come because he’d be “exercising his dragons”? It can’t possibly be true. You don’t even know what the heck is up with this excuse. Because it can’t have been anything more than an excuse. Since when do dragons need to be exercised and by a wizard at that?

And now he is here.

Literally, he’s standing right in front of your table, a hand reaching for the back of the empty chair, next to yours, but stops mid-track and backs away to his side.

“Hi. Do you mind if I sit here ?”

You can feel, physically, the two heavy heads of your friends, turning slowly on their necks towards you, like an idiotic audience, not wanting to miss one beat of the drama playing for them.

There’s a little snappy answer that rises to the back of your throat. Something inspired by what Taehyung said earlier, about hating him. You almost tell him aloud that he can do whatever he wants, that you don’t own this fucking chair.

Jeon Jungkook is still raspy but soft voice. With his bruised hand with the fingers red from the cold, not assertive and confident enough to dare grab the chair yet and you can’t do much but nod your head, swiftly sliding your own chair to the side to draw a little distance between you.

It takes forever for the initial tension to drop a little bit. You can’t say anything, Taehyung the chatterbox can’t either, Jungkook probably feels too awkward by your behaviours to find a casual way to start the conversation. It’s Yoongi who realises the successful start. By doing what he does best, serving your new guest the best butterbeer there is in Hogsmead (Yoongi would say that it’s the best in the world, both magical and muggle, but given he hasn’t stepped two feet outside of this village for the past two decades, you wouldn’t give him that).

“My name’s Jungkook, by the way.” He starts quietly, in the direction of Yoongi. The latter nods and smiles a bit too eagerly. He tries to be natural, you can tell. And fail miserably, you must add.

“I’m Min Yoongi. Welcome to Jjang Jjang!” Taehyung cringes visibly. Yoongi leans further, towards yours and Jungkooks side of the table, wanting to ignore at best the unhelpful clown beside him. “You must already know...” With a vague hand gesture, he points Taehyung and you. It makes you want to die, the idea that he knows your name, he knows you. You’re unsure what’s going on. Why he’s here, where this will lead. But it would all feel infinitely better if you knew that somehow, he didn’t know anything about you. It’s hard to remember people without their name. It’s the first thing you learn about someone, really, like a tag they’re wearing on their foreheads and when recalling about them, ever, consciously or not, the name comes always. He knows yours so he won't forget you.

It takes all of you a short eternity to warm up to each other. The bar is still noisy, with its occasional rough burst of laughter from the tough-looking wizards, maybe missionaries, the high giggles of a group of Hogwarts 7th year students hidden in a corner. You’re all nurturing your drinks, even you with your stupid apple juice and the unease is even louder, the silence deafening in the middle of the concert of voices and shatters of glasses.

Until Taehyung says something weird, “So you like dragons, uh?” You don't understand why he persists on making it sound weird, like he's romantically interested in them.

You hit him under the table, a good kick to the kneecap but it’s clear to everyone that his yelp comes from you. That makes Jungkook laughs.

He pretty much giggles, sounding like a boy, head tilted down forward with his locks sadly hiding his smile.

“Yeah, you could say that.” He finally answers, clearing his throat, words coming out sweet and sheepish-like, as if he’s embarrassed from having been caught laughing.

“Oh, that explains this.” Yoongi says, pointing at his skin and the numerous bruises orning it. You’ve never hit Min Yoongi because 1) he’s older than you, 2) he’s a tiny little thing that you’re scared to hurt but you are this close, the width of a hair away, from throwing your foot up again and hit him in the junk. For a second, Jungkook seems awkward. Staring himself at his hands, one sliding over the other, the tip of his thumb grazing with insistence on a deep scar. Until he raises his head again, you assume to let his eyes go over your faces, studying them silently and something he sees there, maybe innocent benevolence -even if Yoongi's comment was lowkey inappropriate, he didn’t mean any ill- and something else, childish excitement probably suffice to relax him. Letting his hands be, one wrap around his pint, the other flat on the tabletop, tip of his fingers drumming quietly every now and then, out in the open for anyone who'd like to to see.

“They tend to be a bit playful.” He says this with a sly smile raising the corner of his mouth. Something ridiculously sexy that makes you choke on your fake beer and back away from him even more. You shouldn’t raise an arm to plant your elbow into the table, as a sort of shield between you two, because it’s rude and lame, but you do it anyway. Because it’s all a lot.

He's a lot.

Yoongi, probably, knows you better than you could ever imagine. Seeing right through you, added to the statement he raised earlier -and maybe he was right, maybe he's a whole lot, and a whole lot too much for you-, he reconsiders forbidding you from consuming any more alcohol. Kindly, he manifests a glass of sparkling juice, right in front of you. It's a light peach colour, from the first sniff of the aroma, you can tell it won't knock you unconscious any time soon. It's more sugar than alcohol but at least, it succeeds to soothe the harsh edges of your nerves. Because your nerves are on the verge of a fucking spontaneous combustion.

"Hey! Why does she get another one?" Since earlier, Taehyung, too, has been switched to a strictly non-alcoholic beverages diet. He's not happy about it but you understand easily Yoongi's train of thought. You need to relax so you deserve a little something -especially given the fact that Jeon Jungkook's appearance had you almost entirely sobered up-, while Taehyung's stupid mouth is way too loose and needs to be fed something soft and safe.

"Because he likes me and he hates you." You mutter, not daring to look up from your glass by fear of coming across your neighbour's attention. Your comment is well received though. You allow yourself to joke like that because everyone, Taehyung included, knows that Kim Taehyung is everyone's favourite. No matter the competition. No one can hate him, even when he's boring as hell, even when he's too loud, too nosy, dumb or annoying. He knows it as well as you do and each time you throw one of these snarky taunts, a glint of amusement sparkles his almond eyes and he loves to act all hurt and offended.

He turns all gasps and bombastic hand movements, claiming unfairness, misery. You start nagging back at him, adding more about how dumb he sounds and stupid he looks, while he counteracts with more dramatic appalled cries, as Yoongi just shrinks onto himself, shaking his head in disconcertment -even though, he's too used to your antics to be any surprised nor confused.

You're so caught up in your childish bickerings that slowly, only you two, and the amusement you're trying to contain in your stomach, matter and exist. Jeon Jungkook disappearing entirely. It has your voice turn louder, mimicking Taehyung's, your insults getting bolder, your face raises as you squint your eyes menacingly at your friend.

It's once Taehyung grabs the wand from his pocket and aims it at you, threatening to turn you into a pile of ghoul's shit if you won't shut up, that he's reminded to you.

The giggles, like earlier. Boyish and rusty, uncommon, that can only be his, ring and bless your right ear. It has you shut up instantly. Startled, you stare at him, only for a soft smile to grow on your lips, fond as you are to see him laugh like that, because of you.

You must look stupid as your eyes jump to Taehyung, silently begging him to acknowledge the wonder taking place just next to you, too giddy, too excited, too blushy to be part of it. He just grins back at you, nods his head even though you're not exactly sure at what, one of his elbows poking Yoongi's side.

"How long have you two been friends ?" He asks once he's managed to calm down his fit with a bite on his lower lip. Your heart is running a marathon and you're not sure for how long it'll keep holding up, you might need to focus all of your energy on the course, on not breaking a leg or pass out in the middle of the run, but you refuse, because he's talked to you again, because your best friends are accessorily here to help out, ease a bit of the burden of having to face the terrifying idea of being rejected (again), of failing at being good enough, somehow, to a guy you don't know much but like a lot.

Therefore you answer, aiming a joking dark glare at Taehyung because it helps to look at him, "Too long." Jungkook sniggers at the answer as Taehyung slips his ugly tongue out to you.

Somehow the tension diffuses itself. As if now that all of you had placed a word in the conversation, played somehow a role in it, it feels better, the ice has been melted and you can all, finally, relax.

Without even realising, your elbow slips from the tabletop, you're still wary, still very much aware of him sitting so close to you but you're fine with it.

As the drinks, more or less loaded, flow, Jungkook's cheeks fill up with mountains upon mountains of the fried wonders Jjang Jjang's beloved house-elf, Seokjin, has to offer, the discussion runs smoothly, tongues untied and excited.

It starts with Taehyung telling a very inaccurate version of your first meeting and blooming of this decades-old friendship (you add now and then, when the exaggerations and blatant lies get too much, little modifications to the tale that have Jungkook snigger and nod his head discreetly to you in secret confidence). It continues with Jungkook, pressured by a very adamant audience (which you are not part of, even if you are probably the most interested in the topic, in any topic that would have him speak a bit more, you don't want to bother him with your curiosity which Taehyung and Yoongi do not seem the least disturbed about) telling about the couple of last years he'd spent all around the world, in the most secluded corners of Earth, where only dangerous creatures like his beloved pets live and where only the foolhardiest or most suicidal wizards dare to adventure. As you expected, he's quite humble about it. He doesn't insist on details that make your heads spin in bewilderment, shrugging his shoulders lightly when you're the one whisper-yelling that "but you could've died?!". After a lot of cooing, from all angles of the table, tiny whispers repeating some of his words like a strange echo as you all try to handle the admiration -and intoxication-, he starts feeling himself, a tiny, discreet but visible smile, slyly redrawing the corner of his mouth. He shrugs a little less, nods his head firmly a little more, voice louder and more confident, shaping in the full form it's able to take.

He sounds lovely when he doesn't care anymore. When he feels unrestrained, comfortable and easy-going. He laughs a lot, you notice. It colours almost every single one of yours and your friends' comments, and maybe the fact that you're all a bit dumbed by shock and interest and starstruck and tipsiness makes it so that they're pretty ridiculous, hence him laughing so much. It's not so much that you're all hilarious, rather than you all being pretty stupid but it doesn't matter. You note how easy his laughter, that you couldn't even picture before hearing it for yourself, can come out. How open he is to meddle with you.

He fits so well in your bubble. This personal place only Taehyung and Yoongi have ever been authorized to inhabit. He matches perfectly. It fills your heart and mind with so much content, you feel your cheeks hurt from smiling constantly without meaning too. It's what he does, you suppose, making you smile. And when you notice the pink tint colouring his cheeks, rounded out lovingly so by a grin, you assume he's feeling the same, enjoying his time with all of you, your heart dips in the warmest bath.

"Dude!" For the umpteenth time, he's trying to wave himself some air with a hand. Taehyung has had enough and just slammed his fist to the table, making everything on it knock against each other, Yoongi's eyes this close to falling out of their sockets. Jungkook just giggles some more, he might be a bit tipsy. "Just tie your hair up, you're making me sweat just looking at your mop!"

"I don't even have-" Taehyung's already up from his chair, he bumps his leg in the process but pay it no attention, marching over his future victim with a little hair-tie that seemed to appear from thin air -probably did too. Jungkook is so lenient with your best friend, too lenient you'd say, you wouldn't even have it in you. When he excitedly reaches forward, his long fingers parting the dark locks in two, he's trying to tie one end into a little side ponytail. Before he's even done with the first one, you roll your eyes, knowing what he's aiming for. Of course, he wouldn't just give him a regular manbun or something.

For the first time, you meet one of Jungkook's eyes, the one uncovered thanks to Taehyung's shenanigan. It's round, dark but warm like rich chocolate, sparkling with exhilaration but concerned.

"What's he doing?" He asks you, unbeknownst to the fact that meeting half of his face for the first time, the endearing pretty thing, stole every single little last word from you. With two fists hold to the side of your head, you attempt to show him the cute girly hairstyle Taehyung has in mind. He winces at that, nose scrunching into itself so high, the round thing turns into something adorable, shaking his head to try to free himself from your friend's prying hands, a grin still on his lips.

"Stop being such a baby!" Taehyung growls, trying for a little while to keep ongoing, his hand desperately holding onto the second bunch of hair. He's soon forced to stop as the victim turns to be too unwilling. "Ok fine! You do it then!"

It's you he is barking to. If the hair tie thrown straight in your eye is any teller. It renders you blind for a second. Until you can blink the stingy discomfort away and you’re greeted by Jungkook and his endearing face with the oh so adorable tiny tail hanging from the side of his head, observing you with great attention, single eye blinking worrisome. He looks cute, half dolled up like a girl, fearful and curious to discover how you’ll treat him. For a second, you are tempted to follow your friend's design. Because how cute would this man look with two ponytails hanging on top of his head, with maybe even tiny hair clips to perfect it all.

He’d be pissed though and wouldn’t keep it probably so what’s the point.

The real point is that you have a hair tie in your hand, fingers itching on instinct to play with the shiny raven locks and the owner of said pretty locks, silently permitting you to do just that.

Maybe Taehyung is not as dumb and as useless as you thought him to be. Your prior reflex would be to assume he didn’t even mean to create this opportunity for you. He’s just invading as a person, touchy-feely and very comfortable with anyone entering his vicinity. You do owe him more credits and you willingly give them to him for this time. Because if he didn’t intend to put your foot on the stirrup, he surely did anyway, with a natural and a smoothness you couldn’t imagine coming from him.

Standing behind Jungkook's chair, hands hovering centimetres away, you feel so blessed, you’d jump over to Taehyung's side to snug him to your fervent heart if you didn’t have better at hand -and if the idea of actually having him this close to you did not fill you with an immense cringe.

Taehyung is watching, over the rim of his glass, with an obnoxious, kid like excited sparks burning you uncomfortably. You curse him out, soundlessly but with such great articulation, he can’t possibly miss the words.

Yoongi who watches all of it notices and understands it all as he always does even when he pretends he doesn’t, starts talking then. Something about Brazil where Jungkook had spent nine months, living alone in the wild forest of Amazonia, and about the curious plants and fruits he heard that could be found there. It’s a nice distraction. Soon Jungkook is on it again, Taehyung partakes a role in it too, leaving you alone to handle the grandiose yet terrifying fantasy that is touching and messing with Jungkook's hair.

The first ponytail comes undone easily, the hair tie simply slipping off with just the tip of your fingers to guide it.

When you timidly start, reaching with two hands to grab all of the hair from him, you feel a rush of blood to your cheeks, heart skipping beats and perspiration bubbling at your temple. Your fingers just have to graze slightly the skin of his neck, all warm and soft, you have to do it a few times even because his pretty locks are rebellious and your fingers too willing to let them run in between them, silky as they are.

There’s a strand refusing your gentle taming, slipping from your grasp and falling in front of his eye. You go to catch it back, meeting hot fingers on his temples. Yours surrender immediately. Jungkook from the corner of his eye, over his shoulder, throw you a glance and a smile. A small one, small but fond.

"Doesn't it get lonely?" Yoongi asks as Jungkook tucks the strand behind his ear.

"Not really. I'm used to it." He shrugs. You take your sweet, sweet time to finish the half-bun, half-tail hairdo you're working on. Somehow something lovely has settled. Something comfortable, domestic. He's not wary of your touch, letting you mess with his hair, not even flinching when, tentatively, just taking a chance, just once, the pad of your thumb stroke the hot skin of his neck. "Dragons can be very affectionate-" That makes Taehyung cackles as Yoongi gasps in disbelief. You have a hard time picturing those creatures as affectionate. Jungkook is different anyway. You need to be different to go after the path he's chosen for himself. "I swear!" Taehyung rolls his eyes, shaking his head.

"Have you considered all this time spent away from civilization turned you mad?"

The bun is done, sadly. You made it last for as long as you could but eventually, as every perfect moment, it has to come to an end. You don't even bother to hide your dread as you let your ass drop to your chair, puffing.

"Leave him alone, moron." A few peanuts to his stupid head and Taehyung stops messing with Jungkook, stops acting like he's insane and starts telling about something no one cares about -so much so, Yoongi leaves to go chat up an old goblin who's just entered the bar.

Jungkook turns to you, leaning a bit. Smiling quietly, gently. As if he doesn't realise the face he owns once his hair isn't hiding the majority of it anymore.

It must be a joke. He must know. He must have noticed how his straight, dark eyebrows, with the cut splitting the right one in half, gives an irresistible, dark, mature shape to the roundest, sparkliest set of eyes the world has ever seen. He must know his face is a wonderful work of art, with the tiny little details, here and there, adding charms and depth and uniqueness, that only the greatest, only a special artist would know to use -like this faint scar linking a mole under his lip to the corner of his mouth, or the one craving in the top of his cheek. His colours are splendid too. While you'd always seen him with black everything, black hair, black clothes, quiet sombre aura and a tiny bit of red, you'd catch sometimes, where he'd hurt his hands. Never would have you thought, he's more harlequin than monochromatic. Golden scopes, tipsy patches of red matching the tiny pout he owns for a mouth, eyes not dark but the richest shade of chocolate.

"You," Jungkook starts in a whisper, now so close you have a whiff of his smell, torturous scent of pinewood, of soot, and something else, more natural, sweat most definitely but turns out to be the better element of the mixture, suave, awfully addictive. "you believe me, don't you?" You need a full minute to get your brain's vessels to connect. A full minute during which you have no idea what the hell he's talking about, what words are and how to use them, and all you can focus on is not dying from a heart attack -and also, not show that you are having one.

You shake your head up and down, still unsure to what you're agreeing to. It does not matter that much because he's smiling the way he does. The adorable smile another wonderful novelty, shaped like a bunny one, eating up his upper lip into the thinnest cupid bow. The sparks in his eyes, on his cheeks, from excitement, mirth. He's really here with you, warmer than you've ever thought him able to be, and somehow, different than what you had expected, but thousand times more endearing. Having developed a crush on him previously makes more and more sense by the second.

"Thank you for the invitation." He says quietly. You don't miss a single word, nor the least flinch in his intonation (soothing, genuine), even in the loudness of the bar, because, for some reason, he's never leaned back. He remains there, hardly a dozen of centimetres away from you.

"No problem." You lie, effortlessly after a few gulps of liquid courage. If you're enchanted by the evening, the unexpected turns of events, he still made you go through a short misery for this. He must see your awkwardness, he must notice how you're sweating bullets and swallowing with difficulty. How your eyes keep battling between wanting to bath in his and avoid them at all cost. Jungkook doesn't budge though and it almost gets annoying, almost upset you how he doesn't care -or maybe simply doesn't realise- the effect he's having on you. "I thought you couldn't-" You start, meaning to sting him a bit because he deserves it.

"I finished early, and um-"

"Was it even real?" You ask, genuinely curious to have him clear this out for you. It's not like you're mad anymore. On your face, you only feel a tingle at the apple of your cheeks from how many smiles and waves of laughter you've shared, the desperate tears from earlier long dried and gone. "The excuse, I mean."

"It wasn't an excuse..." Jungkook turns his face away from you then. Biting hard on his bottom lip, a traitorous grin hardly contained. The tip of his ears are flushed, you wonder from what, until you see his hand raising to the top of his head where it flats down hair that doesn't need it. "I- I just-" Maybe it's seeing him this abashed that pushes you forward, literally, scraping your chair to the wooden floor, thigh meeting his in the process. "I was startled when you- asked. When you said my name even, I wasn't- like- expecting it and I'm not used to-" He cuts himself off, a hand vaguely motioning the room.

"To what?" You insist, mimicking his murmuring tone, terrified as you are to pop out the little bubble now only he and you dwell.

"Going out with people or just- hang out, I don't know." He looks inherently embarrassed now. Possibly even a bit saddened, you note. Still, his face remains open, kind, the ever-boyish smile teasing at least the corner of his lips. You don't mean to be so sappy but you wish, consciously, right this second, for this very moment to last an eternity or at least, for your memory to take a picture realistic enough, as in-depth and detailed as possible so that you'll be able to recall and relive it for years to come.

"Oh. Dragons don't like to go clubbing?" He bumps your thigh with his knee, chortling at your words but shaking his head nonetheless. As you stare at his thigh, covered by a cheap black cloth stretched to the very limit, stuck to yours, almost supported by yours, sending a continuous channel of heat from there to the pit of your stomach, it seems like you've reached a determining point. A definite phase where you can handle him (more or less). Enough not to liquefy on the spot at his every glance, while remaining way too aware of him, his smell, his warmth, every sound coming out of his mouth, his lovely, lovely charms.

You really like him.

"My head hurts." Taehyung's half-dead on the table. You're not too worried because as his head lies flat, his hair marinating in a pool of spilt beer, he can mumble with a lot of coherence about how heavy his head feels, and how it will probably weigh this much until Monday. Jungkook grabs a bunch of tissues to try to slip under Taehyung's head as an absorbing pillow, it's no use though, because Taehyung, strangely enough, feels too comfortable in this position to let himself be disturbed. Jungkook seems concerned, a bit bothered even -way more than you are because you are very much used to this depiction of lame- until Yoongi passes by, observing with deep disapproval written all over his face. He kicks on purpose one of Taehyung's chair legs, making him groan, and leaves.

Greediness turns you bold. Knocking Jungkook's leg the same way he did earlier, you call back his attention on you. For some reason, he stares at your legs, touching. You wonder for a second if you shouldn't have. It's not that much, he did it earlier, but maybe you shouldn't have. He's too pensive. Doesn't budge a muscle. In deep reflection. You hit him again, a tiny little push, and a few others to follow, like an annoying bratty kid trying to steal someone's attention. His hand finds its way to your knee then, enclasps it entirely, thumb pressing and you have no idea if any of this means anything, but it does send a rush of jolt straight between your legs. Surely he doesn't mean this use of firmness to turn you on, does he? How could he even guess it having this effect? You didn't even know it yourself.

It does work though. You stop acting like a feisty little brat, patiently waiting for him to be ready to listen to you. He pretends, mean as he is, that the hand won't stay, letting it slide slightly away from your knee. It doesn't go far though. Somehow it's comfortable a bit higher on your thigh. Not very high. It's awfully PG, awfully casual and platonic, but it serves to drive you a little breathless.

With the wide glassy eyes, the small smile that keeps finding its seat on his lips each time he turns to face you, he's all ears, all eyes, just for you. It's infuriating. Galvanizing. You lavish in it.

"You said it doesn't get lonely?" You blurp out, putting all efforts on focusing on the question you are sincerely curious about. If you didn't have it blinking loud and bright in your brain for the past ten minutes, you would have had it long lost and forgotten. He's messing with your head. But you owe to ask. The curious sadness, that you may have imagined for all you know, you saw briefly earlier needs to be addressed.

If it ever were there, it's gone anyway. As he stares into your eyes, seemingly pondering his next words around in his head, there's a gleam shining to you personally there.

"It doesn't when you don't know what you're missing."

"I don't feel too good, puffskein." Taehyung burps out. Thanks to some miracle, he doesn't end up vomiting all over the table but it's obvious he's this close to it and needs to be taken home. It takes all the goodness of your soul, all of it, to control your urge to grab your wand and throw a forbidden curse on his stupid ass.

The asshole makes you out to be an ungrateful friend, appreciation long gone, aggravation deeply grounded. It was going so well.

"Sorry about Taehyung." You start, wincing a bit. Your back leaned against the door of your room, it's late, quiet and badly lit up in Hogwarts' hallways. Taehyung is sound asleep in his bed, fully clothed and wrenching of a burp who turned down to be vomit. You've managed to use your wand on him, something to make sure he'll have a long and safe night and a rather gentler awakening tomorrow.

Jungkook pretty much carried him on his back, all the way to his bed, without much of a complaint, only a growl or two when Taehyung showed himself difficult in the capricious stairs hall -because it's the best and safest place to try and stumble, blindly, drunk out of your mind.

"It's fine. I had a great time."

"Dragging Tae's drunk ass all the way here was fun to you?" You tease, squinting at him. You know what he means. You know that he knows what you mean. You're only trying to earn time. Just a little bit more time. It's late, he's about to leave you for his room, you assume, and you're not just ready for it yet.

"Maybe not this part."

You don't know what to say to make him stay. It's not like you could possibly invite him inside, is it?

Yoongi would say it's way too soon. Another version of you, maybe a twenty-four-hour younger version of you, the one that didn't know him from this close yet, that didn't get to talk and undergo the full experience that is Jeon Jungkook, to feel his hand on your thigh, his pretty eyes -Merlin, there is a time when you didn't even suspect he hid those wonders right here- would agree. It's not your kind, to have hook-ups. You wouldn't even know how to.

That being said, it's not like you often meet Jeon Jungkooks.

You're not that greedy. You're sure of it. When he's leaning himself against the wall, shoulder pressed against it to support himself, head slightly tilted, watching you soundly, the corner of his lips always curled upward. His eyes say it all. Completely black in the shadow, hooded, tempting. Sending heat to your core, shudders along your spine, tingles to the tip of your fingers.

If he says something, if he suggests anything, you'll say yes. He just has to say it. You've been courageous enough already. Asking him out, talking to him, and everything else. You just can't. You can't imagine admitting out loud what you wish to happen now, exposing yourself to him again by asking him if he'd like to stay the night.

And it's too soon, isn't it?

But Hell, you still have the lucid memory of his hair, running in between your fingers and it's become undeniable how bad you'd like to have it again except this time, you could be less delicate.

"I should probably go."

The disappointment is the language you speak because you're too tired to filter the vexation in your voice, "What, your dragons need to be tucked in?"

"Uh?" He chortles. All teeth out, eyes a bit wide, he regards your face, evidently amused. "Is there anything on your mind you'd like to share, maybe?"

"Absolutely not." You're bratty. It's the tiredness and maybe the butterbeer too. Undoubtedly the frustration. Arms crossed, looking away, pouting because somehow you are unable to relax your mouth and need to be so obvious about it all.

"Are you mad at my dragons?" Jungkook asks lightly. If you don't dare look at his face right now, you can guess it. He must have that smirk you've seen a glimpse of a few times tonight. From your peripheral vision, you can tell he's mocking you. Standing away from the wall, a step closer to you, chest puffed out and arms crossed on it.

"Why would I be?" You mumble, ever so vexed.

"Exactly." He's holding back a laugh, you can hear it louder than if he were to let it out.

Continuing, same tone, same pout, squinting harder at the void that is the end of the hall, "They sound awesome, I have no reason-"

"They are. You should meet them."

Startled, you look up to him, eyes wide with both fear and interest. "Should I?"

"Yeah." His tongue swipes swiftly over his bottom lip before he bites on it for a second, pondering. "Go to bed now so that you're in good shape tomorrow and I'll introduce you then."

Of course, he'd be so casual about it but the idea kind of blows your mind. "Really?" You've seen dragons from afar a very few times, during competitions or this one time, with Taehyung at that circus in Wales. But never have you approached one. Like most wizards, at least all wizards holding the basic amount of worth necessary to their life, it's not something you want to do: approach a dragon. You know that for the Care of Magical Creatures class, Jungkook only brings one dragon at a time. The class with their professor standing on one end of a wasteland, and Jungkook, at least a hundred feet away, presents them the animal.

"Yeah," Jungkook says again, bobbing his head along. You're dazzled by the light the grin adorning his face brought. He really wants to show you his dragons. "But early. Like super early. They're tired in the morning so they won't be too... agitated."

"Is this supposed to reassure me?" He shrugs with the same cheerful beaming.

"Did you hurt yourself with Taehyung?" For the third time tonight, you've seen him reach a hand over his shoulder, messily massaging the muscle with a tiny grimace on his face. He hasn't mentioned it so you did not bring it up but the thought that maybe it's your dumbass of a best friend who's responsible awakes your guilt.

"No, it's not Taehyung." He scoffs. Almost offended that you could imply he hurt himself that way. "I had a bad fall."

"On your back? How do you fall on your back?" There are, actually, a lot of ways for someone to fall on their back but somehow, you can only imagine Quidditch players to have the occasion to do so. You haven't fallen to the ground since you were twelve and finally mastered the skill of flying on a cheap broomstick. But Jungkook is different, right?

"Tina. You'll meet her tomorrow."

Tina. One of his dragons. Of course. He sounds so excited to introduce you to a mythical creature who manifestly attacked him, you start to wonder if that's not the thing that is wrong about him. Because everything is too sweet and lovely and perfect about him, something must be wrong -or else, it's not fair. And maybe his thing is that he is batshit crazy.

"Anyway," A clearing of the throat -you almost missed those, "go to bed. Sleep tight. Tomorrow, I want you-" Your heart stops in your bosom. There's the tongue winking at you again, through his pink lips, it's indecent, makes you forget it all about his alleged insanity, "alive and kicking."

You roll your eyes, raising your eyebrows, bewildered by his choice of words. He laughs, again. The boyish one but quieter, as if he's scared to wake the castle or just a grumpy painting possibly hanging somewhere in the dark. It's lovely. "Thanks for walking me to my room. And for Tae." You say, sincerely, turning to your door to open it.

"You're very welcome." Before you disappear in your suite, you glance his way. It's sappy-you again, needing to take a mental picture of his face, with the hair still pushed back, the rebellious strand from earlier curling against his cheek, his handsome everything, his soft expression and charming smile. He doesn't seem to mind. If anything he's doing the same, not hinting to a departure until you take it upon yourself that maybe, it's enough staring at each other wordlessly for tonight and you wave him goodnight, closing the door behind you.

By Merlin's beard, what the hell happened today?

And what the fuck is going on, now?

Your ass down on the hard ground, head dizzy, with a little warm tingling sensation in the crook of your neck.

Jungkook is standing, looking like he’s a thousand feet tall with his long legs, chest puffed out and leaning upward. He’s facing Tina, the infamous Tina, about his height if you put aside the long tail laying flat to the ground in between her legs. She's a bright degraded of a deep purple and a fire red, covered in scales, sharp and standing upwards every few seconds as if they're breathing along with her lungs.

He has a forearm blocking her jaws open, glaring with the most severe set of eyes you could never have imagined on him boring holes in her flamboyant ones. He’s growling things in a language you think you recognise as Romanian, barking in her face as he forces his arm deeper, gagging her, not caring about the sharp teeth digging in his skin.

After a while of the strangest and scariest staring contest you’ve ever witnessed, the tail lying between her legs flap once and she whines a heartbreaking mewl.

His face softens at that, slightly, he frees her from his arm, taking a step back while keeping an attentive eye on her.

Tina snivels more, as soon as her master’s attention hints at leaving her, rubbing the tip of her gigantic snot against his shoulder blade.

“Not now.” He says, sending her away with a pat to the side of her neck.

This is the weirdest thing you’ve ever experienced.

You simply remain there, staring, gaping, trying to process it all.

You’ve been jumped by a dragon and Jeon Jungkook is-

“Are you okay? I’m so sorry.” He still has his hair pushed back in a messier bun than the one you made for him yesterday as if he knows that you like him a lot like that. Therefore nothing is hiding the most pitiful look you've ever seen on anyone's face when he looks down to you. Eyebrows dropping low above shiny wide pearls, his two hands reaching for you, munching nervously on his lip.

-Terrible. You just had the biggest fright of your entire life -and probably, hopefully, the last one of the kind- and all you can think about, is how wet you got from Jungkook growling like an animal, and somehow intimidating the fiercest animal there is to submission.

“She doesn’t- I didn’t think she’d be that excited, I’m sorry, ___.” He mumbles, guilt laced in every syllabus he pronounces. You accept one of his hand, sliding yours against his palm, hot and calloused, sending warm all over your body as he squeezes around your fingers. “It’s my fault. She’s used to playing rough with me and she doesn’t control her strength very well yet-“

He bends over, catching your second hand in his and lifts you, a bit too strongly given how you are entirely made of mush right now. You hit his chest in the process, he has to steady you once you’re up on your wobbly legs. He holds you with a hand to your upper arm, still hot, still firm, it has the blood to your face boil even more. What kind of experience would it be to bathe entirely in this warmth, to have not the least stupid barrier in between yours and his skin, to feel his firm hold grabbing you, his whole body covering you and pressing you down?

You need to focus on the pets.

Tina seems upset, a few meters away, her tail slapping the ground impatiently but her head held low. There are three others, different sizes and spices, quietly laying above the trees forming the forest glade. They’re watching inquisitively, quiet, as cats would, you had no idea they could behave like that but then again, they were raised by this fucking guy.

The guy still holding you close, breathing hard over your forehead, who’s most definitely searching for your eyes you are deliberately not allowing him to meet. You’re not mad. A bit shook still maybe. You’re just soaked, head filled with inappropriate thoughts you're terrified he might hear from how loud they are. And the oblivious idiot keeps apologising and asking if you’re fine because you should not be, you should probably be more traumatised, certainly not aroused as you are, especially when he’s feeling this guilty. You catch a wobble in one of his words and wonder if he could even cry from a guilty conscious.

Therefore you grant him a glance.

“I’m fine, Jungkook. Really.”

He must see something there, hear the subtle tilt your voice, too soft, has taken because he nods, visibly relaxing. His hand departs slowly, fingers grazing your skin.

“Jungkook, I have something for you.” You say it like you know where it’ll lead. Frankly, you have no idea. You can hope, wish very loud and clear in your mind, but you can’t bet on it. “For your back.” You fish out of your shoulder bag a tiny flask. With its shimmery blue content, the tag on it with his name and a short note consisting of wishes of healing you’re somehow embarrassed to show him. “I made it before coming. It should fix your back in no time.”

“That’s very kind of you, ___. Thank you.” He grabs your hand along with the bottle as if he couldn’t take it on its own, and now you’re sure he knows what he’s doing to you. He can’t be innocently stealing all of these touches from you without knowing how intensely pleasing it feels all over.

“Don’t thank me yet, you might not like the... process.” He raises an eyebrow, head slanting to the side. “It’s a bit uncomfortable for like... 30 seconds and then it gets better.”

“How uncomfortable?”

“Well... Nothing too bad. I’m sure you handled way worse.” He can see you’re not completely honest with him. For your defence, looking at all the scars scattered on the very few skin your eyes have access too, he must be used to some kind of pain. It’s not painful per se. It is uncomfortable. Like dipping a firstly warmed up skin in a cryogenic liquid for half a minute kind of uncomfortable. He senses it. Watching the strange liquid carefully, suspiciously, he’s not certain he’ll use it.

“Is it dangerous?”

You scoff, hands raising to your sides, “No, I mean- Not if you apply it correctly, it’s fine.”

“If I-“ He worries at his lip, frowning, mentally debating the subject as if it’s that much of a big deal. Honestly, the risk, is, not that tragic. An over-application can cause a curious discolouration that will, later on, turn into a marble-like blue patch -it might be definite but you’re not sure-, you can potentially burn your skin too but usually, it only happens -and it’s the case with any magical ointment really- if it’s mixed with another ingredient it shouldn’t come in contact with or on a body that’s already under certain charms -which is not his case, you assume-, and of course, an ointment made for local application should in no circumstances be ingested. It’s not that complicated. He doesn’t need to look so scared and suspicious.

“For Merlin’s sake, Jungkook! Don’t use it if-“ You aim to snap it out of his hand but he’s quicker, holding up where you can’t reach, the corner of his eyes crinkling cutely.

“No I want to but- can you do it for me? You worried me.”

“You really are a big baby, aren’t you?” He shrugs, doesn’t deny it. He looks cute like that. Dancing on his two feet, munching on his lip, hands deep in the pockets of his pants. “Fine.” You say without meaning it. You wouldn’t say that you’re fine or that you’ll be fine.

When he walks you to his cabin, twenty meters away from the dragons' playground, your heart starts beating hard and fast, more furiously at every step. It might not mean much more than a nurse job. At the same time, would it make any sense for you to not take the opportunity to take a step and make it more than that? Kim Taehyung would turn you into some kind of pile of whatever gross creature's shit if he were to hear that.

The cabin is super tiny, rustic and barely equipped. Wooden floor, wooden walls, wooden furniture -if you can call them that. Mentally, you curse at Mrs Umbridge. If she didn’t plan this on purpose just because she despises the guy and his pets. You can tell he sleeps in it because of the shitty mattress sitting on a pile of wooden boxes, with the sheets unmade. Discarded used clothes in a corner, a little tower made of books that all seem to be about travelling, magical creatures and travellers’ autobiographies. It’s dark, smells like soot with a tint of something sweet, as if the remnants of a pastry made of cinnamon is hiding somewhere.

Jungkook excuses himself for the mess, even if it’s not much compared to the poor condition he must have received the cabin as, jumping to the only window to tear open the dusty curtain.

It brings a bit of light inside, a subdued but warm yellow-ray coming straight from the barely awakening Sun.

It feels a bit stuffy in here. With him taking over the whole space, and your lungs struggling to pump normally. It feels too intimate, to be standing a few steps away from the place he sleeps in at night. Too intimate because you're not used to it, and two days ago, or even fucking yesterday morning, you would have never thought you'd ever be standing here.

"It's cosy."

You comment, humming to yourself, at the same time as he asks, "Should I take off my shirt?"

You almost choke, tilting your head, watching him with misplaced shock. He's already holding the hem of his black shirt higher on his stomach, exposing smooth golden skin, tight on a thin, sculpted waist, a trail of teasing black hair under his belly button, yet looking at you with his wide round eyes, unsure, quite innocent somehow.

"I don't think you need to- the whole thing." Coward-you hurries to answer, trying to divert your attention to anything but him.

Jungkook turns around, giving you his back and raising his hands to the back neck of his shirt, wincing silently, as he lifts the cloth. The back is almost worst than the front. The thin waist you had a glimpse of, the smooth skin with the golden highlights, the cute dimples at the bottom of his back, the developed, beautifully drawn muscles. A dizzying hot flush takes over your head.

This guy is a mystery. Under his thick, oversized clothes, you knew he was well built, but never would you have expected that. It's not like you care about it usually but with him standing in front of you, smelling so wonderful, with this thing, intense and unique, linking and running in between you two, you can't ignore it all. You can't ignore nor deny how attracted you are and giddy and greedy at the idea of seeing it, of touching it all -when most people don't even get close enough to him to suppose what he's hiding.

It's easy to get back to Earth and the present moment with the large, blue hematoma marking his right scapula. It looks painful as hell, so much so you wonder how he's been handling it so far, how he hasn't visited the infirmary yet, how often it happens and if he always simply tighten his jaws and take the pain until it just leaves.

He turns you cheesy again. You'd like to lean forward and press a kiss to make it better. You wouldn't dare though, and you know, for a fact, that the ointment you prepared for him would be an infinite amount of times more effective to heal him.

He shudders at some point. Probably because you're taking a short eternity to do anything, or just say anything, silently contemplating instead.

Gulping hard, you start, "Bear with me, ok? It'll be better in no time." He grumbles something to himself, way too quiet for you to hear over the loud popping of your potion's bottle and the even louder rummaging of your heart in your bosom.

The first drops seem to be fine. He's not squirming under the gentle touch of your fingertips, handling the strange sensation that the potion causes at first, instantly warming up at the contact with skin. He even relaxes, letting you spread evenly all over the bruise, calm and still as the perfect patient. Until he squeals.

"Fuck, what- ah!"

On reflex, he tries to bend and twist, attempting desperately to avoid the inhumanly freezing discomfort burning his skin. You try to hold him still, hands clasped to his shoulders but he wouldn't stop wriggling, whining like a hurt puppy.

For a tough guy, he can't handle much, you decide. It's amusing but concerning as you see him move around so much, you can imagine how he's stimulating the pain coming directly from his injury rather than the ointment.

"Jungkook, stop!" He manages to knock the pile of his books down with a blind kick. "It'll last just a few seconds, calm down!" Your hands fully pressed against his bruise, the heat coming from your overly agitated heart helping, it releases some of the cold. Somehow your tiny hands on his broad back are enough and he sighs in contentment, just a tiny whimper uttered as a remnant of his short but intense torment.

"Are you ok?" You ask after a few minutes. His breathing has quieted down too. His shoulders hanging low, his head relaxed, ease and comfort have taken over his body and mind.

"Yeah. But-" Tentatively, he tests out his right shoulder, rolling it up and down a few times, a tiny impressed 'wow' escapes him and you grin to yourself, enchanted to see him acknowledge your talent. "When you said discomfort-"

"Sorry about that. I thought you wouldn't want to try but it's worth it, isn't it?"

"It is." He has a sudden burst of laughter when he turns around, flashing you a relieved smile. You can read in his eyes that he's a bit surprised, a bit confused himself about what's so funny, probably settling on the little fright the experience gave him. You won't mention that the potion, if it's so effective and this, so quickly, is because it has very highly active ingredients that mess with the organism as soon as it penetrates the skin and his insides might be a tiny bit all over the place for a few moments.

Suddenly, a big whooshing sound comes from outside, seemingly knocking against the front wall of the cabin and making it shake on its hinges. It just makes him chuckle some more, not worried the least and beyond amused by your reflex to step towards him, hands raised, this close to grabbing a hold of his shirt.

"It's just Tina getting impatient, don't worry."

"Don't worry?" You scoff. The mention of her name brings back the memory from earlier. For some reasons, Jungkook's presence now and inside that memory, make it all seem rather mundane but you're sure, you're positive that you should feel traumatized by what happened. A dragon fucking attacked you. Jungkook shoots you a crooked smile you can't say you recognise. With a little bite on the corner of his bottom lip, dark eyes squinted yet shinning mischief.

"You're safe with me." He says, voice low, teasing, as one of his hand reaches for his index and thumb to pinch lightly at your waist.

"Because they're scared of you somehow?" He laughs again, hand now encompassing your side, staring down at you. He looks so inhumanly attractive. You're confused where this intensity comes from. If it's simple lust, coming from a genuine natural place, the same as yours. Or if the potion is not still messing with him, and his hormones, possibly. It shouldn't. It's been a good ten minutes and his build wouldn't entail this long of a repercussion.

"They're not scared. They just know who's the alpha." He explains with the cockiest shit-eating grin you've ever seen. Even greasy Gilderoy Lockhart doesn't have those. You'd find him gross if he was a hundred per cent committing to the act. There's a lurch though, in the way chocolate marbles shine in childish amusement, the tendentious beam turning into a boyish one, biting back something you know would sound like a giggle if he let it escape. You chuckle yourself, hitting him on the chest -because now that he's healed, he can take it. He doesn't budge an inch, doesn't back the slightest away from you. If anything, the hand holding you slide a bit further behind your back, keeping you close. "I'm just kidding." He whispers, voice as soothing as his attentive gaze as turned. So attentive you feel your face burn with shame. As a poor attempt to deflect your focus on this, your hand raises to his chest again, fingers scrapping at a tiny default in his shirt.

"You're not." He snickers. "I still don't understand how you're not scared of them..." The question somehow was never brought up. The whole night, the day before, your friends and you spend your time praising him and asking so many questions about his life and dragons in general, the things he's seen, the things he's done, the reasons that push him to take this orientation -something about adventure and wanting to see where the world ends was the answer however you could tell it wasn't entirely the real one- but you never actually asked how come he's not terrified of these deadly creatures.

"Honestly, your students are way scarier to me than they are." Your eyes grow big with surprise as you simper. You naturally lean a bit back as you laugh, and he follows you, for some reasons, eyes fixed on you, a tiny smile shaping his mouth. "That one girl the other day, the way she looked at you."

"Yeah, they can be real brats sometimes."

"My dragons, on the other hand, are super playful and soft." He sounds like a little boy, trying to brag about his alleged better pet. Of course, he'd be lethally sexy a second and undeniably adorable the next.

"You're a bit weird, Jeon." Jungkook shrugs, not sure what to say to that because he knows you're right. He can also hear in your voice that you don't mind and he's not sure how to say that he's glad you don't. Because he doesn't say anything you force yourself to look up, study his handsome face to read him. His expression is precisely what you expect yours to look like. Content yet expecting for something more, enamoured.

It's just hard to take the first step. Impossible to overcome.

Only now, from so close he can probably feel your breath hitting his neck, you notice he has a thin beard decorating his jaw. There's a patch missing on the left. You press the tip of your index to the tender skin, noting he's probably got burnt.

"That's what happens when a baby with a cold refuses to leave your shoulder." "It sneezed on you?" He nods, grinning. "I could make something for that. And for your eyebrow too." You stare, your finger caressing the soft skin, cheating a bit and slipping to the side of his jaw where there's nothing except a barely unshaven skin. Jungkook sucks in a breath.

"Would you?"

"If you want me too. You'd be losing charm points for sure but-"

"Oh, I have those?"

For some reasons, it’s this moment your memory chooses to recycle your friend’s words. The ones about him being that great. With the pretty gold glimmer coming from his peculiar round eyes, you do not doubt that he is. “As if.” You roll your eyes, jaded by his certain lie.

And the ones about him possibly being a lot, being too much to handle follow quickly behind. He is a whole lot, from head to toes, to the very essence of his character. The thing is he’s dipped in a thick pool of sweet honey, rounding his edges into something so much more accessible, too easy to swallow, how could you not try. “Let’s not fix it then,” He starts, one of his hand roughly rubbing at his short beard. “you already have too many ahead of me.” You give him a doubtful “oh really?” look he greets with an amused grin. He’s pretty smooth for a guy that hardly ever interacts with women and humans in general. You almost ask if his pets give him dating advice but you decide to keep it for later. The cat and mouse game is getting hard to endure. You’re not bored of it but you know you’re both ready for it to turn a little less playful and a little more decisive -also you don’t know exactly what time it is, however, you do know you have a class in the morning. It (whatever it is) won’t happen with you bullying him restlessly. Maybe one of you will get tired of watching so closely the other's face, you both know the details by heart by now, are probably even able to draw them with your eyes closed, and act. There’s a subtle frown messing up his handsome face. A tiny dip of the starting lines of his eyebrows and a pout reshaping his lips. “I’m really sorry about that.” He mutters, shame dripping from his words. The pad of his thumb raises to your neck, grazing ever so lightly the skin surrounding the tiny cut Tina gave you earlier. It’s not that bad. Doesn’t even hurt anymore. When your heart is beating so fast, when your cheeks are burning so high, when your core is quivering so much, you barely remember about the cut on your neck ever hurting. He seems so sorry though. And then he’s leaning towards you, dubious eyes not leaving yours until he’s hidden in the crook of your neck and can’t see you anymore, and softly, presses his lips to the bruise. It feels like a seizure in your heart. It shouldn’t be much but it is, the softest touch, most delicate, also a beautiful promise for more to come.

You relax under him, his arm naturally sliding further behind you, pulling you flush against him. You tend your neck, expecting more, demanding more. He instead breathes in, nose buried in your hair, humming to himself as if the scent pleases him before he’s kissing your neck again, this time a more resolute kiss, with a tough pressure, a louder smack.

You can’t help but giggle, he sniffed you like an animal would, like a dragon would. The giggle turns into an embarrassing fit of laughter, the tension wearing you out probably helping a lot.

“What’s so funny?” Jungkook asks, cheeks flushed, eyes bright with curiosity and a smile translating his bemusement. He backs away for a second, just to see your face.

“Sorry-“ More giggles, he pinches your side, you barely manage to bite your laughter back in your throat. “Sorry but you’re really- I just didn’t realise to what extent you’ve been raised by dragons.”

He’s confused you can tell, frowning in deep thought yet not looking the least vexed. It makes you smile. Seeing him looking so adorable, a little lost, a little embarrassed. You kiss the palm of his hand, the one that’s sitting where it fits perfectly, tucked in the crook of your neck, his eyes grow big for a split second. “Cause I smelled you? Was it weird? I’m sorry, I’m just used to- like- smells are imp-“

He made it so easy for you to press your lips to his. Everything about him, from his smell to his warmth, to his smiles both from his pretty flushed lips and from the wonders he owns for eyes, his voice soothing, welcoming, words always gentle, always soft. He’s both the unknown and at the same time, the most comfortable aura you’ve ever wanted to dip in.

It’s hesitant at first, or more precisely sheepish, like testing the waters. Figuring out where you’re stepping in, noticing you’re barely keeping your nose up and afloat. It’s scary, new and exciting. Requires a little bit of practice, some intended nibbles, some timid lingering.

You’re both unsure, trying until you’re not anymore. Like a button blooming into a rose, suddenly turned bright bloody red, intense and passionate, with fierce thorns digging and scratching at the skin.

You sigh into him, he’s humming as in agreement. There’s a little agitation coming from outside. As if they know what you two are doing, how you’re feeling. As if impatient Tina can tell you’re stealing her human right under her snoot.

He is so willing to get stolen though. Chasing after your mouth when you worry for a second about the ruckus going on just behind the wall, arm tightening around you, hugging you as close as he can, his body melting with yours whenever your fingers dig in his skin.

You’re the first one to slip your fingers underclothes to just have a little sample of naked skin. It’s just past the hem of his sweatshirt, the soft and burning skin of his waist. It spurs him on. As if he was just waiting for you to give him permission, his hands find a home under your shirt. Flat on your skin, so large, so hearty, raw skin from someone who’s worked with those hands a lot, feeling so nice on you, feel like he’s holding you captive in between the palms.

The hand against your back slides up, stopping an instant where your bra is sealed, toying with it as if he’s wondering if he can. Deeming that he can’t, for some unknown reason, he goes further to grip the back of your neck. You’re too busy with his tongue teasing yours, with the growing stiffness digging in your stomach to notice. Have your brain been less occupied, you would probably have the fingers playing with the ends of his hair, pulling a little harsher than they already are. He’s loving it, it seems. Moaning each time you do, groaning each time your nails slip through the hair to scrap at his skin.

Everything is too good. Everything feels made to be, bodies made to meet and make up. It feels like this could be enough. Highly satisfying, more delicious than any make-out session has ever felt because none of those boys before were Jeon Jungkook and never have you liked someone as much as you like him.

But Jeon Jungkook can’t be perfect. You don’t know if he means to be to tease or if it’s just him holding onto some doubts, some insecurities, not wanting to go too far without you explicitly telling him that it’s what you want -because, clearly, it’s not evident enough, the way you’re hanging off of his mouth, limp in his arms, subjectively grinding against his cock can’t be telling enough.

His second hand, the one closest to all the places you want him to invade, won’t give in. Set on your stomach, his thumb retracing the underline of your bra, this hand is the very incarnation of a tormentor. You don’t last long, grousing in your mind, losing your shit and your patience, giving him chances after chances to finally get to it but of course he never does.

Your frustration reaches its limits when you back away from him, hitting his chest with your fist, breathless and frowning.

He’s too dazed, hooded eyes barely seeing anything but your swollen mouth, to comprehend. Until you bark his name, punching him again.

Jungkook takes in your mad eyes, scrunched eyebrows and impatient tapping of your foot on the cabin's floor.

“Touch me.” You whine more than you demand. His light chuckles fill the suffocating air, diffusing a little bit of the tension and maybe it’s not for the worst.

“Is that all?” He asks, leaning in to place a soft kiss on your pouty mouth. “You scared me.”

“I don’t care.” He is so gentle on your lips. The sweetest touch you’ve ever received there. Your heart is growing exponentially, threatens to burst in your chest and you’re loving every single second of it.

“You’re a bit mean when you’re frustrated, you know that?” He can hardly contain his amused grin long enough to kiss you. Explicitly telling you, he doesn’t care much for your moody outbursts. “And,” Another kiss right in the centre of your awaiting lips. “I was touching you.”

“Not enough.”

“What’s enough, lil’ brat?” He mumbles against the skin of your neck, biting a little at it, definitely grinning to himself there. You almost cum there.

“Touch me here.”

You can sense his cockiness drops to the ground when you grab his hands and press them to your clothed breasts. He just gapes, too shocked to act, as if it’s the first pair he’s coming in contact with. You have to do everything on his behalf and really, thankfully for him, you like him that much you don’t hold it against him. Tearing the cups of your bra down and under your breasts, guiding his long fingers to your tender mounds, he takes in a shaky breath, his curious eyes borne into yours.

Tentatively, he wraps his hands around them, weighing them, the pad of his thumb caressing the skin, enjoying taking extra time on the nipple. You can tell he wants it, he’s too willing to touch you, yet his mouth, the stupid thing, starts to stutter, “B-but, I don’t think righ-“

“Please.” And if this isn’t enough, you’re giving up. You’ve tried so hard. Asking, moving his hands for him, pleading with your boobs out and your shirt bunched up over them. If this isn’t enough, you’re giving up and probably kicking him in the dick in your way out.

His puppy eyes fall from your eyes down to your breast, almost reluctantly. He leaves out a tiny whimper of pain. As if he’s the one hurting. As if it’s not you, the one suffering, the one tortured, because he’s been messing with you, shaking your insides upside down, baiting and lightening up sparkles but refusing to feed you accordingly the way you need to. As if he’s not the only one inflicting himself the torment, refusing to give in for reasons you don’t understand.

Until something clicks in his brain, finally, common sense meeting desires, his mouth fall from your neck and straight to your nipple, kissing hungrily. Licking and sucking and nibbling, moaning almost as much as you do. Once both your nipples are swollen and a pretty flush, he senses your sensitivity, deciding to drop from the buds, meaning to cover the whole supple surface of your tits with lovely kisses and infuriating grazing of the teeth.

The position is awkward. Him bent in half, you on your tiptoes, trying to ease the access for him while simultaneously ordering your wobbly legs to keep on supporting you. The task is not easy, so poorly executed he gets tired of it in seconds, big hands seizing you to pick you up, holding you close, your legs wrap around his waist, so comfortable, so natural, somehow more convenient for him, he doesn’t seem to be in the least amount of effort as he feasts gladly on your chest. His hands stay on your ass, fingers digging, occasionally dragging you up and down his front where you can feel him hot and hard against your centre, a few times squeezing and tearing your cheeks apart. If this is not what paradise tastes like, then you don’t know what is.

It’s perfect pleasure, pure satisfaction.

But of course, you’re human.

Soon, it’s not enough, anymore. And more and more you want and you need. You can feel your cunt clench around nothing, drops of honey dripping from the side hems of your panties crotch. He’s so good to you, lavishing and ravishing your breast like it’s the only job he’s ever wanted but you want more. Maybe you’ll let him worship you another day. Place the kisses and paint the marks he wants on every inch of your body.

Right now you need release. Any kind. He’s pent you up to a point, you can’t handle the idea of not letting any steam out.

You’re about to get bitchy again. Getting saltier and saltier at every empty-handed clench of your cunt. If you don’t take a step now, make him take the step, you’ll turn into a sex-deprived gremlin again, this time worse than earlier, and it’s not a good look you wish for him to see -again.

“Jungkook?” You can sense him perk up at the call of your name, even though he doesn’t stop his ministrations. He hums against your nipple, held tight in between his wet lips. “Fuck, Guk- just- uh- your bed.” No reaction. You suspect he didn’t even listen. “Take me to your bed, Jungkook!” It’s the harsh pull on his hair that’s made him look up and pay attention to your words. Like an obedient puppy with unmatching dark eyes, he nods, swirling around to head for his bed, carrying you effortlessly like you're not a full-grown adult hanging from his neck.

You’re about to meet his sheets. You’re about to get ravished and treated so, so right. You can tell from all the promises his hooded gaze has no shame sharing. Anticipation is killing you. The tenderness and affection along with the evident intense lust you read in him are killing you. Your back is just about to meet his sheets when it just doesn’t. He’s holding you centimètres away from it, eyebrows frowned, preoccupation taking over his face and covering everything sexy that fitted it so prettily.

“I can’t have you on this bed.”

“Wha- why?!” Maybe you yelled a bit. He winces. You don’t know what you look like right now, lust turned into pure fury, you just hope if you feel and talk like a gremlin, you still don’t look like one.

“Have you seen it? It’s not even a bed, it’s just a pile of dirty rags probably a thousand years old-“ It’s sweet and annoying, infuriating beyond belief. He’s blushing too. One foot hitting with spite the pile of rags he was given to use as a bed.

You want to cry.

“Why are you so fucking difficult, Jungkook?” You spit his name with venom, forehead hitting his shoulder, defeated as you feel. He’s hugging you closer, hands less sexual and just warm tenderness as they slide along your spine, pressing you closer if it’s even possible. Feels nice. But your panties, the soaked ruined cloth that is uncomfortably sticking to your cunt are reminding you you’re hating this moment.

“I don’t mean to. I- you deserve better than-“

“But you sleep on it!”

“I can sleep anywhere, it doesn’t matter but you’re too pretty to be laying on this.” You huff at that. Too frustrated to just take the compliment and let it shake your belly with the butterflies in it like a kid would a Christmas snow globe. “I’m sorry.”

“Should apologise to yourself, why you’re sleeping in it if it’s shit? Don’t you deserve better?”

He can tell how you feel. You’re kind enough to let everything clear as day, written in a language he mastered in so little time, an intimate one he’s only allowed to see. He sees the disappointment. Also the ease you’re feeling. The lust that’s not left. The despair and frustration tinted by dark shades of anger. You look cute as hell. All pouty and mushy in his arms. Whining and complaining and so angry yet fingers gently caressing the nape of his neck. He can tell you’re bitchy, feel like arguing but probably want something else even more.

“Wouldn’t it be better to use your bed instead? I saw it yesterday, looks nice.” He suggests, kissing your jaw to relax you.

“It is, it’s a troll size.” You lean your head back, giving more space for his mouth, mumbled words hardly falling from your pout.

“I saw that.” He says, amusement teasing the corner of his eyes.

“Professor Jeon!” The amusement completely annihilates from his eyes, his pretty rosy lips falling in a shocked o, along with all colours leaving his face. You gasp silently, wide eyes matching his.

There’s a terrifying succession of thuds shaking the little cabin, the call of his name again. Slowly, he releases you from his arms, making sure you meet the ground without emitting the least noise.

“I told you I had a class-“ he mimes with his mouth rather than speak.

“You never told me that?”

“I mean- I tried to but you wouldn’t- you wouldn’t list-“

“Professor Jeon?” More knocking on the door. You both hear the man outside mumbling to himself, a little commotion and you can tell, he’s trying to find a way to reach the window to have a look through it. Jungkook jumps on it, tearing the curtain in front of the blurry glass.

“Yes- uhm-“

“Are you okay? The class is ready for today’s demonstration! We’re all excited about that Opaleye you’ve talked ab-“

“Hagrid, I- I need to- finish get ready so- if you and the class could wait- f-five seconds?”

You are fuming. Glaring at him with the meanest eyes you own. Smoke probably coming out of every orifice, desperately trying to leave out some steam or else you’ll be spitting fire better than his fucking pets do. Tucking your boobs back in your bra, tearing your teeshirt back down, probably looking as miserable as you feel.

He’s apologetic though. One hand holding yours between gentle fingers, massaging kindly the palm of your hand. Looking guilty as hell, pouty with the watery eyes, a sweetheart.

And you like him. The realisation hits you once again, full force, you like him a whole lot. Frustration fading into compliance, leaving you helpless, about to forgive him wholeheartedly and suggest to come back later when his schedule sees it more fitting.

“Alrighty! I’ll show them that cute baby dragon I see over there-“

Jungkook winces visibly. Even you can tell it’s not a good idea to leave Hagrid alone with kids and dragons unsupervised, his reputation precedes him, unfortunately. He doesn’t hint a gesture towards the door though. Observing you with attentive eyes, the same from earlier, as if he’s trying to memorise your traits with utter accuracy, knowing he won’t be seeing it for at least the whole day ahead. You should suggest he takes a picture, it’ll last longer. But you’re overwhelmed with a vague wave of sadness, suddenly, so close to the parting from him and so unready for it.

You don’t know if he sees it, senses it, if when he kisses you hard on the mouth it’s to make himself feel better or if it’s just for you. It works in any case. Your heart filled up as it’d been, with lust and affection and something that can’t be but is so akin to love.

“I wish you didn’t have a class-“

“Do you want me?” He asks in a breathless whisper. The question is ridiculous, the answer being so fucking evident, you’d hit him to the side of the head if you didn’t like so much how intimate, how sexy he sounds murmuring against your lips.

You nod. Realising as you try and fail that he’s stolen all air from you -and probably a few other things like your heart and sanity along the way.

“Can you be quiet?” His hands have already dropped from your face, attached to the hem of your pants, hurried fingers proceeding to open them up. The situation in its entirety with the environment, with the people outside at most a dozens of meters away, the awkwardness, the everything can’t hit you, can’t take a sensible shape. No information able to be treated because of him, his everything, the whole lot that he is, infuriating, dizzying, shattering, moving. All you know is that you can be quiet, you can be whatever he wants you to be right this instant.

“I’m sorry for being so terrible at all that-“ He starts, sincere but light, amused, comfortable with you -and that’s the nicest look you’ve seen on him. “I’ll make it up to you until later when I- can really make it up to you.”

It’s funny to see the two facades of his personality clash like that. He’s apologising, red in the cheeks, but also a mouth, reshaped by a confident fatal crooked smirk, stating promises as facts.

How does he know he’ll make it up to you? How does he know he’ll make you feel good enough you’ll forgive his clumsiness?

“I’ll need more than five seconds, Jeon.” That makes him chuckle silently, shaking his head and squinting in defiance.

“You’ll need hardly more than that.” He says, dragging your pants and your panties at once, down a few centimetres.

Heat burns your face as air hits your centre. It feels shockingly exposing even if he can't see much from up there, with your shirt down, with little to no light coming from the curtained window and his large hand, that doesn’t wait for a second, slipping in between your thighs, covering your mound instantly as his mouth covers yours.

He’s right. This fucker.

You don’t time but you know he makes you come incredibly fast.

First starting by sliding a lone finger in your heat to quickly realise that you are soaking wet, sloppy to be exact, perfectly able to fit at least two and probably a third one easily. And he obliges so, filling the torturous void, fucking you with them slowly, dragging the pad of his rough fingers along your walls, teasing your sensitive entrance with lovely, lovely strokes. The sound -and he has to slow down to keep it quiet enough- is obscene. You don’t remember the last time you’ve been so fucking turned on. Dripping down your legs and unto his hand.

He spends only a few minutes on that, on fucking you nice and open when you both know he won’t even be able to fill you as you both wish he would until, well, some undefined time. It should be revolting, that thought, sort of a quick, immediate satisfaction for a long term painful wait.

But then his fingers leave your hole to migrate to your clit, as engorged as ever, as it’s not been for a long, long time, all of this for this stupid crush, from this stupid man, from his kisses and his scent, and his purposefully neglecting to give it attention. A few strokes only, fast and hard, messy and desperate with a sweet pet name he’s never used but fits so nice from his lips press to your ear and you’re coming, hole kissing emptiness, it sucks but you're invaded with so much content, legs shaking, heart beating fast, remnants of the orgasm reshaping the whole stance of your body, feels like you've just moved in an entirely new one, and head dizzy, feeling in love.

“Told you.” He’s chuckling to himself. Full of himself as he wipes you clean with a teeshirt he just picked up from an open travelling bag.

“Shut up, Jungkook.” You groan. One hand holding onto his bicep while his owns diligently tie back your pants, fixing you like nothing happened. The orgasm has been so good, it devoided you of all strength and energy you may have had.

You need to leave. Or more precisely, he needs to leave and meet the class, take them away probably in the forest so that you can escape and flee back to the castle. It’s inevitable.

You close your eyes for a second. Trying to empty your head, focus on breathing properly again, hiding how upset you feel. It’s not that dramatic. Surely, you’ll catch him again, today probably, later, tonight, but you feel so upset. Like a little girl. You don’t want to leave him yet.

Jungkook calls your name softly. You open your eyes, biting on your lip to contain all the emotions wanting to spill out right under his nose.

“Do you like me?” This time you have to throw a punch to his side -it hurts your knuckles more than it does him- because how dare he ask and look so unsure of the answer. “Well, I don’t know- I don’t- you never know with women and- and like- I- you never said-“

“I’ve liked you for two years, Jeon Jungkook.”

“Two...?”

You see the gears rolling, slowly, unsettled by big knots of confusion. You’re sweet, you’re generous and you just came in his hand, literally, so you have no issue admitting -with only a slight blush on the apple of your cheeks, “When you first came for the Triwizard Tournament.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t-“ Again with the apologies. With the looking so pitiful, with the guilt, with the him being so lovely of a man, especially when he’s so big and covered in all those warlike scars.

“Well you had this in your eyes anyway, would have been hard to notice me.” You joke, stealing one of the locks hiding behind his ear and tickling his eyelids with it. He scoffs, smiling before he slips it back where it was.

“Thanks to Taehyung, I have a hair tie now. So that I can see you better.” He’s beaming, staring at you fondly, it’s insufferable and you look away, embarrassed as ever because those big eyes being just yours, admiring you -for what too?- are hard to handle. You need practice.

“Is it your dragons teaching you all this cheesy garbage-“ He cackles at that, not even letting you finish and you’re loving the idea that it’s you causing that. “You need better wingpets.” He laughs even harder, you’re grinning even harder until a screech, ear-splitting, resonates through the whole surrounding forest. For a second you wonder if it’s not just Tina throwing a fit because she heard how her master is having so much fun with someone else than her but there’s a commotion following and what sounds like a seventeen-year-old Slytherin boy losing his shit, yelling and crying, and alarm takes over Jungkook's face.

“Can I see you tonight?” He asks in a hurry and you nod. “I’ll meet you in your room after I trained-“ A big smooch to your lips. “Actually maybe before, I don’t know, I-“

“Just go, Jungkook.” His eyes say something his mouth can’t, you can read the trepidation, as he sprints to the door, gaze not leaving you.

You can’t be sure a hundred per cent but you’re almost certain he just told you that he really likes you too and suddenly, you don’t feel as upset as you did, knowing you will find him back later.

« Thanks for earlier. »

For a second, you don’t know what he’s referring to. Until he points a finger towards his crotch, a little flush showing on his cheeks, where his hair doesn’t reach.

That makes you laugh. You shrug your shoulders, waving his thank away because of course, you wouldn’t let him run in the middle of a class full of teenagers with a rock hard cock showing through his pants.

Too focused on the possible catastrophe happening in his front yard, he didn’t seem to realise, if any discomfort or pain ever existed he couldn’t acknowledge it but you surely did.

After having it pressed to your crotch, having felt its hardness and its heat, there’s no way you’d be able to just stop thinking about it. Then in the cabin, with your tingling cunt and sticky panties, and the whole day ahead, no matter how far away from him you were, physically and supposedly mentally, it’s just all you could think about.

Blushing incessantly at the least stimulating moments. Gagging back giggles whenever a word, a touch, a smile of his recalled itself to you, and this in front of confused and suspicious eyes.

The whole day was a pain. It simply wouldn’t roll fast enough.

Now here you are, standing in front of him, not recognising him fully. He’s hiding behind his hair again. He’s quiet and awkward like he too forgot how to talk to you.

Maybe that’s what you get for meddling with him so quickly. Suppose you get separated for a short dozen of hours, he becomes a stranger again.

It’s an awful feeling. Seems like maybe you made it all up. The comfort, the noncommittal love and adoration, the ease, the lust, the warmth. Maybe all of it was just a hazy dream. Made up yesterday evening by alcohol and this early morning by fatigue.

Here you are sober and empty of any other commitment and you can’t picture how you could have gotten to that special place and how to find it back if it ever existed.

“You’ve let your hair down.” You simply say. Maybe it’s your way to point out aloud how you feel like you’ve been thrown a thousand steps back. He’s hiding behind his hair, being unreachable again.

“Yeah, I just- they were all staring so I felt awkward-“ You mean to interrupt, let him know because you’re sure that he doesn’t (the boy from the bar yesterday didn’t know) that if they were staring it’s because he is that beautiful and certainly no one has expected that. “I wanted to tie it back for now but I lost the little thingy.” You take a step forward, closing some of the distance between him standing against the wall and you in the middle of your room. The more you hear his soft voice, the more you recognise him. “I hope Taehyung won’t be mad, I can buy a new one for him.” You could probably point out that Jungkook probably did not lose anything. That probably Taehyung used a charm and like any of those, the object you didn’t pay for, that materialised itself from thin air, simply disappeared after some time. Maybe you’ll tell him later. Right now you’re close to him again, so close you can catch a glimpse of an eye under the pretty locks. Your ears recognise him, your nose too, and you’re impatient to see if your fingers would too.

You reach up, catching his fringe in between your fingertips and dragging them behind his ears, opening the silky curtain and smiling to yourself, eyes almost blurry with emotion, when you see his handsome face now on display. With the pretty brown eyes, the rosy lips, the cut eyebrow and that scar on his cheek, just above his timid dimple that shows up only when it wants.

“Hi.”

“Hello.” He squeaks out, flushing. “I must look ridiculous-“ He gestures you his hair your holding hostage behind his ears, taking advantage to caress his soft skin with the pad of your thumbs.

“You look cute.” He does. He looks a bit awkward, like a boy who just finds himself with too much hair and tries to do something about it. “Very cute.” You add, beaming when you see his embarrassment grow.

“Liar.”

He catches one of your wrists in his hand, bringing it to his lips to kiss the thin skin of the inner part. Lips soft, eyes soft, voice tender. “I thought about you a lot today...” Somehow he found you back too. He feels comfortable saying this while you’re sure he’s not used to it. Therefore even if you hate it, you can’t help but admit it. That you too, obviously, could only think about him the whole day. “I’m not here to stay forever, ___.”

Your airy smile flatters until it disappears completely.

Way to ruin the mood.

He senses it. Press the hand leaving his face back against his cheek, pressing the second one to his mouth again as if he could bring you back to him and forget all about what he just implied.

Obviously.

Obviously, his life is not here, in Hogwarts. He’s not a professor, he doesn’t want to become one, he’s here for a project that has a defined limited time - Mrs Umbridge made sure of it. He’s an adventurer anyway. He only knows forest and lands and mountains and mythical creatures, extreme weathers and dangerous places.

Obviously, you two only properly met a few days ago, only started to get to know each other less than 24 hours ago, it’s too soon to be in love, too soon to be so attached that a separation would feel that devastating. But even if you’re not, you feel in love. You feel wonderful in his arms, under his gaze, with his pretty smiles lighting on you and his sweet voice rocking your heart.

It’s so upsetting to think about. You don’t want to. Just him hardly bringing it up makes you so upset you could cry.

“But I- I know that you know that already. Maybe it’s clear for you that- we can’t-“ The more he talks the less sense he makes. Every syllabus seems dragged out of his mouth. He struggles so bad, your hand distractingly playing with the neck of his shirt, only because his hand wouldn’t let it go, you can feel his beating heart through the thick vein of his neck. “What I mean to say is- I don’t know what this- could mean to you. If it means anything or it’s just- like- fun,” Your eyebrow ticks at that. How dare he? “either way I don’t mind-“ He’s quick to add. “Really! Whatever you want is fine. I just mean to say that we can’t- I mean- at some point, I’ll be very very far away so-“

“Does it matter now, Jungkook?”

The whole dilemma is not that hard to solve, on your part anyway. There’s nothing you can do about his future departing, is it? All that’s under your control is either you decide to indulge in him, have him the way you crave to, feed in this lovely thing that’s started blooming yesterday evening between you two and later on, deal with the heartbreak you’ll surely have once he leaves. Or will you deny yourself this, still get the heartbreak but way earlier on and have to nurture it for probably less long but in this peculiar case, through a thick coat of regrets.

You hate to think about it all. You hate to think about a time when he’s not going to be around, not even only appearing at the end of a hallway, not even noticing you, not doing anything special except existing and breathing the same air as yours.

It’s clear for you. He’s right here, right now, literally right under your hands, there’s no doubt in your mind that you’re going to consume as much as him as you possibly can, if only he’ll let you.

He looks worried, concerned. Not on the same page as you maybe. Guilty too. While it’s not his fault. It’s your own stupid, unpractical dumbass’s fault for falling for the only guy that lives like a fucking wild animal and is probably inept to leave his wild savage life for more than a couple of months at a time.

An attempt nibble to his bottom lip. Your eyes shut close slowly as to not squeeze a droplet menacing to fall from your eye. He sighs deeply, leaning into your mouth for a moment.

“I guess it doesn’t have to matter now.” He decides, pressing a new kiss to the relieved smile growing on you.

"Cause you had a few things to show me, I believe..." It's subtle. Sort of. The words may be but the eyes you give him are not, demanding, minxy. Your intentions are no secret to him and you can tell in the way he smirks, kissing you again, this time his warm palms holding your cheeks still. He's made up his mind too.

It's all you needed to wash it all behind. Everything that could be too heavy for your shoulders or your heart to carry right now. Anything that could affect this moment, tarnish it, make it lesser than it could be.

It just has to be good. Only good and nothing else. His hands everywhere, on your ass, squeezing, on your breast, fondling. He seems to have remembered what you like. He's not withholding, he's not overly gentle. He's still awfully tender, awfully sweet because it's just the essence of his person, you feel it in every breath you steal from him. The way he carries you so softly, sitting you down on his lap as careful as ever as to not have you tip over and fall off of the bed.

When you're so greedy and almost rude in comparison, lavishing in the position he just offered you, groaning when you feel his thick thighs stretching yours wide, grinding already, sliding forward to feel his hardness anew against you. You touch him everywhere because his body feels surreal. Hard and taut and skin boiling even through his clothes. Your hands disorganized, impatient, start by unbuckling his belt to then jump to the hem of his shirt, dragging the cloth up and off of him.

You hardly catch a glimpse of fair honey skin before the light is shut off suddenly. There's the very recognizable thud of a wand hitting the wooden floor that hints at you that he's the one who did turn it off and you want to whine and complain and maybe even argue a little, and maybe more, enough for him to turn it back on but his wet mouth is sucking at your collarbone, the indignant scold dies into an insignificant, trembling whimper.

He lets you undress him. Even if you're missing the visual, you decide you'll enjoy the touch. His skin is so soft, too soft in a few spots where you guess he's been hurt, uneven, little bumpy traits, here and there, like the trace of a road on a map, scattered all over his chest, his shoulders, his arms. He feels wonderful under your fingers. Hot and soft. He smells heavenly, encaging you as he does, you're bathing in his scent, earthy, smoky, masculine.

You have the push him away, a hand on his jaw, another on his chest to have him quit mouthing at your skin and lay his back down on the mattress. In the very dim light, you catch his shiny eyes, wide and intense as they observe you in the dark. You lean over, pressing kisses you hope as loving as his on his skin, starting from his cheek, you feel moving under your lips from him smiling, descending to his hard belly without missing a spot.

Your mouth turns extra delicate when your lips meet uneven skin, as if you could hurt him, as if he hasn't been long healed and your lips aren't the last thing that could ever hurt him, it makes him gasps and sighs though, each time, you feel his abs tighten under you, his thighs stiffen.

"Am I hurting you?" You ask quietly, even if you doubt it.

"Yeah-" He sighs and you freeze. "I mean no! No, no, don't worry."

"Are you sure?" You insist and he groans in defeat. You might be palming his cock through his pants, which you should be patient enough to wait until he answers properly if you'd honestly like an answer. But the rock hard member has been poking your thigh for too long and you can't help it. He's so responsive too, concealing poorly his groans and his moans, his whole body and cock twitchy under you.

You're close to giving him more. To give him fully what he came for. Nails grazing with intent the line where the hem of his underwears lay but not moving down further, hinting at something more but not giving in yet.

It's exhilarating to have him so docile under you, waiting, hardly patiently, for you to give him what he wants and you can tell, from how hard he is, that he really does want it. He sucks his breath in one more time, loudly, and you snickers above him, excited as you are.

Until he decides it's enough. Raising one thigh fast and hard, pushing at your ass, making you tip over with a squeal. He catches you with the cheeky chuckle you've grown to adore, rolling you unto your back so he can hover over you. You feel so tiny under him, with his strong thick arms encasing you, the line of his wide shoulders barely decipherable in the dark. Your hand follows the line, appreciating him to be so willing to be touched, always leaning onto your fingers. When it stops at his chest, your fingers mean to play a little but you're stopped in your track by the thudding hitting your palm. It takes you a hot second to realise it's his heart, being so loud and agitated, so expressive from where it's hidden. Of course, someone as reserved as him would have a heart that vocal.

"Your heart's beating so hard." You comment quietly. You don't mean to embarrass him. You don't even mean to reverse the power button hanging between the both of you. Yours in your own chest has to be causing a similar ruckus. But it's his that matters right now. You can't get over the fact that it's for you.

"Stop teasing me." He grumbles. He's not even vexed. He's embarrassed, but you hear the slim smile in his voice, a sheepish one.

"I'm not. You should feel mine." He hums against your mouth, then backs away laughing a bit.

"Smooth."

"It wasn't-" You sigh in defeat. It was not a subtle attempt to have him take care of your tits. Seriously. He's too glad to comply though, you're not one to complain.

You only have a vague notion of time passing, of things progressing. Somehow a second he's suckling on your nipples through the thin material of your top and the next, both of you are naked, panting in each other's face. Your nipples erect and still wet, occasionally rubbing against his chest, two of his thick fingers pumping in between your folds, a third one occasionally teasing the entrance, hinting at a stretch you're so greedy to feel even though you're not sure you can take; your hands wrapped around his shaft, pumping furiously, squeezing hard to have him hiss and curse against your lips, with your thumb teasing the slit of the tender slick head.

His free hand is at your neck, resting there, fingertips pressing in your skin, his thumb toying with your swollen bottom lip whenever he's biting too hard on his own to kiss you properly.

"I'm close..." You whimper, nibbling on the flesh of his thumb. He smiles vaguely at you, hooded eyes unfocused, eyebrows scrunched from pleasure. "I want you, Jungkook."

"Like now?" Fuck. You really have to like the guy a lot. He dares stop fucking you too, all attention now driven to your face. You don't say anything, your eyes telling enough. He nods to himself. "Okay, now. But uh-"

"Jungkook, sometimes you're half-useless." You try not to be mean but you can't help some snarkiness to escape. You have patience. You have a lot of it. But he just makes everything so difficult. How can you be sin and temptation embodied and at the same time, be so fucking clueless? He's like the cure but also the disease.

You roll over on your bed, grabbing a condom from your bedside table that a certain friend I don't need to name provided you with, to then face him again, brandishing the foil packet in his face.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to-" He seems confused for a second, struggling to get the thing open and you wonder if it's been as long as it's been for you since the last time he's been with someone like that, or if it's been even longer. "but-" Growing even more impatient, you jump on your knees, kneeling next to him, taking the thing from him and tearing it open for him. "You're, like, a lot."

You stay silent for probably too long, frozen, hit by his words probably too intensely.

"In a good way! In a- in a, you're- I like you a lot and it makes me all-" He's talking too much you decide. Stuttering the sweetest things you have a hard time hearing while you're both naked in your bed, so near to get even closer, even more intimate to each other in a way you're too excited about to handle any extra pandering -especially given, you know exactly what he meant. Who would have thought? Jeon Jungkook talking so much you'd have to kiss him quiet.

"How do you like it?" He asks in a whisper, kissing your jaw in a way that makes you shudder. He's making you lightheaded, so dizzy, with the stupid jumps between his sexy lust-filled self and the adorable clueless dude he can also be.

"Just- however you'll have me." You answer, ignoring blatantly that it doesn't mean much.

So he decides. Laying you down on your back, hovering you. The thought that maybe you are made for each other hits you full face then, because that's exactly how you'd like him to have you. Just like earlier, so close, so intimate, sort of intimidating, dominating too. All yours and you, even more, his, with his soft locks caressing your forehead, lips so close you hardly have to make any effort to reach, not that he lets you have your mouth for your own for too long anyway, every few seconds, claiming it with lingering kisses tasting of greed. You know you're in trouble as soon as the very tip of his cock squeezes in. It's somehow a tight fit, even with his earlier ministrations, even with the ones from this morning that made you feel loose all fucking day. Jungkook only fucks you with the head of his shaft for a while, feeling you so tight around him, savouring the sensation but also worried he'd hurt you if he were to go further.

You're on edge. On edge of a devastating orgasm, already too fucking close, and even if you could blame it on the foreplay, on your hormones or whatever else, he'd know. He'd know it's because of him, because of how much you like him, of how good he makes you feel, how much he turns you on.

You don't really care. He's already panting in your ear, groaning and moaning with tight jaws about how good you feel and how pretty you are, when he's only half of the way inside and that's more than enough. It's kind of too much. Kind of impossible to handle.

It's a mewl to the shell of his ear and the digging of your nails in his firm ass that push him further and balls deep inside you. It feels like discovering new places within yourself, places you haven't reach before alone or with someone else, brings a rush of excitement to your whole body that translates in a vice tight clench around him.

He fucks you so good, it feels so nice, his cock was made for you. His rhythm steady, rather slow but powerful, sending you a tiny bit higher on the bed at each thrust, with one arm slid behind your back, his hand wrapped around the back of your neck to hold you still enough. It's little to no effect but it drives you crazy, having him own you like that. From all those places, his dick, his thigh pressing yours higher, his hands, his mouth, his words. Bewitching, he is. Everything feels and sounds and touches him, the air you breath tastes like him.

You wish it'd last forever but it can't. Like everything that tastes that wondrous.

"Jungkook, I think- uh- gonna come." You lie because you don't think, you know you're about to come even if it's been a couple of minutes since he's started. Conveniently, the moon chooses this very moment to come out of wherever she was hiding, shining right through the only window of your suite and hitting him right in the face to bring clear light to him and to his grin, the smug grin you've only caught glimpses of. Your nails dig deeper in his flesh, he gasps lightly and bites on his lip but the smirk doesn't leave, even though it looks ridiculous with his heavy droopy gaze, his red cheeks and his heaving. He's as affected as you are. And that's that precise revelation that throws you over the edge. You mewl aloud, turned euphoric with how incredible it feels to have him keep fucking you through your orgasm, with his cock dragging along your tight, sensitive entrance with his movements.

Soon he follows. You don't exactly catch the moment, too lost in your own euphoria to decipher when his begins, but you feel the change in his thrusts, sloppy and harsher, skin slapping louder in the quiet room and once you've both bathed fully in the pleasure, came back to the now calmer, quieter Earth, you realise your ear rings with the ghost of a raw, low scream that certainly was his.

Fuck, you need to hear this again but this time with your full, undivided attention.

But another time.

Right now, you're half dead. Your hearts have just started coming down from their high. With him laying almost entirely on you. The most of his weight he safely pressed to your side but he's clinging to you, the round tip of his nose buried in your neck, hands holding you tight against him and legs intertwined with yours. Your hand has found its way to his hair, the ungodly mess, fingers gently massaging his scalp, rolling the curls in between.

"So warm..." He hums against your skin, almost purrs. You smile lazily. "Never wanna leave."

"You don't have to." It's the exhaustion that renders your filter ineffective. You know you shouldn't have said that. You know even more so when he doesn't say anything back. "For now, I mean." You don't even know how much of this is a lie. If you really were only thinking about this moment, this night or if the future you both know too well, ugly but very real just waiting its moment to play out, was also on your mind. You're too tired and concretely, fucked out, to even think properly.

"I still have four months." It's a poor consolation. You don't mean to spoil it all. After having spent such a precious, wondrous time with him, you don't want to fuck it all up but you can't help your heart from squeezing painfully in your chest, your throat from struggling to swallow down the heavy ball that's lodged up there. Jungkook senses it. You know he does by the way he holds you tighter, pressing one of those kisses, the most tender ones, at the corner of your lips. "We'll figure something out." He says with an assertion you didn't expect and don't know the origins of. Yet, you trust him and the lump in your throat decides to leave for now.

Somehow, persuaded that you and your heart are safe with him.

A/N: i can’t believe i finished this fucking monster. i need sleep. i’m sorry if it’s not super well edited, i did the 33 pages in one go and yeah. also it’s been so long since i wrote actual explicit smut, i have no idea how it turned out. 😳 let me know :)

to anyone who’s made it this far, thank you so, so, so much. you have my infinite gratefulness and i sincerely hope you enjoyed it.

i’m off to sleep, i hope you are having a wonderful day. stay safe, lots of lots of love 💜

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

1K notes · View notes

sevlgi · 3 years

Text

bubblegum pop

requested: no

group: twice

pairing: sana x fem!reader

genre: fluff

contents: rich girl!sana, college!au, cashier!reader.

warnings: none

synopsis: An unfortunately hostile encounter with the school’s sweetest rich girl might just lead to more than you ever expected.

a/n: inspired by @pearicot‘s mean girl rosie series! (by the way, i’m not trying to feed into the “dumb sana” stereotype with this; i just thought that her personality fitted the character i was trying to achieve! does anyone wanna request continuations or scenarios in this universe 👀

word count: 3.3k

Something about Mondays the week of finals always got you in a bad mood, especially when you had to work double shifts at the same stupid ice cream shop you’d worked at for the past 2 years of college.

So maybe, just maybe, there was reasoning behind you snapping at the love of your life during your first meeting.

Actually, there really, really wasn’t.

There were plenty of mean girls on campus who you wouldn’t regret yelling at whatsoever, but you just happened to blow up at one of the considerably nicer rich girls.

Minatozaki Sana didn’t mean anything bad when she innocently held out a hundred dollar bill to pay for a $5 ice cream. She didn’t mean to seem pretentious, nor did she mean to mock you and your minimum-wage job, but you just so happened to take it that way.

“Really? You have to rub it in my face like that?”

Sana stared at you, the money that she held out wavering in the ear. “Sorry?”

Pinching the space between your eyebrows, you huffed out an exasperated breath. Luckily, there was no one else in the shop about to witness the stupidest meltdown of your life. “You think I don’t know that I’m poor? It’s five dollars for God’s sake, no need to bring out the big guns. Oh, or are you doing this to avoid seeming more pretentious with your daddy’s black card?”

The brunette’s hand retreated quickly, the heels of her Louboutins clacking softly against the pastel-toned linoleum of the ice cream shop. Fuck, you hated that linoleum. “I... I didn’t mean any of that, I swear! Um, is there an ATM near here?”

Once again, the girl meant well, and you took it badly. You scoffed, glaring disbelievingly at her. Some part of you was screaming out that you were putting your entire job at stake, and your morals as well, but you disregarded any common sense remaining in your brain. “An ATM for 5 bucks? Dude, just don’t.” Dipping your hand into the tip jar, you scrounged out a lousy crumpled bill and threw it down on the counter, shoving the bubblegum-flavored sweet to Sana. “Okay? Now get out, I don’t want to see your privileged ass anywhere near here.”

The dense gray clouding your mind somehow missed the hurt expression on the girl’s face as the staff door swung open. Wendy’s hands, though gentle on your shoulders, shoved you behind her with surprising force. “I am so sorry, Sana, it’s finals week. Surely you can understand? The ice cream’s on the house.”

“No, of course it’s okay!” Sana sounded genuine enough, that was for sure; you caught her glancing worriedly at you a couple times, nothing malicious whatsoever in her eyes. “I can pay though, are you sure?”

“I’m sure. See you in class,” Wendy called out, smiling all the while until the girl disappeared into the Lamborghini parked by the curb. As soon as that happened, she turned back to you, concern tugging at the corner of her lips. “Y/N...”

“Yeah, I know,” you mumbled as you crossed your arms. Already, you were regretting what you said, though you were far too stubborn to actually apologize on the spot. “No arguing with customers about capitalism. Sorry, Wendy.”

The girl bit her lip, scanning the store to make sure that there wasn’t about to be an influx of customers. Usually she enjoyed working with you; you just had absolutely terrible mood swings sometimes, and those days were nothing short of hellish for her to deal with. “Just head home. Focus on your finals, and come back next week. Okay?”

You hesitated to agree, knowing that you needed the money, but the grim expression on Wendy’s face told you that you had no other option. “Okay. Sorry.”

As you snatched up your stuff and shoved the door to the street open, you missed the sight of Sana watching you through the tinted windows of her 6-figure car.

“Really? Sana?”

“I know,” you groaned, biting down on the plastic spoon in your mouth. The flavor of the month (the only one you could eat completely free) lingered unpleasantly on your tongue, the taste of it oddly salty. “She was so nice about it, too.”

Jeongyeon and Mina exchanged glances, not touching their respective cups of “Ocean Caramel” either. It was extremely kind of them to come and accompany you on the slow days, both of them even offering to suffer through the gross ice cream with you. “If it was Park Roseanne I might understand, but Sana,” Mina winced. Jeongyeon nodded in agreement; after all, everyone on campus knew about the reputations of Roseanne and Sana.

On one end of the “rich girl” spectrum, Roseanne was quite possibly the bitchiest one of all. She and her Bugatti Veyron, the college upgrade from her old McLaren, absolutely weren’t to be messed with. People who went to high school with you often told story of the G Wagon she smashed, the locker room she lit on fire, and so many other horror tales of a spoiled girl gone wild. You were sure that had you gone off on her, even Wendy wouldn’t have stopped you.

But on the other end, Sana was notoriously kind. Sure, her family raked in an income close to that of the other girl’s, and her wardrobe was just as expensive, but she made a point to donate to charities every time she went shopping. She tipped in the hundreds, and she didn’t ever ask for her designer clothes back when she lent them to strangers. She paid any dinner bill in full when she was there, and sometimes even when she wasn’t invited.

No one was entirely sure about the relationship between the two, but Roseanne seemed to hate Sana more than she did other people. The two fought publicly occasionally, but Sana’s kind heart made it so that even Roseanne couldn’t carry a fight very long. She didn’t respond to insults, it seemed, nor did she ever seem to actually take them personally.

Stirring her half-melted soup, Mina continued, “Hopefully she doesn’t hold it against you. She doesn’t seem like the type, but...”

Jeongyeon shook her head, opening her mouth just as the doorbell rang. You froze when you looked up to find a designer-dressed bombshell, a sweet smile outlined in Chanel Rouge Allure. She looked completely out of place amidst tired college kids spending their last paycheck on ice cream, white gauzy sleeves and blue dress shimmering under LED lights. If you were being honest, you’d say that she was the most beautiful person you’d seen in your life, but you were always well versed in lying to yourself. “Y/N, you better go.”

“Why?” you whined, pouting at your much more responsible friends. They ignored your puppy face, though; Jihyo was usually the only one you could sway, Momo sometimes if she was feeling merciful. “I’m on break.”

“Only when there’s no customers,” Mina argued, shoving you to stand. Jeongyeon smiled at you, waving you away. “Go, and don’t screw it up this time.”

You forced a smile onto your face when you reached the counter, bowing and adjusting your name tag. “Hi, what can I help you with today?”

“Hi, Y/N!” Sana grinned, bowing back. The fact that she remembered your name only made your guilt worse; if she forgot who you were, you could at least pretend that she didn’t remember the incident at all. “Ah, could I have the same thing as last time? Bubblegum Pop ice cream, on a sugar cone today. 3 scoops?”

Nodding, you moved to open the case, avoiding the girl’s gaze as you did. “Of course.” She was quiet at that, staring at the ceiling so as not to rush you. Without prompting, you blurted, “I’m... I’m really sorry about last week, by the way. I don’t know what I was thinking, blowing up at you like that.”

“Oh, no, it’s okay!” she protested, waving a manicured hand in the air. “I promise I understand you. We all have our bad days.”

You wanted to apologize again, if just to assuage your guilt, but you held off on it, joking, “How do you deal with them? Yell at Gucci assistants?”

Sana looked honestly offended as she accepted the cone proffered to her, eyes widening in shock. “I’ve never done that, I swear! Besides, I don’t like Gucci much.”

A light smile quirking at the corners of your lips, you handed the receipt to her as well. She didn’t ask for it, probably not caring about the measly price or having the space for it in her tiny bag, but took it anyway. “I’m sure you don’t. Your total is $5.23, will that be cash or card?”

“Cash!” She held out a 10 dollar bill, pride shining behind that gorgeous face as you raised your eyebrows in surprise. When your hands brush together, you were reminded of how much better she was than you, how you probably weren’t worthy at all to be touching her with your shop-issued baseball cap and grimy apron. But Sana doesn’t seem to mind, still smiling that airy smile at you and not moving away. She broke your stare by offering, “I don’t want to sound rude, but keep the change.”

“Not rude at all,” you fully laughed that time, dishing out the remainder to stuff in your tip jar. You still felt terrible that she felt the need to apologize about such a normal comment, asking, “Are you sure it’s okay? You can have this one free too, if it makes up for me shouting at you...”

Sana shook her head, sugary light pink already mixing into her lipstick. She walked away, still waving with that gorgeous smile on her face. “It’s okay. I’ll see you soon, Y/N, you look really pretty today!”

Turning back to your friends, you whispered, “Damn. She’s really nice.”

You planned on spending your one day off from school and work cozied up with a good book and your favorite hot drink, but you supposed that getting into a fight with Park Roseanne wasn’t the worst way to go either.

As soon as you entered campus, book in hand and blasting music in your earbuds, you found a crowd of at least 3 dozen people right in front of the library building. It was unlike you to butt into others’ business, especially when it might lead to a ruined day, but Roseanne’s voice carried loud over the hushed whispers of everyone else. “--huh, Sana?”

It wasn’t any of your business, but for some reason, Roseanne’s tone when saying Sana’s name angered you immensely. Frowning, you shouldered your way through the crowd. The closer you got to the center, the more expensive the clothing that brushed against your own rough jean jacket was, cotton and leather becoming silk and velvet. You originally planned to just fit in with the other spectators, but with a shove at the small of your back, you were thrust into the center too.

To your shock, Sana’s eyes were red and shining with tears, the tip of her nose cherry-colored as well. Her head was almost bowed as she stared at her shoes, but she looked up to you when you almost bumped into her. You stuttered out, “H-hey. What’s going on?”

Instead of an explanation from the Japanese girl, though, your gaze was drawn to the blonde across the courtyard. “Didn’t you hear? Little Miss Perfect here got broken up with,” Roseanne scoffed, an infuriating smirk on her perfect face as she tilted her head at you. “By a future CEO, no less. I guess she isn’t a gold-digger, or maybe there’s some other reason that he didn’t want her anymore.”

Your hand shot out to protect Sana, a scowl making its way onto your own face. “Excuse me? From my standpoint, any future CEO is still way outta her league, so forgive me for doubting that he’s the one who didn’t want her. You’re the one dating someone who makes a tenth of what you do.”

Roseanne rolled her eyes, lips thinning. “Don’t talk about my girlfriend like that, Y/L/N, or you’ve got another thing coming. There aren’t many lesbians in this damn school.”

“You know me, don’t you?” Sana’s voice was wavering as she spoke, but it was strong enough to echo in the courtyard. To your surprise (and somewhat satisfaction), the blonde girl’s eyes widened as Sana stood forward, her lips jutting forward. “That’s why I’m not dating him anymore. I like girls, too.”

Somehow, you’d never expected that Sana was attracted to girls, but it made perfect sense. An irrational part of you wanted to cheer, but instead, you forced yourself to speak.

“R-right.” You continued to glare at Roseanne, who finally seemed to be speechless. “Yeah, so how come you’re tearing Sana down? We should be supporting each other, but you’re being so rude to someone so kind, and that says all I need to know about you.”

Reaching out, you latched onto Sana’s upper arm and pulled her out of the circle, people parting to let the two of you through as Roseanne wasn’t able to conjure up something to respond with. You didn’t stop walking until there was only silence surrounding you under the shade of a swaying tree, finally stopping to let the girl sit. “Are you okay?” you asked, brow furrowed as you knelt to be mostly face-level with her.

Somehow, there was a smile on her face; a slightly snotty smile, but nonetheless the most beautiful one you’d ever seen in your life. You ignored the uncomfortable leap of your heart when you reached out to take her hands into your own, somehow forgetting about the hostility you’d felt towards her from the beginning. “You- you stood up for me.”

“Yeah. I did, I guess,” you shrugged, smiling slightly. “I’m sure that was rough, though, to come out. How’re you feeling?”

“Honestly, much better,” Sana sighed. She leaned back, fingers curling slightly around yours as the afternoon sun shone golden brown in the locks of hair spread out on her shoulders. “It was good to get it off my chest. I didn’t even know you were into girls, you know.”

Reaching up to scratch your head, you chuckled, “Well, I am, if it makes you feel any better. What happened between the two of you, by the way? She seems to hate you so much.”

The girl laughed, as bubbly and airy as her regular voice. “I may or may not have dated her girlfriend before. But it was a long time ago, and I’m still friends with her! Roseanne just can’t forgive me.”

You feigned shock, swatting at her arm. “How terrible of you! I’m so disappointed.”

You were stuck simply smiling at each other for a good minute or so before you looked away, picking at your shoelace for something to do. “So. Uh, Roseanne knew the whole time?”

“She did,” Sana confirmed, nodding. “She just never talked about it.”

“Well, it’s good to know that she isn’t the only other one in the school with me,” you sighed, sitting back on your heels.

Sana lurched back forward, hands clasping together at her chest. “Then we should celebrate! We can go shopping or something, and we can just be happy that we aren’t alone anymore.”

It suddenly struck you how quickly you could change the girl’s entire outlook, a smile coming onto her face with no effort from you whatsoever. But even more surprising, you smiled even larger than she did just looking at her.

Laughing, you sat back on your heels and shook your head lightly. Seeming to take it as a rejection, Sana’s eyes widened. “Oh, only if you want to, of course! We can go wherever you want, we don’t even have to go shopping if you don’t want to!”

“No, we can go shopping,” you answered, reaching back over to squeeze her hand and pulling her up with you when you stood. “Come on, then. Let’s go celebrate.”

Sana wasn’t a great driver, but you didn’t expect much else. You were practically sick to your stomach by the time that you reached the mall, face green as you swayed out of the car.

“Ah, Y/N, I’m sorry!” Her hands rubbed lightly at your back as you squatted in the parking lot, fist held tight to your mouth. It wasn’t like you were actually going to throw up, but you didn’t want to risk ruining the girl’s expensive shoes. “I’ll let you drive next time.”

Next time? you wanted to ask. But you managed to stand, nodding quickly to ease Sana’s worry. “Yeah. It’s fine, I’m fine. Should we go?”

Immediately, she latched onto your hand, swinging between the two of you as she started to rush forward. “H-hey, lock your car first!”

Sana had unsurprisingly expensive tastes, but also surprisingly understated ones. She was fun to shop with, that was for sure- she loved to offer you clothes and also to offer to pay for them, but you didn’t necessarily hate a pretty girl telling you you’d look gorgeous in a certain sparkly dress.

She didn’t do any of the typical stuck-up things you expected her to- Sana carried her own bags, and she never forced you to follow her instead of doing what you wanted to. She did like to try on outfits and show them to you, but that could be ignored when it was just another opportunity for you to stare at her.

Eventually, you ended up having ice cream at one of the stores in the mall. You balked at the price, but Sana swiped her credit card without hesitation. “I have to admit, this bubblegum doesn’t taste as good as yours,” she pouted.

Chuckling, you savored the rich flavor on your own tongue. “You should’ve picked an expensive flavor then. Vanilla and chocolate are always good in these kinds of stores.”

“You know a lot about ‘these kinds of stores’ for someone who claims to be poor,” she teased, eyes widening as soon as the words slipped out of her mouth. “Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean-”

“Nah, it’s fine,” you smiled, leaning on your palm. “I’m good with it, since we’re friends now.”

Sana grinned at that, her eyes curving charmingly. “We’re friends? Most people don’t want to be friends with me, I’m really glad you’re willing to.”

“Why wouldn’t they?”

Looking down for once, the girl mumbled, “They say I’m dumb. You know that everyone says I’m nice, but they also think I’m dumb because I pay for everything. I just want to be kind, but no one takes me seriously.”

A wave of guilt rushed over you for previously feeding into the stereotype. The more time you spent with Sana, the more you realized that she was as brilliant as any other, and far more kind. “Well, that’s stupid. You are kind, Sana, and you’re amazing. I’m lucky to be your friend.”

She clasped your hand over the table, soft skin warm over yours, pink flushing in her pale cheeks. “Thank you, Y/N. You know, this is the best time I’ve had in a while. My boyfriend didn’t even listen to me this well,” she laughed.

Despite the fact that she treated it as a joke, you felt horrible. She was all too used to thinking the worst about herself and not believing that she was worth any better, and that was the worst possible thing you could imagine for a girl with a heart of gold. Jabbing your spoon into the remaining ice cream, you blurted, “Then go on a date with me. A proper one, not just a normal hangout like this.”

Sana instantly blushed, looking down as if it’d hide her face at all. But she missed the heat that rose to your cheeks too, the nervous biting of your lip as you waited for a response. “I would love nothing more,” she smiled, her eyes shining brilliantly. “And I can’t wait.”

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priyas-tiddies · 3 years

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Love Island Season 2 - Who really stayed mates headcanons!

Because Chelsea’s MurDeR Mystery was trash and destroyed so many characters I thought I’d share my realistic head canons for what islanders would actually keep in touch after the villa.

First the couples! (If your MC isn’t dating one of them of course)

Gary and Lottie would give it a go and stay together for maybe 6 months. It would be mostly physical with not a lot of communication. They would travel together and she would meet his nan but ultimately they’d realize they just don’t vibe as well in the real world. They’d both be petty on Twitter but eventually get over it. They’re friendly at reunions even though Lottie would probably try to put a curse on in him in a state of bitterness, Gary prefers to talk a little shit and then move on. I imagine they’re always friendly in person but it’s always a little tense.

Noah and Hope would last at least a year after the villa. They would spend some time traveling and enjoying their time together but ultimately break up because their plans for the future are just to different. They’re the type of exes to like and comment on each other socials for years even if they don’t talk outside of that. I really think they’d have a mature breakup once outside the villa. They’re grateful for the time they spent together and while it might be a little awkward at first they’re happy for each other finding what they really want in life.

Jo and Ibrahim would break up less than a month after leaving the villa. They rushed into things and as soon as they were on the outside they would start to overwhelm each other. I could see them having a bit of messy breakup just because they both suck a communicating.

Marisol and Graham wouldn’t last a week tbh. They might enjoy the physical aspects for a couple days but Marisol would put a stop to it fairly quickly. She was into the idea of Graham liking her but didn’t actually like Graham that much. Graham would be probably try and get super serious as soon as they left but we all know they had nothing in common. It would ultimately end super awkwardly.

Now some friendly hcs

Hope and Marisol would become super close friends after the villa. They’re both super career oriented women who found a lot of confidence on Love Island. I could see them getting weekend drinks, meeting coworkers and catching each other up on all their gossip. Maybe even planning girls trips together so they can take a break from their demanding careers. I also don’t see either of them staying in touch with any of the other girls either! (Except the MC of course. If Marisol married MC than I imagine the two of them would both stay really close to Hope and would eventually plan double dates with Hope and her new boyfriend *cough Lucas*)

Priya and Bobby would stay bros. They don’t see each other that often but Bobby is the first to text Priya whenever he’s traveling or close to where she lives. Concerts, pub-hopping, silly cooking classes, pretty much anything wild and goofy they’ll end up doing when they’re together. They have a truly platonic relationship and tell each other alot. Priya has even had guys get really insecure about her friendship with Bobby but some people just can’t accept that men and woman can be just good friends.

Ibrahim, Gary, and Bobby would try and stay mates but I don’t think they would vibe well with each other’s friend groups back home. Gary would try to bring them out with his friends but Rahim would get quiet and feel left out while Bobby would get to silly. They still grab the occasional pint and would plan an adventure golf trip when they get a free weekend. Gary would definitely be the first one to comfort Rahim after his breakup with Jo though.

Lottie and Hannah would have the fakest friendship after the villa. Not because they don’t like each other but I just think they’d try to overcompensate by acting closer than they really are on social media. In reality they would constantly make plans to hang out but never do it, until they just stopped talking entirely. Lottie would get petty about this and write some pointed tweets.

Lucas and Hope ok hear me out. They had so much in common and if it wasn’t for Noah, Hope could have had something with him. They both enjoyed the finer things in life but knew money wasn’t everything. She was independent and career-oriented, which he loved while he was a gentleman that knew how to be show his softer side. Some time after Nope breaks up, Lucas would reach out to her on Instagram to see if they want to catch up. Marisol would take it upon herself to play matchmaker and it would surprisingly turn out great. They’d be embarrassed that their friends tried to set them up but once they got to be alone they would realize just how much they really have in common now that their out of the villa.

#litg #love island the game #idk I wish it didn’t end so poorly with cmm #litg Bobby #litg Marisol #litg Hope #litg Noah #litg Gary

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outerbankspreferences · 3 years

Text

Is It Just Me? - Chase Stokes

Is It Just Me – Chase Stokes

Word Count: 2893

MASTERLIST

It's been way too long for me to find it this hard Sitting alone, my fingers picking the sofa apart An attempt to distract from the fact that I miss you I wonder if your friends have had to carry you home And stay for the night because they don't want to leave you alone Way before it was fun, it's becoming an issue

I know it's cruel But I kind of hope you're tortured too

It had been exactly 3 months and 13 days since you and Chase had broken up. You wished it would have been a shock to you, but you had seen this coming. Things with Chase were great in the beginning. He was caring and sweet towards you. You could remember a time someone had cared for you as he had. You always supported Chase with everything he wanted to do with his life. You met him when he had just started out acting, and you were proud to watch his career blossom to the extent it had.

But had someone told you 6 months ago that you guys wouldn’t be together anymore you would have denied the accusations. 6 months ago, you thought Chase was in love with you.

Chase had been going back and forth to North Carolina for auditions and eventually got the leading role in the television series. You spent the first month with him and his new cast mate Rudy, having the time of your lives with the other people on the show. The whole cast would go out to different clubs every weekend enjoying spending time together.

Just a little over 6 months later you were still going to clubs but this time on separate sides of the country. You couldn’t process what had happened in a healthy manner and instead turned to going out with your friends every weekend to keep your mind off things. It always ended the same, one of your friends dragging you up the stairs of your once shared apartment because you were too drunk to do it yourself. They had grown accustomed to the weekend ritual of getting you sleep wear and a bucket for the morning.

Then you would wake in the morning, puking the nights content in the bucket popping Advil for the headache and dragging yourself to couch, throwing on some stupid movie that you wouldn’t be able to watch anyways. Instead, you would pick at the loose strings of the sofa thinking of all the times you spent in the apartment with Chase.

Tell me, does your heart stop at the party when my name drops? Like you're stood at the platform when the trains cross Are you hurting, yeah you must be Or is it just me? Tongue-tied, screaming on the inside When I say that we broke up and they ask why Are you crying in the shower like a freak? Or is it just me?

As you sit picking away at the sofa, you mind wanders to Chase. You still follow everyone on Instagram, and you were still good friends with Rudy, so you could see everyone’s stories. Rudy had been the only one to keep in touch with you, which surprised you because he and Chase seemed to be such good friends.

You wondered if Rudy ever asked about you to Chase, and then you wondered what Chase’s reaction would be. Would his heart be in his stomach at every mention of your name, or would he simply shrug like you guys had never been more then distant friends?

You sat wondering if Chase ever thought back to the day at the airport. The way he let you walk through security with no more then just a side a hug you would give a sibling. Wishing you a good flight and see you later before leaving. He hadn’t even waited for you to board the plane.

There were so many things you had wanted to say to him. You want to tell him you loved him, that you would fight for him. More so you wanted him to fight for you, for the years you had spent together. To fight for the promises he made to you, the ones you made together and the ones to come. You wanted to apologize for not being enough, but you couldn’t find the right words, so you watched him walk out of your life.

I heard a rumor you've been spending some time With that blonde girl that you work with and I know she's exactly your type And my miserable mind's running wild with the picture Or are you there by yourself, dialing, redialing my number? And I'm calling your mother, spilling tears on my jumper again The way I am

I know it's cruel But I kind of hope you're tortured too

1 month later, Chase’s mother, Jennifer, had called you because she had seen the announcement on Instagram. The two of you had been close while dating Chase considering how close he was with her. Your mother lived down south, and you didn’t get to see her that often, so Jennifer was a close second.

You had heard rumors from Drew and Rudy about Chase and Maddie hanging out together more, and it didn’t come as a shock to you. In the last bit of your relationship, you played second fiddle to her on multiple occasions. “It’s probably nothing, it because they have scenes together.” Rudy would make excuses over facetime when he watched your face drop at the mention of her name. “Yeah, you’re probably right, nothing to get worked up over.” You responded in a less then convincing tone, “she seemed super cool the couple of times I met her.” “Yeah she is. I think under different circumstances the two of you could have been friends.” He encouraged.

When the nights started to get cold in LA again you found yourself struggling to sleep. It was at these times you would reread old text messages and look through old pictures of the two you. You knew it wasn’t healthy, but you weren’t ready to move on. Chase had extra time to mourn the lose of the relationship while you were still grieving. It was on these cold nights alone in the apartment you shared that you began to wonder if he was thinking about you. Was he sitting next to her thinking about you? Was he wondering whether he should call you or just delete your number?

It was early in the morning in North Carolina and Chase was sitting on the patio of his shared apartment with Rudy. The sun was just starting to rise in the distance as he found himself restless yet again. He had been awake for about an hour just laying in his bed when he finally decided to get up. He was careful not to wake the sleeping girl next to him. She felt different next to him compared to you. When the two of you slept together you always liked to be the big spoon. Chase let you, finding comfort being wrapped up in bed next to you. Maddie was different, she preferred to lay her head on his chest, letting the sound of his beating heart lull her into sleep.

Not soon after Rudy came on the patio too, and Chase cursed him for being a night owl. “Not tired?” Rudy asked pulling out the bong they kept under the table. “No, and I didn’t want to wake Mads’” Chase spoke up tossing Rudy the lighter next to him watching the blonde inhale the smoke.

“I can’t stop thinking about her.” Chase finally spoke up, keeping a hushed tone just in case. “Oh yeah?” “I shouldn't have left her like that. It wasn’t fair to her I just didn’t know what to do.” Chase explained and Rudy didn’t need to be a love doctor to know he was talking about you.

“It’s been 2 weeks, she’s okay.” Rudy explained and Chase gave him a confused look. “When you guys broke up, I stayed in touch with her. She was mine friend too, and I felt bad that we all sort of dropped her when you guys broke up.” Chase nodded his head in understanding but was still jealous that Rudy got to talk to you. “Why did you break up with her? Not that I’m judging, I just thought things were going good between the two of you.”

It was Chase’s turn to have a hit from the bong while he thought of his answer. “Shit man I don’t know. Things just feel different with Maddie then they did Y/N. I didn’t mean for it to happen, but it did.” “Are you sure you’re not feeling too much as an actor oppose to being a person. Sometimes having a love interest on show can be different and confusing.” The blonde tried explaining to him but even he saw the demise of the relationship before Chase start acting with Madelyn. “Do you think she’ll ever forgive me?” Chase asked looking at Rudy and he could tell by the look in his eyes that it was doubtful. “You hurt her man. I think maybe one day, but not right now. I think right now she’s just trying to figure out how to do this without you.” Rudy could see the few tears in Chase’s eyes, and he knew that this wasn’t easy on him ether.

Chase got up but before leaving he spoke one more time. “If you talk to her again, just tell her that I never meant to hurt her the way I did.” Chase still wasn’t sleepy but the effects of the marijuana did aid in his problem, so he finished off with a shower. He turned the water to steaming hot and then got in. He let the water soak his hair while he wondered what you were doing right now. It only took a few more minutes for the tears to start. Chase stayed another hour in the shower wondering if he made the right decision.

'Cause this would be one whole lot easier God, I know that's selfish but it's true If underneath some calm exterior You're all fucked up too

The first few months of quarantine had been rough on you working from home. You also felt alone all the time but seeing Chase’s Instagram post sent you spiraling down another unhealthy path. You had just started to get better. You weren’t drinking as much, and you had let your friends set you up on a group date. You knew you weren’t ready for another relationship just yet, but you also couldn’t hide in your apartment for the rest of your life.

You had also been talking to Rudy a lot more. He had been your biggest support through all of this. He had flown back to LA a couple weeks ago to help you move to a new apartment. You figured if you were going to move on you had to move from the place you spent the most time with Chase. It was bittersweet because not only did you have good memories at the home with Chase, but those memories extended to your other friends as well. Rudy had ensured you that you would make knew memories in your new place.

But when you woke up on June 14, 2020 you almost had a heart attack. It had been 3 months and 13 days to the day, and he had already moved on. Now you were stuck trying to grabble with the emotions you were feeling. In some messed up way at first you didn’t want him to be happy. You wanted him to hurt the way you did, but you knew it wasn’t right. There was a small part of you that was happy that he was now happy.

Then you were reminded that you owed Chase his half of the damage deposit. Rudy had told you they all moved back to LA and were waiting for season one to come out. You debated on just giving the money to Rudy for him to pass along, but you also wanted to face Chase, to show him that you were now okay even it was a lie.

You took the latter of the chooses and sent him a text. (Y/N) It’s Y/N, I have your half of the damage deposit from the apartment. I can drop it off or you can pick it up if you want. You stared at the text message for fifteen minutes before sending it. It only took five for him to answer and you dashed to look at the phone. (C) Oh shit I forgot about that. I mean if you want to keep it, that’s fine. You scowled at the text. You didn’t need or want his pity money. (Y/N) I’m fine without it, if your busy I can send it with Rudy the next time he’s here. (C) Okay, no that’s fine I can come by today and get it just air drop me your address. You did just that deciding against messaging him back.

Chase’s heart fluttered a little when he saw your name come up on his phone. He hadn’t heard from you in months, and he assumed it was going to be about the post on his Instagram. He made the decision that Maddie made him the happy he wanted to be and left you. He had just gotten back in town when you told him about the deposit, and he didn’t mind letting you keep the money. It was the least he could do after everything he put your though. His heart sank when you declined his offer but lite back up when you offered for him to come over.

He honestly thought of this as his chance to apologize for everything that happened. You didn’t deserve for him to treat you like that, and he owed you an explanation. He drove over to your house, white knuckled the whole way. You lived in a small, gated apartment building and he remembered Rudy telling Maddie B. about it. He remembered Rudy saying how excited you were for a new place, and he wasn’t sure if Rudy was just saying that to upset him. Every time Rudy mentioned something about you it always made his heart sink underground and he was reminded about the way he treated you.

Chase started to walk up the stairs to your apartment once you buzzed him in but to his surprise you were waiting outside on the step. You looked tired and had lost weight which worried him because you were small to begin with. “Hey.” He spoke not really knowing what else to say. “Hi.” You said and he could hear how sore your voice sounded almost like you had been crying. You were smoking, which was something new, but he figured this was just as stressful for you as it was him You handed him an envelope with his name on it. “Uh, I cleaned the whole apartment, and nothing was broken so we could all the money back. Your half is in there, so I just need your key to give to the landlord.” You explained looking at Chase. He pulled his keys from his pocket fumbling with the ring.

“Y’know, I never meant”- “Please don’t” “Please don’t want?” Chase looked at you confused. He thought you wanted an apology. “I can’t listen to it Chase. I know it’s mean, but I’m not ready to hear you apologize. I’m just starting to get better, and I don’t need you to set me back again.” You explained looking him the eyes. He flinched when you said again. He handed the key back to you. “Thanks, I hope everything works out. I’ll make sure to watch the show.” You smiled at him and he didn’t realize how much he missed seeing you smile. He returned the smile before turning on his heels to leave. “For the record Y/N, you weren’t the only one to get hurt in this.” And it was your turn to flinch at his words. “I guess grief looks better on some people.” And with that you escaped back into your apartment sliding down the door letting out a silent cry. What you didn’t know was that Chase was going back to his car to the same thing.

TAGLIST:

@drewstarkeysbitchh @taylathornton @jjmaybankzz @lemur46

#chase stokes #chase stokes x reader #chase stokes outerbanks #chase stokes x y/n #chase stokes x you #chase stokes imagine #chase stokes imagines #chase stokes angst #chase stokes heartbreak #chase stokes fluff #outerbanks

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jermanfrankmancollective · 2 years

Text

The Gang Buys an Alley House

A/n- This was written by our lovely creative team along with our friend, El! Mac is out of the closet and the Ass Pounder is a prototype, despite taking place around season 6.

Warnings: Drug use, homophobia/internalized homophobia & emetophobia.

Pairing(s): Mac / Dennis

Word Count: 10,248

Description: After Frank burns down the boat- he decides to try making up for it, by building a tiny house for the gang to relax in. It soon attracts more than what they've bargained for.

8:12 AM

On a Thursday

Philadelphia, PA

INT: Paddy’s Pub - Day

Frank enters the pub, a wild grin on his face. He spots the gang at the bar. Dennis spares a glance at him, filled with disinterest- he was still pissed about losing the boat- and goes back to cleaning a beer glass.

“I’ve got news!” Frank exclaims. Mac looks disappointed for only a split second, before Dennis- placing a hand on Mac’s shoulder- stops him from having an outburst.

Dee turns her head looking incredibly irritated at Frank’s entrance. “Ohh boy, what’s this now?”

“I’ve got somethin’ that’ll fix all this boat depression shit!” Frank pulls out a blueprint and rolls it out on the bar.

“We’re doing a colouring page?” Charlie instinctively pulls out a crayon with a bite taken out of it. Mac slaps it out of his hand across the room, which doesn’t seem to phase Charlie.

Dennis sighs, “That’s a blueprint, Charlie.”

“I was wondering why it was already coloured in…” he mutters in response.

Dennis inhales sharply and shoots Charlie a look that can only be described as utter disbelief, which quickly shifts to “I don’t even have the energy to respond to this.” He rolls his eyes, the kind that brings his whole body into motion with it.

“Right, okay, just- Frank, elaborate, will you?” Dennis gestures towards the blueprint.

“We’re building…an Alley House!”

“The hell is an ‘Alley House?’” Dennis’ voice raises. Anyone within 10 feet of him could tell he wants to go home.

“Made em all the time in ‘Nam! Exactly how it sounds. House- in an Alley!”

“That doesn’t even make sense!” Mac slams his hands against the bar, a heated glare evident on his face.

Frank waves him off, “Ya gotta trust me on this one, ‘s lotsa fun spending a week in one-a them. Besides, it’s the summer - tellin’ me you’d rather stay cooking up in the heat of your apartments?”

Charlie was already shaking his head with a fearful look.

“Ohh no, no, no, and nope. Negative, Frank. You ever seen the sort of creatures that lurk at night in the alleyways? Gargoyles, man. I’ve even seen those, like, little hairy devils that scatter on four legs. Trust me when I say this, dude, you do not wanna get into trouble with one of those.”

“Yeah, Frank,” Mac continues, adjusting his posture and furrowing his brow. “Even though I could totally fight off any monster that comes our way- I’ve been training like crazy and it shows- I’m too sore to do anything.”

“For once, I agree with Mac. I’m not risking a sunburn to do construction in an alleyway.”

“And I-“ Dee starts, but Mac puts an arm in front of her before she can voice her opinion.

“So it’s settled, then. Frank, we are not building your dumbass Alley House!”

EXT: Alley House - Afternoon

The gang is standing in front of their first ever and newly built- Alley House. They’re all covered in paint and saw dust by the end of it. Poor Charlie has the worst of it, with varying- and worrying- levels of splinters in his hands. He doesn’t pay too much mind to it, he has been working as Paddy’s resident rat basher for several years now. He’s worked up quite the callus on his fingers. The rest of the gang is visibly exhausted and dirty- except Dennis, who takes off his gloves, and then wipes off his sweatless brow.

Dennis offers a patronizing smile, “Good work.”

“Thanks, Den!” Mac smiles the sort of ignorant smile he always does. Dennis groans in response. “It is really hot out here…” Mac says, and after he knows Dennis can see him, he pulls off his grease stained tank top and not-so subtly flexes his glamour muscles. “Really a blazer today…”

Dennis looks unimpressed. Mac chooses to ignore his lack of awe, and holds his stupid grin for another pose.

“Well, out of the way, boners. Let’s take a look inside.” Dee shoves past Mac and opens the door to the newly built Alley House.

“Ooh. Lot smaller than I’d like, but uh, we’ll make do.” Dee looks around at the nearly empty interior of the Alley House.

“‘S an Alley House, Deandra! The real charm lies in the small size-a the thing - rough ‘n cozy, but not too hot either!” Frank steps in behind Dee, pushing past her to scan the interior. Charlie and Dennis filter behind.

There’s a short counter space near the entryway- perfect for setting a microwave or a portable stove down- the kind you’d use when camping. There’s room for a couch, and perhaps a pull out bed. There’s a ladder up to the loft of the Alley House. A horrifying look blooms across Frank’s face, “Aw, shit.”

There is only one bed.

Frank turns around, rubbing his hands together, a twisted smile on his face. “Ah-right, children, here’s the deal. Chawlie n’ I‘ll share a bed, Dennis n’ Mac‘ll get the otha one. Deandra, since you’re the only girl, ya get your own.” Dee’s expression lifts from disinterest to damn near glee.

“What? You’ve got to be kidding, Frank.” Dennis lets out an exasperated sigh, rubbing at his temple. “I am not sleeping with him.”

“Sleeping with who?” Mac pokes his head into the doorway of the Alley House, his eyes wide with curiosity.

Dennis hesitates, but quickly comes up with an idea; “Good news! You and Charlie are sharing this bed.”

Mac slides back into the room next to Charlie, who looks sick to his stomach. “No WAY, dude.” Charlie protests. “I did not spend an entire five minutes at the bar sink yesterday scrubbing Mac’s fleas out of my hair, just to get stuck in the same bed with him. YOU take him.”

Mac slides next to Dennis as he retaliates, and then back and forth as Charlie and Dennis argue over who gets stuck with him.

Frank turns towards Dennis, “Ah-right, you’re sleeping down here with me then.”

Dennis reels back, disgusted. “That’s it, Mac and I are sleeping in the loft!”

“Uh, yeah, okay, awesome,” Mac claps his hands together, shuffling closer to an agitated Dennis. “We’re sleeping together!”

“Don’t say it like that.” Dennis takes a step to the side, and Mac follows.

“Also, I don’t have fleas, that was one time and-“

“Yesterday?”

“Yesterday.” Mac pauses mid-sentence, glancing at the floor in shame.

“…Jesus Christ.”

INT: Range Rover/Home Store - Afternoon

On Your Bike

Frank, Dee and Charlie are all cramming themselves into Dennis’ range rover, with Dee in the driver’s seat.

“Frank, how come you got one bed, but didn’t think of where we’d get the rest of our furniture? Actually, where’d you get that bed in the first place?” Dee furrows her brows as she starts the car.

“Was unda’ the bridge. Chawlie and I carried it all the way home when we first got it from Duncan, thought it’d come in handy someday, ‘n it did!” Frank and Charlie share satisfied grins.

“Gross!” Dee looks back at the two in disgust before turning back to the road ahead. “I keep telling you not to hang out with him! It’s revolting. That mattress looks like it’s riddled with every disease on the planet!”

“You’re bein’ dramatic, Deandra. Who’s gonna let a perfectly good bed like that go to waste?”

Dee shoots Frank another look of repulsion.

“Perfectly good bed? Perfectly good bed, Frank, it looked disgusting! I am not being dramatic for questioning the hygiene behind a bed found under some bridge! Y’know what, why should I care? Those two boners are the ones stuck with it anyway- I get my own clean bed from the store.” She stretches the last words in a smug sort of sing-songy way.

They finally reach the home store with a mild amount of complaints and arguing. Now, came the real task. They only needed a few things- and then they could finally go back to Paddy’s, and chill in the Alley House.

Dee looks beside her, expecting Charlie to be there only to find Frank instead. “Goddamnit, where’d Charlie go?” She squawks.

“You tell me.” Frank mumbles, a hard boiled egg muffling his words. Where did he even find that?

Dee takes Frank’s non-eggy hand and drags him along to help her search.

Charlie has somehow found himself in one of the display rooms- one in which is set up like a bedroom, pillows strewn across the bed, a large rug in the fake room, and various other decors. He traces the pattern on a few fancy pillowcases with his grubby hands, his eyes sparkling. He traces the same pattern until his fingers are numb.

A distant noise breaks him from his trance.

“Dah-ay-loh-oo-tye…”

He quickly straightens, his neck craning to look for the source of the sound. It’s coming from the toy aisle.

He knows that voice anywhere.

Charlie dashes to the toy aisle. He pushes all the other boxes off the shelves, for there’s only one toy that noise could be coming from.

He picks up the box. He nearly tears it to shreds, focusing on the soft fur, glossy eyes, and calming aura.

Charlie has found a Furby.

“Ohhh…oh, you’re coming with me buddy,” He strokes the small tuft of hair on the small robot’s head.

“May-lah… may-may, noo-lah…”

Charlie squeezes the Furby in a tight hug. A squeal escapes his lips, and it gets louder and louder.

“Nee-may… noo-lah… day-kah-oo-nye…”

Charlie’s eyes flutter. His lip trembles. He can feel a tear fall down his face. And then he starts to giggle.

He doesn’t stop giggling.

“Sir? Are you alright?” A shorter woman, holding the hand of a young girl, reaches to touch Charlie’s shoulder.

The happy fool turns to face the mother. He pauses for a moment…a waterfall of crayon-coloured vomit comes out of his mouth, triggered by sheer joy.

“Dear lord,” the mother shouts, gripping her child’s hand tighter and running out of the aisle.

“Uh-oh…” the Furby sighs.

Another stream of bright vomit comes out as more gasps emerge from around the store.

INT: Alley House - Afternoon

Moonbeam Kiss

Mac and Dennis are standing by opposite sides of the mysteriously-stained bed. Dennis looks stiff, his jaw tensed as he looks to be lost in not-so-pleasant thought. Mac is scratching the back of his neck, his head tilted slightly downward as he shoots glances from under his lashes - from the bed to Dennis and from Dennis to the bed, waiting to see if Dennis will catch his eye. Dennis is fully aware of Mac’s idiotic glances right now, and is choosing not to look at him. Mac is convinced that Dennis simply does not see him shooting these uncomfortable looks. Little does he know, Dennis has had to master the art of vision through the corner of his eye over the years.

“So, like, how are we- how do you…?” Mac’s eyes are glossed over and he looks like a moron as he stares at Dennis, awaiting some form of guidance.

Dennis takes a deep breath and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Mac, you know you don’t have to make things uncomfortable? You’re aware it’s not a-uh, a constant necessity? Christ, I sleep on one side of the bed, you sleep on the other. Far as possible, though. I don’t want your- your goddamn fleas, or whatever Charlie was on about you having. My God.” Dennis- for a split second- loses his focus on trying not to meet eyes with Mac. He lets out a sharp breath of annoyance as he’s forced to see the image of Mac’s stupid, almost thoughtless expression.

Dennis spins around immediately as he hears the distantly approaching bickering of what he can only assume was Frank, Dee and Charlie returning. Never in his life has he been quite this relieved to hear any of those three, but he would rather be doing literally anything besides standing in half-silence with Mac by the revolting bed for any longer.

“Ohhh, goddammit Charlie, oh my god what is wrong with you? Ohh my god, what is wrong with you!” Dee’s voice is ultrasonic with disgust and horror as she rushes through the entrance, with what looks to be the colors of the rainbow splattered on her shirt. She speeds across the Alley House to rummage through her bag in the corner.

Dennis blinks dramatically as she flies past him, pulling a sort of “what the fuck?” expression at Frank, who was walking in. A sickly pale Charlie wobbles behind him. He seems to wear the same colors Dee has on her shirt, only he was gripping what looked to be a children's toy in his arms.

“Chawlie puked at the home store.” Frank looks exhausted.

“And on the ride home! On me, goddammit!” Dee screeches.

“They just don’t understand us, Grumblepants.” Charlie hiccups. He holds ‘Grumblepants’ close; the toy was already covered in rainbow-tinted sludge but he was not letting go.

“Did you get any furniture?” Mac places his hands on his hips, softly kicking the worn mattress on the floor.

“Oh totally! Look, we brought it all here! For you! NO WE DIDN’T GET ANY FURNITURE, DUMBASS!” Dee pulls a napkin from her purse and starts wiping herself off.

“I don’t really see what the big deal is, we can always go back.” Charlie whips out a Jazzberry Jam crayon from his pocket and starts chewing on it.

“We can’t go back, Charlie, we’ve been banned for life! For! Life! You dirtied a pillowcase, destroyed a toy aisle, threw up three times, traumatized some poor kid and her mother, and are still eating crayons! Where are you even getting these? I keep taking them away from you but you seem to have an endless supply!” Dee stomps over to Charlie, yanking the slobbery colouring tool from his mouth. “You! Can't! Eat! Crayons! You moron!”

“Deandra, calm down!” Frank waves his arms. “‘S not Chawlie’s fault! The kid pukes when he gets over excited!”

“Nobody does that!” Dee drops the nasty crayon and continues wiping herself.

“Go to your room!” Frank yells. His Alley House, his rules.

“Maybe I will!” Dee storms into her tiny barren space, yanking the curtain shut.

“Man, what’s her deal,” Charlie takes a Mango Tango crayon from his jacket pocket and slowly takes a bite.

EXT: ALLEY HOUSE - EVENING

Hotsy Totsy

Mac is on his way back to the Alley House from his apartment, with Dennis straggling behind in an attempt to look inconspicuous, not wanting to be seen with Mac, because he’s carrying his Ass Pounder 1000 prototype.

“Is this really a necessary thing you have to bring with you every time we go away?”

“Yes, Dennis. I am trying to liven up the place by bringing something personal, and since you refuse to bring your extensive and impressive sex tape collection, I am bringing something to compensate for your efforts- or lack thereof.”

“Well if you want something personal, just stick a rainbow flag up on the roof or something.”

Mac scoffs. “Whoa, thats a little too gay, even for me. God would sink this house if he saw that.” He continues pushing his ‘fist’ bike.

“Explain to me how a house built on land is gonna sink.”

“Uhhh, sinkholes! Duh! The bible talks about those all the time.”

“This is Philadelphia. Hell would freeze over before we have a sinkhole.”

“Den, you’re gonna have to stop joking about Hell, or we’re gonna end up there!”

“If you don’t think we’re already going to Hell, dude…” Dennis trails off.

Charlie interrupts their conversation as he rushes outside to greet them.

“Hey! You’re back! With a...bike? What the hell? I thought you were bringing back some decorations. Like my dog painting!”

“Nobody wants your stupid dog painting in the Alley House.” Dennis folds his arms.

“And plus, the Ass Pounder 1000 is like a jillion times more badass!”

“Oh god, is that your goddamn dildo bike, Mac? Why would you bring that into the Alley House-”

“It’s not a dildo, it’s a fist, and I told you, this thing is going to make us rich! We’re gonna be millionaires! Now, help me lift this thing into the loft.” Mac starts to lift the Ass Pounder 1000, expecting Charlie and Dennis to help him. They don’t.

Frank comes out of Dee’s space, and looks back at Dennis and Charlie. “Well, Chawlie, I convinced ‘er! We’re going to Deandra’s to get some more furniture. Dennis, wanna come?”

“Sure,” Dennis replies. Anything to get away from Mac for a bit.

The three of them head to Dee’s apartment, leaving behind two clueless members of the gang.

Mac gives up on lifting the Ass Pounder prototype, and puts it down gently on the floor, next to the door. He wouldn’t want to damage the bike.

Dee peers out from behind her curtain before leaving, groaning at Mac’s presence but less tense now that Charlie’s gone.

“Can you believe those guys? Taking my stuff. You know I didn’t even say yes? They just went ahead and did it anyway!”

“I totally get you man,” Mac stretches a bit. “I keep trying to get Dennis to invest in my Ass Pounder 1000 prototype, but he just won’t give in! And now he doesn’t even want to sleep with me. I’m a great person to sleep with!”

“We gotta start standing up to them more often.” A wave of sudden confidence comes over Dee’s face, and she gets closer to Mac. “I say we make ‘em regret throwing up on us, taking our stuff and not investing in our Ass Pounders! Truce?”

Dee holds out a hand, and Mac grips it firmly. They share smirks with each other.

“Truce,” Mac responds.

During their moment, another hand goes on top of the pair. The hand is filthy, and smeared with some type of bug.

“Truce,” this new person says, and both Mac and Dee look up at him with disgrace.

“God damn it, Cricket! We were doing our thing here!”

“I just figured since we were talking about being unappreciated, I’d join in, because I know that game! Felt right, y’know?” Cricket takes off his jacket and throws it on the ground, letting a cloud of dirt form around it.

“Nice place! Small, but not too small, and you could totally put a massage chair right there or something…”

“What are you doing here?” Mac crosses his arms and follows Cricket around the room.

“I was gonna use your sink to clean up a bit, but I noticed your new place and thought I might hang around. Even brought you a housewarming present, hold on-“ Cricket reaches into his pocket and pulls out a bag of white powder, tossing it at Mac. The bag hits him and bounces back to the floor.

“I’m not accepting cocaine as a housewarming present!” Mac’s stance shifts, and he’s clearly trying to intimidate Cricket out of the Alley House.

“More for me then,” Cricket shrugs and snatches the bag. Dee is visibly interested in this ‘gift’ as well.

“Hey, hey Crick- you mind uh- giving me some of that? Hm?”

Cricket holds the bag close. “No way!”

“It’s my housewarming present!” Dee states, raising her voice.

“Not anymore, you bitch! You do not get to taste my delicious drugs after letting your boyfriend here insult it!” Cricket reaches into the bag and gets some powder on his finger, slathering his gums in it.

“Woah, pump the brakes Crick, she’s not my girlfriend. She disgusts me. And plus, I don’t even like women!” Mac pushes Dee to the side.

As much as Cricket’s “gift” entices Dee, she’s had quite enough of people’s shit today, besides, she figures she can find a way to get it somehow. “Ugh, whatever!”

INT: Dee’s Apartment - Evening

Derby Day

After grabbing a few things from their own apartments, Frank, Dennis and Charlie enter Dee’s. Dennis shuts the door behind them and clasps his hands together.

“Right, we’re gonna need a lot of things. But don’t- don’t start grabbing just everything. We need to keep it uh, keep it spacious in there. I’d like this little holiday to feel somewhat…luxurious.” Dennis eyes Dee’s apartment. He could definitely do a better decorating job.

“Really, dude? Luxurious?” Charlie narrows his eyes at Dennis.

Dennis’ eyes shift up as if he was envisioning the Alley House for a moment. He tightens his lips in agreement that any pursuit of luxury in the Alley House is absurd.

Frank waddles over to Dee’s bedroom with Charlie following. They both begin rummaging through various drawers which probably- definitely- were not necessary to be rummaging through.

“Holy shit!” Charlie shrieks.

“Eh? What’s the matta’?” Frank spins around to face Charlie, who’s gripping a can of some sort.

“Dee’s bein’ watched, man! Come look at this! They’re watching her through this can disguised as this lady product!'' Charlie holds the can up to Frank.

“What? Where the hell are ya gettin’ this nonsense from!” Frank squints at the can, then up at Charlie.

“Says right here, Hairspy! You think they’ve got a camera in there? Or, or maybe each time she uses this she’s, like, unknowingly putting little cameras in her hair? I mean it is a hairspy and- Oh my god, Frank, that means each time Dee sees us, we’re being watched through the cameras in her hair, too! Shit! Oh my god, oh my god, dude, what are we gonna-”

“Chawlie, Chawlie, Chawlie! Relax! Says hairspray, not hairspy! ‘S a bottle of hairspray!” Frank traces his finger under the words on the can. It does, in fact, say hairspray and not hairspy.

Charlie blinks his eyes and opens and closes his mouth a couple times as if to respond, but doesn’t seem to know what to say. He instead resorts to scratching the back of his ear and offering a tight-lipped nod.

In the meantime, Dennis is on his knees under a small desk in the living room looking through, once again, various certainly unneeded items with little to no care for how much of a mess he’s making of Dee’s apartment. As he chucks records and boxes aside, something catches his attention. A white shoebox with only the word “BLACKMAIL” scrawled in messy handwriting across the side of it in black marker. Dennis cocks an eyebrow. He removes the lid to uncover what looks to be a variety of photos and papers, as well as a small brown journal. Dennis furrows his brows, his face turning pale as he picks up the book.

“Ohh, Dee you goddamn son of a BITCH! I had it for a week! I wrote in it for a week, at most! You bitch! You goddamn snooping bitch!” Dennis stammers to himself in rage, frantically flipping through the pages.

Dennis Reynolds has never had a healthy outlet for his emotions, nor any place to share his innermost personal thoughts. However, back in college, a 21-year-old Dennis concluded it wouldn’t really hurt to try projecting his thoughts somewhere for once. He only used the journal for a week or so before throwing it out, but 21 years with no outlet whatsoever can cause a man to quite literally lose it. A week was more than enough time to write a whole lot of things. Terrible things.

He begins scanning through the rest of the things at the bottom of the box - to his relief, the rest appears to be shit Dee had collected on Mac and Charlie. Embarrassing photos, scrapped love letters, basic stuff. As pissed as he is, he knows he’s incredibly lucky to have found the box, and he now has it all to himself.

Dennis is interrupted by a loud click-clacking sound approaching rapidly. As he scrambles to shut the box, he hits his head on the desk above him - but with no time to spare, he shoves the box behind him and turns to face the source of the click-clacking which has now stopped. To Dennis’ dismay, Frank and Charlie- both wearing bras on top of their clothes and covered in makeup- stand in front of him. Charlie seems to be the source of the noise, as he’s wearing red high-heels.

“Well?” Charlie tilts his chin down and looks at Dennis through his newly clumpy lashes. Frank mirrors Charlie.

Dennis’ mouth hangs open as he struggles to process the sight in front of him. He shuts his eyes tightly for a moment before speaking. “Well-“ he stammers. “Well? Fools, you look like fools. Hideous makeup, and what is going on here-?” He gestures towards the bras over their clothes. “Frank, your foundation is at least seven shades too pale, and Charlie, what is with that god-awful beret? Clearly, neither of you know how to apply lipstick, let alone put an outfit together! For god’s sake, you look like clowns!”

“Sexy clowns?” Frank asks, striking a pose that could only be described as ‘walrus-esque.’

“No clowns are sexy clowns!” Dennis huffs, before standing and pulling a small package of makeup wipes from his pocket. “These. Use them.”

Frank crosses his arms, his jewellery clanging together. “Chawlie, you know what to do.”

Charlie glares at Dennis for a second and grabs the wipes. He opens the package carefully, and shoves the wipes in his mouth.

Dennis looks on in utter horror as Frank and Charlie laugh maniacally in his face. “You guys are psychopaths…you have to be.”

“But we’re hot psychopaths!” Charlie cackles through a mouth full of wipes.

“You goddamn savages! Idiots! Savages!”

It’s dark out. Dee and Mac are armed with spray paint and cocaine, while Cricket is duct taped in the corner of the Alley House.

“This is an excellent idea, Mac. Really really really great. This’ll show em! I’m gonna cover the walls in dicks and stuff!”

“Loving your enthusiasm! But- one question- why did you need the cocaine?”

“Because Cricket wouldn’t fucking give me any and I got pissed!”

“Can you please untie me?” Cricket sobs in the corner of the Alley House’s main room.

“We’ve explained this a million times, Cricket, you’re the hostage! We’re gonna stage a break in, and spray paint all over the walls, and crowbar some shit!” Mac raises a crowbar above his head, unnervingly close to hitting Cricket with it.

“Let’s do this!” Dee pulls a ski mask over her face and begins to spray something onto the wall. Mac joins her with a smile.

“Fuck you, Charlie, and fuck you, Frank,” Dee continues to cover the walls in yellow paint.

“And fuck you-“ Mac begins.

The door suddenly opens.

“Dennis!” Mac hides the spray paint behind his back and shoves Dee behind the curtain, out of sight. She immediately starts shouting profanities at him.

Dennis doesn’t react to Mac, or the vandalism, or Cricket’s begs for help. He simply stutters the word “tired” and begins to wobble.

Mac drops the paint can and runs to Dennis’ side. He catches him before he can hit the ground, and he struggles to think of what to say.

“Are you okay Dennis- you hurt?” Mac scoops Dennis into his arms, giving him an ocular patdown to check for injuries.

“Dumbass Charlie,” Dennis whispers. “Made a mess of Dee’s place, ate my wipes, drained my energy…”

Almost on cue, the remaining two members of the gang burst through the door carrying Dee’s mattress.

“You guys look like drag queens! What the hell is wrong with you?” Mac has to use his face to express himself as his arms are full, and he imagines he looks pretty silly.

“We got yer’ furniture,” Frank laughs, ignoring Mac’s question and carrying the bed further into Dee’s space.

“Ignor’ em.” Dennis was never really like this too often, but sometimes he just got so exhausted he could just barely stand up.

“Do you need to go to bed?” Mac lowers his voice so Dennis wouldn’t get too overwhelmed. “Or do you need to eat something? Or-”

“Bed.” Dennis says sternly. His eyes flutter shut and Mac nods. He doesn’t want to admit it, but Dennis is difficult to carry, and it would be even harder to bring him up the ladder. But, as the rest of the gang argues and begins to set up the Alley House with furniture, Mac makes his way to the loft with Dennis in his arms.

“There you go, buddy,” Mac says as he lowers Dennis onto the mattress and covers him in one of Dee’s blankets. He notices that his sleeping friend is holding some kind of book, and figures it’d be harmless to read a bit. He pulls the curtain that separated the loft from the rest of the Alley House and begins to read.

The first few pages of the strange journal are normal:

Dear diary, I decided to write because I need to let some things out.

Dear diary, I’ve only been at college for two weeks and I want to go home.

Dear diary, I’m really drunk but I think I might have the perfect plan to burn this fucking college to the ground.

But when Mac flips to about halfway through the book, settling into bed, his face gets hot and he can't stop looking back at Dennis.

Dear diary…

I miss Mac. Everyone in this whole school is unbelievably mean to me. They don’t understand me at all. I want to go home.

I’ve been sort of buzzed the whole day, and with nobody to talk to I’ve been doing a lot of bullshit self reflection.

I think I might be in love with Mac. I don’t know if it’s just because I can’t get any girls in this stupid college, or if I’ve just had too many beers, or if I’ve let everyone else get to me.

But diary, I think I’m in love with him. And I am going to make sure that nobody ever finds out.

The next few pages were torn out. Mac knows he shouldn’t be reading it, but something inside him tells his hands to continue.

The handwriting on the rest of the book doesn’t look at all like Dennis’, and Mac can tell he definitely didn’t write it. Various phrases- all of which are offensive and made Mac sick to his stomach- take up the remaining space in the journal.

Finally, Mac reaches the end. The page is worn with teardrops and the ink is smeared.

Dear diary, I don’t think I’m ever going to express myself ever again.

“Jesus Christ,” Mac sets the book down on the floor next to him, trying to process his emotions.

He stays silent for a moment. He can hear the gang bickering outside. He wants to scream at them and scream at himself a little, too. But as Dennis wraps his arm around him those feelings go away.

“What’re you doing…” Dennis grumbles, still barely awake.

“Nothing. I’m not doing anything. Go to bed.”

“Thank you for takin’ care of me…” Dennis is slurring his words. Mac isn’t sure if he’s even conscious.

“It’s no problem.”

“You’re like- super warm, man.”

“Go to bed, Den.”

There’s a second or two where Dennis doesn’t respond.

“…I love you…like a lot, bro…”

Mac sighs, then smiles. “I love you too.”

“Wouldn’t it…be so funny…if we like.” Dennis dozes off for a split second. “Made out. Or something.”

Mac blushes but plays it off with a laugh. “Do you really think that’d be funny, or are you like- sleep induced hallucinating me as a smokin’ chick?”

“No, I’m for real…for real.”

“I don’t think we should make out.”

“Okay but- I do…” Dennis waves his arm around a little bit trying to find Mac’s face. When he does, he lightly slaps it as to say- why the fuck are we not making out right now?

Mac closes his eyes and presses his lips together tightly. He attempts to stop himself from blushing, maybe if he tries hard enough he can intimidate himself into submission.

And then he kisses Dennis’ forehead, and hears him giggle a bit.

“That was so gay. You’re such a loser, Mac. It’s kinda cute though. I guess.”

“Thanks, Dennis,” Mac says sarcastically. Dennis reaches his arm further around Mac, and he lets it happen. He turns to face Dennis and slowly wraps his arm around him as well. Maybe only having one bed isn’t so bad after all.

INT: Alley House - Morning

Mac, who looks to be either dead or asleep, has his arms wrapped around Dennis’ waist. Dennis blinks his eyes open slowly, and at first he’s not even sure where he is - that sort of half-asleep trance where one has no idea what’s going on at all, just that it is not time to get up yet. But it’s not long before Dennis feels odd, like he feels too comfortable, past a comfortable state, something Dennis is not used to whatsoever.

Starting with location; alright, Dennis is aware he’s in his own bedroom. No, wait, the Alley House - this is his first night in the Alley House. Wait a minute. As if he’d been splashed in the face, Dennis’ mind began to move quickly. Someone was hugging him close from behind. Not some girl he’d hooked up with, but Mac McDonald of all people. His roommate and best friend. Dennis shoots up like a bullet and struggles to untangle Mac’s arms from his waist. At this point, Mac was starting to gain consciousness too, rubbing his eyes in a sleepy daze.

“Mac, what the fuck, man!” Dennis stands towards the side of the bed, his eyebrows knit together as he tries desperately to replay the events of last night in his head.

“Whuh...what? Huh?” Mac is about as useful as an empty can right now.

“What do you MEAN huh? The fuck was that, man? Spooning me?” Dennis stammers, waving his hands wildly.

Mac has definitely woken up by now, but finds himself wishing he could snap back into sleep right then as he recollects his thoughts. Dennis also starts to recall very faintly what happened before they fell asleep, but it was so embarrassing he wasn’t quite willing to own up to anything he had said.

“Dennis, you- do you remember anything- from last night?” Mac scratches the back of his neck and gulps hard, suddenly regretting not telling Dennis everything he wanted to while he still had the chance.

“No- I do not remember! I don’t!” Dennis has gone bright red in the face as he circles around the room looking for his jeans and whatnot. “I’m going downstairs! Don’t- don’t- arghh!” He’s not sure what he’s trying to say to Mac, instead ending the conversation with an unintelligible, strangled noise.

Mac is left sitting on the bed, half his hair sticking up, looking entirely lost.

When Dennis goes down the ladder to the main area, he finds the rest of the gang passed out on the floor. Charlie’s face is covered in spray paint, while Dee and Frank had clearly gotten into Cricket’s drugs. Speaking of Cricket, he’s whimpering in the corner, duct taped and pleading to be let go. The Alley House’s walls had been covered in graffiti.

Dennis inhales deeply and runs a hand through his hair.

“EVERYONE UP. NOW.”

When nobody listens except Mac, who he shoos away, Dennis swears under his breath. He is losing patience, and fast.

“NOOOOOOOW!” He screams as loud as he can, using his “scary-Dennis” powers on everyone. That was what Charlie called it, anyway.

“Jesus Christ, Dennis,” Dee wakes up first, rubbing her head. “Quiet down-”

“Quiet down? You destroyed the House!” Dennis waves his arms wildly to gesture at the graffiti.

“That wasn’t us!” Dee sniffs. “It was- ah shit, what was it? Robbers! It was robbers!”

“Bullshit! That’s bullshit! Dee, you bitch!” By this point, Charlie is starting to wake up too.

“Hmgh?” Charlie still has Dee’s makeup on, although it’s smeared all over the pillow and blocked by bright orange paint. He’s still holding a crusty Grumblepants.

“Ah- and you tied up poor Cricket!” Dennis rushes over to tear the duct tape off of Cricket, but after getting it off his legs he decides he doesn’t want to be next to him for any longer than he has to. He let’s Cricket run off, with his hands still taped behind his back. “Why? Why did you do this?”

“Because you weren’t appreciating us, asshole!” Mac pulls back the loft’s curtain and shouts down at the group. He still hasn’t come down yet, because he doesn’t really know if he should. Dennis hasn’t told him it was okay.

“You did this too?” Dennis’ movements were getting more sporadic and violent.

“I didn’t do anything, but I was gonna! You don’t ever treat me with any respect! I do so much for you, and you won’t even invest a dollar into the Ass Pounder!”

“Yes! Because it’s stupid! I don’t want to waste my money on a dildo bike, Mac!”

“IT’S NOT A DILDO! IT’S A FIST! YOU BASTARD!” Mac nearly jumps down the ladder and runs to Dennis, fully ready to beat him up.

“Chill out, man,” Charlie rubs his eyes. He doesn’t entirely know what is going on, but what he does know was that Dennis woke him up from a really good nap and he is not happy.

“Shut up, Charlie! We’re in the middle of something!” Mac says, immediately turning back to Dennis and spewing random threats he knows he would never carry out.

“Yeah, shut up, Charlie! I still smell like barf!” Dee adds.

“Don’t try involving yourself in this!” Mac’s voice goes high pitched, and Dennis nods in agreement. “You don’t get to be involved!”

“Yeah, Dee, stupid bird.” The spray paint Charlie had huffed hasn’t quite worn off yet and it isn’t hard to tell. He starts to reach for more, but can’t find any. “Why are you even still mad at me? We like totally bonded or whatever when we spray painted the Alley House n’ stuff- and Frank even brought some pre-boiled denim back just for you-”

Dee and Mac snap back towards Charlie, Dee’s eyes rimmed with red. “No one cares about your stupid denim, Charlie!”

Faint rumbling can be heard from the outside of the Alley House, the gang pay no mind to it, or just can’t hear it over all the fighting.

Frank sits up from the daze he’s in on the floor. “Wha- what’s all the yappin’ about? My ears a’ splitting.”

Dee mumbles under her breath, “Mac and Dennis are having a lover’s quarrel.”

Dennis tenses up and his face somehow, somehow manages to get more red than it already is. And at that moment, as if he knows Dennis doesn’t want to respond, Mac shouts “We are not lovers! I swear to god, Dee!”

“What he said! I cannot fathom how you still think that I would ever get together with Mac! Mac, for god’s sake!” Dennis can see Mac’s disappointed expression from the corner of his eye, but he soon pushes it down with a swallow and a nod.

“You’re sleeping in the same be-eeed,” Dee taunts, waving a finger near Dennis’ chest. “Gay City, population you!”

“Shut up, Dee! Shut the hell up!” Mac shouts.

“You’re literally gay, dude, I don’t see what the big deal is,” Charlie sniffles. He’s still primarily focused on finding more spray paint, but he’s still technically a part of this fight.

“Internalized misogyny, Chawlie, they get it all the time.”

“That’s not even the right term! It’s internalized homophobia,” Dennis begins to argue, but a crack of loud thunder interrupts him before he can. “Jesus H. Christ, these storms get worse every damn year.”

“Don’t change the subject! How exactly do you know the right term?” Dee continues to taunt Dennis.

“Because I’m well educated on the social issues of today!” Dennis places his hands on his hips, his foot tapping quickly.

“And I appreciate you for that, Den. I really do.” Mac smiles genuinely and places a hand on Dennis’ shoulder.

“Don’t get all mushy, you stupid idiot stupid-ass!” The tingly feeling Dennis gets in his stomach whenever Mac calls him ‘Den’ cancels out his ability to dish out smart insults. He moves away from Mac.

“Someone’s blushin’.” Frank cracks his neck and pulls a flask from his pocket.

“Don’t say that like I’m still in highschool!” Dennis snaps. “And I am not- blushing!”

“I don’t even get why we’re fighting over this. We all know that Dennis and I hate each other and would rather like- eat scorpions than cuddle or kiss or anything.” Mac shrugs.

“It’s crazy how much I don’t believe you and you’re lying right now.” Charlie finds some leftover spray paint and attempts to roll over the back of the couch to get it.

“Mhm. Yeah. Are you guys like, boning? Or just smashing faces?” Dee asks.

“That’s disgusting! We aren’t doing any of that! I swear to god Dee, I’m going to kick your gangly ass and use your body as a rug!”

“Don’t threaten yer sister.” Frank takes a sip from the flask and wipes the white powder from under his nose.

“I can do what I want! You’re not even my real dad! And I wish Dee was never born, so that she wouldn’t have to be my sister!” He regrets his words almost the instant they come out of his mouth. Dee gasps, and it sounds genuine. The pouring rain outside only seems to get louder.

“C’mon, Den, that’s a bit too far.” Mac glances down at the floor, crossing his arms. He can feel the air in the House gradually getting cooler.

“Yeah dude, that’s like a new low. And you’ve gone pretty low, or whatever.” Charlie’s barely listening at this point. He’s probably just going along with whoever talks first.

“I don’t even care at this point. Just leave me alone. Go open the bar or something.” Dennis pinches the bridge of his nose and waves everyone off.

“Yeah. Sure. I’ll open the bar. Charlie, you’re coming with me.” Dee grabs Charlie by the wrist and pulls him off the couch, dragging him to the pub.

“I’m comin’ with ya,” Frank downs whatever’s left in the flask and follows behind them. “I don’t wanna be left alone with these two.”

“And I’m going to take a nap. Lord knows I need one.” Dennis trudges over to the ladder and up to the loft, with barely enough energy left to get him there.

“Den- Dennis, come on,” Mac follows Dennis up. The air of the loft feels damp.

“Oh my God, Mac! Do you have to cling to me like a child any time I do anything? BEGONE!”

“I just don’t get why you’re so mad at me! I know I gave Dee the idea to wreck up the Alley House, but I didn’t actually do anything! Because you showed up!” Mac fails to realize that doesn’t really clear him from anything. “And about the whole gay-conspiracy thing, while I am really gay I am not gay for you! Scout’s honor!”

“It’s not about the Alley House and it’s not about the ‘gay-conspiracy!’ I couldn’t give two shits about that!”

“Then what is it about?”

Dennis puts his hands on his hips and shoots Mac a condescending look. “What do you think it’s about, Mac? Hm?”

Mac thinks for a second…then realizes. “Is it about-” He checks behind the loft’s curtain to make sure the gang is gone. “Last night?”

“Of course it is!” Dennis sticks his arms out. He is absolutely dumbfounded that it took Mac this long to realize. “What the hell were you doing? A grown man should not be spooning his best friend!”

“I don’t- I don’t even really know? You just sorta-“

“I didn’t do anything, I can tell you that!” Dennis interjects. He vaguely remembers the last moments of the night before, but he won’t admit it no matter what. He’s just lucky he can blame it all on Mac. “Y’know, this is fucked up even for you. You promised you wouldn’t make the bed thing weird!”

“I never promised that- but even still, it was totally consensual cuddling. You were all like ‘we should kiss’ and I was like ‘man that’s kinda awkward so I’ll just give you a kiss on the forehead’ and you said-“

“Wait wait wait wait wait,” Dennis interrupts Mac for the millionth time. He seems genuinely shocked- he has no memories of that part. “You kissed me?”

“Again, only on the forehead! You totally wanted to like, French kiss me, you shouldn’t be making such a scene! You’re making me feel like a bad guy!”

“You are a bad guy, dude! I didn’t actually say any of that and you know it.” As Dennis wanders around the loft, he notices something on the floor.

He does a double take and goes over to pick it up. It’s his journal, left exactly where Mac put it.

“Did you read this?”

“No. . .Yes. I’m sorry! I didn’t think it was your journal, man!”

Dennis throws the book to the ground and closes his eyes. “Goddamnit, Mac, you bastard,” his voice cracks and he moves to the bed. Almost as if Mac isn’t there, Dennis sort of just breaks down right on the mattress.

Mac reaches out to try to comfort him, but Dennis swats his hand away.

“Don’t touch me.”

Mac had never seen Dennis like this before. He hadn’t cried once, not that he had seen, and when he was emotional it was almost always scary. Not this. Mac’s left to watch as he silently weeps. If it was any other situation, Mac would think he was faking, but as much as he wants to believe that- he can’t. It’s one of the most uncomfortable feelings he’s ever experienced.

Every few seconds, Dennis lets out a pained whimper or a shaky breath. Mac is still standing next to him. He messes with his hands. He has no idea what to say. He’s never been in this situation before. The storm is getting worse outside, shaking the small Alley House. A dribble of water pokes through a tiny crack in the ceiling.

“Dennis, I- I don’t think this will help anything, but I’m not mad at you. I sorta- I sorta feel the same way? I guess?” Mac takes a seat next to Dennis on the bed.

Neither of them say anything for a while. As minutes pass, Mac gets more nervous. His mind starts racing. Did he say the right thing? Can he ever come back from this? Oh god, what if Dennis hates him even more now?

Dennis keeps his head in his hands, but his tears have stopped.

“Are you- kidding me?” He finally says, looking back at Mac.

“Whuh?” Mac scoots back on the bed, a droplet splashing against his forehead. He wipes it off, confused, but overall ignores it.

“You really think that’s just going to make everything magically okay? You read through my stuff! That was personal, Mac! You think I was just- ready to tell you all that shit? No!” He’s screaming like he normally would, but his demeanour is off-putting. He looks more broken than angry.

“I said I’m sorry, what more do you want? And I’m not the one who was talking about making out and being in love with me and shit! You can’t do that and then try to pin it on me!” Mac stands up in an attempt to assert dominance.

“I don’t care what I said! I take it all back! Why do you think I was trying to put all this shit on you? You’re the gay one!”

“Oh, yes! Reeeaaal mature, dude! I bet you even remember everything from last night! And you’re lying!” Mac points right at Dennis, like an elementary schooler trying to embarrass someone.

“Oh, my god, obviously! Did you not hear what I just said? You are the stupidest man on the planet! You have to be!” Dennis stands as well, picking his journal back up and leaving the loft. A steady stream follows down the back wall, as Mac follows.

“This argument isn’t over!” He calls.

As Mac and Dennis continue to yell at each other, Charlie comes back from the pub.

“What’s all the ruckus, guys? You’re scaring Grumblepants.” He says, but Dennis and Mac ignore him and keep fighting.

Dee and Frank walk in shortly after, their heels splashing against small puddles formed on the floor of the House.

“Absolutely none of your goddamn business, you fucking morons! Imbeciles, all of you! I cannot be around any of you! I can’t trust you with anything whatsoever, you are all beyond insufferable!” Dennis is shaking with fury.

His voice dies down, and instead of the usual ensemble of cacophonous voices erupting from everyone, the only noise to be heard is a low rumble.

Dennis lowers his fists, narrowing his eyes in concern. The gang all share worrisome glances for a moment.

Murky water rapidly seeps through the entrance of the Alley House, and the rumbling only grows louder. The House shakes, the ceiling visibly crumbling as the rain continues flowing into the House. It reaches above their shoes, and when Frank tries to move, his feet sink into the floor.

“Ah, shit!” He yells out as the water begins to rise, though not alarmingly fast, as Frank would like to put it.

Charlie lets out a raspy shriek, clutching Grumblepants close to his chest.

“Ohh my God! Goddamnit!” Dee screeches and grips the wall behind her.

Mac is shaking his head swiftly, a look of utter fright painted on his face. “Ohh man, this is the end! The big man’s finally had it with us! This is because of the kiss, isn’t it?” He falls to his knees, clasping his hands together and shutting his eyes firmly.

“The kiss? The kiss? Oh, my God. Oh, you guys totally kissed, that’s what this is all about. I knew it! I fucking knew it!” Dee points a hand back and forth between Mac and Dennis, her other hand still gripping the wall behind her.

Dennis lets out an immensely pained noise, something between a wail and a scream.

Mac’s eyes widen and he swallows hard. The word “Shit.” spells out in his mind in big, bold lettering.

“NO, No, I didn’t say - you didn’t hear - we didn’t! It’s,” Mac stammers, shaking his hands dismissively. He has to raise his voice significantly over the deafening rumbling and gushing of water.

“We did NOT kiss!” Dennis screams.

“So explain Mac bringing up a kiss? I know what I heard-“

“It was just on the forehead!” Dennis snaps defensively.

“You said that didn’t matter! Ohhh, when we die here you’re going to hell!” Mac spits at Dennis.

Charlie is ramming himself against the door, but it doesn’t seem to be opening. He stops for a moment, entirely overwhelmed by the bickering and frustration of the seemingly jammed door.

“SHUT UP! SHUT UP! OH MY GOD! OUR HOUSE IS FLOODING! THE DOOR IS JAMMED! AND THAT’S YOUR CONCERN RIGHT NOW?” Charlie holds his hands over his ears for a moment before something seems to dawn over him, and he scrambles to look for a can of spray paint.

“We’re all gonna die! This is the end! We’re all gonna die here!” He hollers, punctuating his cries with huffs of the paint.

“Chawlie’s right, we’re all gonna die he’a like cattle! I’M GOIN’ OUT WASTED!” Frank looks to be more accepting of the circumstances in comparison to the rest of the gang, already downing a can of beer.

“Jesus Christ, fuck it, whatever!” Dee makes her way through the water which is almost at her waist by now and grabs for the remains of the cocaine from last night.

Mac and Dennis lock eyes as chaos rises around them, as does the water, which has now reached a point where it’s near-impossible to stand feet on the ground.

“Dennis, I’m sorry man! I really, really am! I don’t wanna die on bad terms with you dude! That would really suck for the both of us I think!” Mac half-shouts over all the noise, now fighting to keep his head above the water.

Dennis stares at him for a moment as he swims in place. He thinks Mac looks stupid right now. Incredibly stupid. Like a pleading dog in a kiddy pool. But that’s not what matters right now, right now they are in the midst of a flood, living their very last moments together.

Dennis tightens his lip and winces. “Yeah. Yeah, whatever. Forget it, Mac, It’s whatever.” His words sounded colder than he’d intended, but he wasn’t about to say anything even remotely more sentimental than that.

The two stare for a moment, treading water in the shared uncomfortable silence.

“Guh?”

“Oh, my God. I forgive you! Is that what you need to hear? God, you’re stupid.”

“Really? Oh, man.” Mac beams for a moment before clearing his throat.

Charlie, Frank and Dee are yelling over each other as they tread water, several cans of beer bouncing just above the surface of the water around their heads.

“I don’t wanna die like this, I’m too young! I’m not ready to go yet! Not with you guys!” Dee cries out and starts splashing her way over to the door of the Alley House.

“The thing won’t budge no matter what, I tried! We’re stuck, Dee!” Charlie calls out to her.

To everyone’s surprise, it opens as soon as she tries.

The water descends out of the House, pushing the gang along with it. They hit the ground with a thud, as they all collectively groan- in pain and strange relief.

“OHH, GODDAMNIT, CHARLIE! IT WAS A PULL DOOR, YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO PULL IT OPEN! YOU NEARLY DROWNED US WITH YOUR IDIOCY!” Dee squawks.

“Ya’ve gotta be kiddin’ me, Chawlie!”

“Jesus Christ, dude!”

“Goddamnit!”

They all shove past each other, scrambling to get inside.

“WAIT!” Charlie lets out a full shriek.

“Oh my God, what could it possibly be now Charlie?” Dee sneers as she watches him push his way back into the Alley House.

Charlie scans the surface of the cloudy water, his breathing quick and panicked.

“GRUMBLEPANTS!”

Charlie grabs ahold of the toy which seems to barely be in-tact anymore.

“Ay-way…”

Water sputters out of it.

“We’ll get you cleaned up at home, Mr. Grumblepants, don’t you even worry!” Charlie squeezes the toy tightly as he makes his way back out of the door.

“Ah-noo…”

Charlie is greeted by the gang all looking disappointed, but too defeated to complain. Charlie notices their expressions quickly morph into wide-eyed terror. He spins around only to see the Alley House collapsing entirely right as he’d gotten out.

They all gape in shock.

INT: Paddy’s Pub - Day

Take The Plunge

The gang's all safely back in the pub, drying off with old towels from the basement. Dennis is behind the bar, pouring a generous fill of low-quality beer into a glass. He slides it to Charlie, who hasn’t been drying off and instead is cradling Grumblepants. Every so often the Furby makes a buzzing noise, and Charlie shushes it. The rest of the gang have already been nursing their beers for a while.

“Am I tha only one who was against this ol’ Alley House thing from tha start?” Frank sets his drink down on the counter.

Dennis is still out of it from his fight with Mac and everyone earlier, and shoots a meager glare at Frank. However, a fire is sizzling uncomfortably in the back of his throat, and he can feel his hands clench till his knuckles are white- holding back a comment that would stir up more than he could handle. It was your idea in the first place, Frank.

“Whatever, we can all agree it was a huge failure,” Dennis replies. He stares into the leftover beer in his hands, shaking his head and tipping back the rest. “We’ll just move on from it like we always do.”

“I just don’t understand, man,” Charlie says, gently placing Grumblepants on a bar stool. “We put our sweat, tears and blood into that Alley House, and that storm took it out like that.” Charlie snaps his fingers.

“I told you dude, God has it out for us. Like c’mon, a storm and a flood? That’s fuckin’ biblical, man.” Mac finishes his beer and decides he needs something stronger, so he searches for whatever cheap whiskey he can find.

“Or we’re just bad at construction.” Dennis says. “The House didn’t even have a good foundation. A light breeze could’ve knocked it over.”

“It was pretty scary either way. It was totally filling up with water like crazy. We shoulda like- storm proofed it. That woulda worked for sure.”

“Storm proofin’s too expensive. Alley Houses are ‘sposed to be cheap, Chawlie. My pockets were already hurtin’ from having to buy all the equipment.”

“My pockets are gonna hurt from having to replace all my furniture.” It takes a moment for Dee to realize just how bad the financial damage is going to be. She quickly drinks her beer and gestures for Mac to pour her a glass of whiskey.

“Great! So that’s a Dee problem, aaand she’s gonna have to deal with it.” Mac shoots a condescending smile at Dee as he finishes pouring and hands her the glass.

Dee sneers at him. “Oh, right, okay, we’re doing that now? Right back to being a dickwad to Dee everyone! After she was the one to figure out how to open the goddamn door to save all our asses!”

“We don’t owe you jack, Dee.” Dennis rubs his temples, feeling a headache coming on already.

“Yes, you do! I saved you all after Charlie’s stupid mistake!”

“Oh, I’m sorry, how the hell was I supposed to know it was a pull-door? At least I was trying to get us out of there instead of arguing about whatever the hell you guys were on, a kiss?” Charlie waves one hand in the air, the other still latched onto a soaked and dirty Grumblepants.

“It wasn’t even a proper kiss!” Mac slams a hand against the counter.

“Ohh my God, I don’t even care! I do not care! Whatever it is the two of you have going on, I sincerely do not give a damn!” Dee shouts in response.

“Shit, I thought we knew this already? Man, I don’t think any of us care. In fact, I’m happy for you guys.” Charlie looks over at Mac and Dennis. Dennis holds his head in his hands.

“Amen,” Dee says, and she clinks drinks with Charlie. “I don’t care if you’re gay, you’re both just as annoying.”

“Well, no! I mean, not saying I’m not gay, just- Dennis and I aren’t together! Not like that.” Mac tries to meet eyes with Dennis, but Dennis is still unresponsive and covering his face.

Ignoring Mac’s attempt at deflecting, Frank chimes in. “Yeah, it really doesn’t matta’ what gendah ya’ are. Men, broads, whateva Chawlie is. We all mess with dudes. If Dennis and Mac’ve got whateva goin’ on, why should we give a shit?” Frank takes a swig of his beer.

Mac squints his eyes for a second as he processes what he may have just found out about Frank. He looks over to Dennis again, who looks back this time. He looks flustered, but defeated instead of angry or defensive, which is a rare sight to see.

“Wait, I’m a gender? Are you saying I’m a gender?” Charlie raises his brows in amazement.

“What? No, I think Frank meant- screw it. You know what? Yes, Charlie, you are a gender.” Dee snickers.

“Oh man, that’s awesome! I’m a gender!” Charlie grins with excitement at his discovery.

Mac chuckles and shakes his head before looking back over at Dennis, whose eyes are fixed on a spot on the counter. He almost looks to have loosened up a bit, which puts Mac at ease.

Just as Mac looks away, Dennis’ hand wanders to the lonely space of Mac’s, slipping his fingers around the roughened edges. They’re hidden from the world’s gaze, but Dennis feels a thrill and a spark of freedom, with his hand sandwiched in such a gentle hold. He glances at Mac, a glint in his eye.

Maybe they were bad for each other- all the toxicity festering over the years. The florid backhanded compliments oozing through them. The lying and cheating and tearing each other limb from limb for any semblance of truth. The bludgeoned cars, and gasoline and hospital visits. The kind of people who made the worst of every good situation. He looks out towards the gang. Dee’s joking with Charlie- who still holds on dear to his Furby- genuine smiles gracing their features. Frank jazzing about God knows what, to whoever’s listening. They’d surely break out into a fight within the week. He glances back to Mac- he hopes not. His lips tug ever slightly, revealing a modest smile- he covers it up with his free hand.

He feels strangely at home in the chaos. At home with Mac.

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