#this feels a lil low effort but that might just be because I hate HATE doing anything while sick | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

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

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robinrequiems · 3 years

Note

"Everyone keeps on trying to set us up but we are already secretly dating" clishe as jondami

I know its kinda late but I really love this trope xjkajkajkajka

OO NO. NEVER LATE.

• damian, at 17, has never dated anyone, never danced with anyone at a gala, probably never kissed anyone. his brothers had thought he was aromatic, which was okay!

• until they asked Damian about it:

Damian: ..where would you get that idea? i.. have romantic attractions.

• yeah his brothers were like: WOW! Oh my god! but they have seen how Damian disregards everyone, ignoring everyone and everything

• he only showed feelings to his family, friends, his animals, and jon. jons a separate category, they didn’t know if they were friends/partners/ or enemies sometimes

• but with the way damian smiled with Jon? and how jon hung out with damian? it was perfect!

• kon and kara have both watched as jon declined girls and boys, and basically everyone. he’s been asked out, jons a catch, he’s a sweetheart.. than why isn’t he dating anyone? jons dated people a few years back.. that weird middle school romance with Kathy, and that one week relationship when he was 14, but then everything stopped.

• like jon just no longer tried. they have seen jon laughing at his phone, but they don’t know why. it’s that stupid smile you get when you look at someone you love.

Kon: you aren’t worried about your sons love life?

Clark: ..do you want me to be worried about your love life?

Kon: I’m not— ( oh he thinks of me as his son )

• kon just dropped it, but kara smacked his head because of it.

• but anyways, the batfamily just wanted their little brother to at least go on one date! and the supers didn’t want jon to be alone, jon would be an amazing boyfriend, they knew that

Dick: look, Damian is.. restively calmer with Jon.

Tim: fair, but what if it ruins their friendship they have?

Stephanie: easy answer! we just don’t tell them it’s a date.

• meanwhile, here damian was, laying on jons chest and reading the latest chapter of a manga he just got

Jon: kon and aunt kara have been weird.

Damian: how so?

Jon: dunno, just like.. trying to investigate me. asking me what I like in a person.. it’s weird. it’s like when you tried asking me out

Damian: I didnt try to ask you out! I did!

flashback:

Damian: jonathan- if someone.. what do you.. tolerate in a person?

Jon: what

Damian: what do you like?

Jon: chocolate

Damian: in a person idiot!

Jon: hey don’t insult me): I like people who are.. headstrong, and uhh don’t let people knock them down, but also care for others

Damian: that’s so cliche, i like a cliche idiot who I have no chance with

Jon: what?

Damian: hm?

Jon: what did you say?

Damian: I called you cliche

Jon: okay..

current:

Jon: no you didn’t

Damian: yeah I did!

Jon: you told me you liked me and then pretended like I didn’t hear??

Damian: so

Jon: that wasn’t you asking me out

Damian: I didn’t even ask you out then!

flashback;

Damian: hello.

Jon: hi, you’ve been avoiding me

Damian, throwing a chocolate box at jons head: accept my chocolate

Jon, thankfully, his powers worked and he caught it: whats this for?

Damian: you.

Jon: okay, thanks

Damian, visibly panicking: date. you. me. please ?

Jon: huh-?

Damian: oh god I can’t do this, damnit!

Jon: Damian, breathe

Damian: I can’t, I can’t even ask you out properly!

Jon: oh.. oh.. Damian, Damian, hey, look at me. quit glaring- would you go out with me?

Damian: I was supposed to ask you):

Jon: it was a team effort

present:

Jon: you didn’t ask me out period

Damian: shut up

Jon: but they’re being weird

Damian: mine are too, they asked me if I was aromatic.

Jon: pfft, you’re the biggest romantic out there though!

Damian: i am not!

Jon: with me you are

Damian: no. shut up. but they’re being weird and trying to figure out what’s going on in my life. it’s gross

Jon: pfft

• they sorta just forgot about that. they really shouldn’t have since a month past and they are all celebrating damians birthday ( dunno his birthday, i get mixed results all the time )

• damian is awoken by dick who is forcing him into an outfit. he wanted to sleep all day. he’s uoset

Dick: hey birthday boy, happy 18th, you’re an adult now!

Damian: barely, all I can really do is legally move out.

Dick: hey, hey, don’t be a downer. cmon, everyone is here

Damian: everyone? please say you didn’t throw a party

Dick: I would be a liar then, sorry, lil d, but today’s a big day, okay? I know you hate parties, but you deserve one.

Damian: tt

• and low and behold, the only one down stairs is only jon kent.. damians so confused. and he’s holding flowers. and looking like he wants to sink into the floor. oh Jesus fuckingchrist

Damian: richard-??

Dick: surprise, I’m a liar. you two, are just going to go out for a nice lunch- have fun, if anything happens, call me.

Jon: hey, d…

Damian: um.

• dick just walks away, not before kissing damians head and wishing him another happy birthday.

• even though dick would actually like to spend the day with him, he also just wants to see if Damian and jon could work, but if it doesn’t, that’s okay. all he wants is his brother to be happy. dick does end up nearly having a breakdown in the bathroom though, his Robin had grown up so much, Damian was.. a petulant child when he first got there, and now? he’s a nearly functioning adult. he’s really proud of him okat?

• and dick is having: oh shit I’m old moments. but dicks so happy with the way damian freely smiled when he saw jon, even if he was confused. the Damian from even 5 years ago wouldn’t have done that. ( sorry dick and dami family stuff snuck in )

Damian: ..why the flowers?

Jon: dick gave them to me.. said to give them to you. they knew your favorites..

Damian: huh.. oh. oh no

Jon: huh?

Damian: this is a date

Jon: it is? oh no, I would’ve dress up more-

Damian: no, it was made by.. that. oh

Damian: they set us up

Jon: for what?

Damian: a date, idiot!

Jon: oh..

Damian: damnit.

• they hid their relatiosnsho because it was easier to go out in public, they didn’t want the superhero community to keep them apart during life threatening missions either. ( during life threatening missions, a lot of couples were split up since there would be a conflict of interest and it would cause many risks if someone was constantly worrying over their loved one, you know? granted, some couples are fine, but Damian knew bruce, he knew they would be separated. Bruce also knows damij would give his life for his loved ones. Heretic was an example of that, so he definitely would, Damian knows that he has a point, but he doesn’t want jon to be alone during life threatening stuff )

• and Damian didn’t want to deal with the fact his brothers might feel a little betrayed by the fact he hid for.. 3 years now. oh yeah, they started dating at 15. Damian.. loved his family, but sometimes? they were.. overwhelming. jon was just an escape sometimes, and he didn’t want his family to know that he escapes from his family

Jon: you know.. this wouldn’t happen if we just..

Damian: shut up.

• but dami & jon went out though, they went out for lunch and had a nice time.. minus the paparazzi Damian wanted to murder.

Damian: this is why I don’t want to make us public.

Jon: will we ever be public? it’s now or never, d, i don’t wanna hide us forever.

Damian:

Damian:okay. fuck it.

• and then they kiss. break the internet temporarily. and have to find a way to tell their family.

• thays. gonna be so fun.

#secretly dating au #cliche asks #damijon #Damian wayne #jon kent

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binniesthighs · 4 years

Text

call me babydoll | reader x chan

soooo shhhh this actually a part one shhhh but i’m just trying out writing out different things and getting out some of my ideas outta my head that i’m really excited about, this one being one of them!! for now...just pretend that this is just a regular ol’ drabble hehehehe. this part is the set-up chapter (shhh i mean drabble)

One

Pairing: self insert, female reader x bang chan

Genre: fluff, smut, and angst

Tags: (overall) bodyguard au, moderndayprince!chan, bodyguard!reader, secret agent au, royal au, action and peril, plot driven, running out of time, slow-ish burn, growing feelings, softswitch!chan, hardswitch!reader, some skz side characters, jeongin third wheel and comedic relief LOL, travelling, chan being expensive and having a lil bit of a superiority complex, flirtyyyy chan, bits of mystery, explicit language, mentions of food and alcohol, idk think like 007 vibes hehe

CWs: guns and gun violence, a shooting in a ballroom, mentions of blood

Word count: 4.6k

Parts

ONE | TWO

“I wasn’t expecting to see you here early.”

“Well, expect the unexpected.”

“Don’t turn the motto back at me. I’m sick of hearing it so many damn times.”

“What? You and I both know that it’s true. You’re here early too, so, technically you don’t get to say anything.”

Jeongin straightened his bow tie, then patted down the sides of his perfectly ironed tux with not a crinkle to be found. Knowing him, it was a miracle that he hadn’t messed it up in some form yet. He promptly took out his pocket square to clean off his glasses.

“You’re looking nice. Seems like they don’t mind spending money now on you these days.” He blew off the flecks of dust on his lenses.

“They know that they get their return on their investment. And thank you.”

You smoothed down the sides of your dusty pink dress that nearly went all the way down to your ankles. Had you any other choice, it would’ve been something different, but, dresses were really good at hiding your thigh holster compared to the slacks you usually favored. You didn’t mind the times that you would have to put on a pretty dress, it somewhat reminded you that there was normal life outside of your job. Not to mention, they had started sending you jewelry as well. You always had liked the look of a diamond necklace.

“You do your research for tonight?”

Jeongin nodded, then took from his pocket his phone to read over the details.

“I’ve done a background check on everyone attending, we shouldn’t have any issues. It’s already a low risk event anyway. Charity is never something to get too worked up over, but, you never know with the detail that some of these people come with...who they might be tied to...”

“--The only people we can trust is ourselves.” You nodded with arms crossed.

“Expect the unexpected, I know.” He slid his phone back into his inside suit pocket to adjust his cufflinks.

“--Nervous?” You took note of his fidgeting actions.

“Nervous? No. I’ve been through this before. You know that.”

You flicked your partner right on his forehead strung with his white hair. You had really wished that he had picked a less conspicuous color, but he had strings to pull that you didn’t.

Jeongin cleared his throat, “You do your once over?”

“Do you even need to ask? I did it hours ago and when we arrived. You know that I’ve done this before too.”

“I know. I know.”

Jeongin looked out at the vast circular atrium that made up the center of the hotel. Several stories down under the glass rooftop, you could hear the faint sprinkling of the intricate fountain which smelled of copper. A bit further down, you could see the tips of the tree branches from the indoor landscaping. Across the way, a door slammed with residents tucking in their ties. The two men you had recognized from the roster: a simple thing which made you feel at ease. Your young partner must’ve started to have an effect on you. A sense of unease seemed to quell in your neck. You always listened to your hunches.

“W-what do you think he thinks of us?” Jeongin broke the silence.

“Well,” From inside the room you had waited outside, you could hear his distant murmuring, so you lowered your tone. “I think that he has yet to trust us. It’s only been a few weeks. He doesn’t seem like the kind to give himself up easy. That, and I’m sure his resentment of his father must have some influence.”

“You think he hates us?”

“I think he hates his father for hiring us. I mean, wouldn’t you? His old security detail, he had them for years.”

“I guess so. But, we’re not like his old detail.”

“No. We’re not. I don’t think he gets that yet. I think he sees us as one more way his father has a hold on him.”

“It’s not like he can do much else about it when his dad’s a kin--”

“--No, no, thank you, really, it’s lovely. Some of your best work. Thank you.”

Chan swung open the door to his room, stopping Jeongin right in his sentence.

“Ah. You’re here already. That’s...punctual.”

As dazzling and showy as ever, Chan looking nothing short of a magazine model. For a prince, he had certain...appearances that he had to maintain. Today, it was a velvety and maroon suit jacket with a white button up. On the collar, two matching brooches had been perfectly placed, and they were silver like moonlight in the shape of English ivy and adorned with diamonds. On his lapel, he wore the royal insignia of the lion and the wolf. Behind him, you could see his slew of stylists cleaning up their makeup kits and obscene assortment of designer dress shoes for him to pick from. You had thought before that he even smelled like royalty: stuffy white roses with a hint of priceless cognac.

Jeongin bowed his head respectfully. “Everything has been prepared for tonight. The rest of your guards are surrounding the building, and I’ll be corresponding with them as needed, your Highness.” He tapped at his earpiece.

Chan drew his attention over to you, giving you a rather lusty glare. Over the past couple weeks, you had gotten used to it. He was a prince to every extent of the word. If there was anything that he had wanted, he simply had to ask. It drove him insane that all he could do was merely look at you. You had wondered if he harbored anything else for you besides the way that he would devour the curves of your shoulders and hips.

“Fox. Bee. You look nice tonight. I like seeing you dressed up. Makes me feel less out of place.”

You couldn’t help but let out a little sound of discontentment over his rather affectionate nickname for you. You and your partner had been introduced to him as F and B. Quickly he had figured out Jeongin’s codename as Fox, considering that he had done a poor job picking out one that wasn’t related to him at all. Anyone could tell that boy was fox-like, and he also just wasn’t that creative when it came to picking out a name for himself. B, or Bee as he had decided, was your name; as in bumblebee. After learning about Fox, he figured that there was an animal theme going, so Bee seemed to fit best in his oponion.

You tested his glare with your best, “Thank you, your Highness.”

Jeongin gulped. “Your assistant should be waiting downstairs with your itinerary. She told me that you should meet her first off.”

“You work too hard F. Have some fun tonight, hm? But don’t...drink too much. You’re responsible for my life remember?” Chan clapped his bodyguard on the back.

Your partner nervously laughed and adjusted his glasses once more: his preferred tic.

“And Bee?” Chan rose a brow to lean into close and whisper. “Stay close, alright?”

“Of course, your Highness.”

Chan let out a little scoff after getting one more proper look at your frame. “Damn. You really are stunning. Just a little too dangerous for me though.”

You rolled your eyes, dishing him outa, “Whatever you say, your Highness.”

Jeongin threw you and annoyed glare before tracing after Chan as he sauntered down the hall to the glass elevator.

“Bee? You coming? Or do you have something better to do?” Chan’s voice called down the hall with an echo and a little teasing gesture of his hand.

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

It had been seven years since you had chosen this line of work, and each time that you had to go to one of these things, you hated them more and more. Not because they were hard to control--they were easy--but you just hated how many superficial and self-absorbed people that they could fit into one room.

The air was filled with the scent of champagne bubbles and too much Chanel No. 5. From corner to corner of the room, and even next to the ice sculpture of the lion and the wolf crest, silk, satin; velvet and the best cotton could be found. Long gloves covered the arms of ladies with wrinkling skin, and tweed vests held in the guts of men who indulged in their food just as much as their mistresses. All this effort just to appear as if they had given one care about the philanthropic efforts of the royalty.

Several neatly dressed waiters passed you with golden platters of hors d'oeuvres made of ingredients so expensive, they would’ve cost the same amount as the generous donations made by the attendees. If you could’ve, you would’ve scooped up as many of them as you could, just to eat all of their copious amounts of money yourself, but, there was somewhere a rule that you had to keep your hand to yourself when you were on duty. The best that you had to look forward too was take-out to eat at 3 in the morning with Jeongin later.

Buzzing chatter filled your earpiece while each of the additional guards gave their hourly report.

“Damn. It’s fucking colder out here than I thought. It’s fucking summer.” One of them joked to the tune of the other guards laughter.

“Stay focused.” Jeongin scolded over the line. “Don’t leave your posts until your shifts change.”

While he was a timid man, Jeongin was not one to mess around. Son of the director, he knew that he had big shoes to fill. After pleading for years for her to admit him into the academy, she had agreed. Everyone knew the reason why she didn’t want him in this line of work. Too many dead. Too many missing. In some ways, he was also yours to look after.

You trailed after Chan who was busy talking to his assistant and his publicist. While he nodded at their words, you knew that he must’ve been barely listening. Chan never really was one for formality, but much rather enjoyed simplicity and pleasure. Jeongin and you had somewhat of a bet going: out of all the guests, you had liked to bet which one he would take with him to his bedroom. Since you had all the profiles of the guests, you liked to bet a little money on which one it would be.

Jeongin had guessed it to be the heiress and daughter of a tycoon who had made a multi-million won donation in the name of his company. It was ironic; his very company was a big-scale pollutor who liked to make nice with the crown. She was conventionally very pretty: long legs, a thin frame, she was educated and looked as if she could hold somewhat of a conversation...not like that mattered to him.

You had predicted it to be the foreign CEO who had just started business dealings with the crown. While she might’ve looked a bit stuck-up and prim, she was intimidating, and a challenge. Chan loved challenges. Chan also had a pension for pretty boys with a bit too much money on their hands--usually inherited--and with nothing much else to do other than dote on him. There were plenty of those attending the gala tonight.

Chan snaked through the crowd, bowing his head at all of the Good evening, your Highnesses and the It’s a pleasure to meet you, your Highnesses. Every few moments or so he would take a bite from a golden plate and then pop it into his mouth. The whole night long, he would hold his glass with him and it would get refilled for him without him even needing to ask. You sometimes liked to pretend that in some places, they must’ve assigned someone to watch him from afar to make sure that he would never need anything before it was given to him. It wouldn’t have surprised you.

“Having fun Bee?” Chan languidly rolled his head back, swirling his glass.

“As much fun as you are.” You quipped.

“Anything that I should be concerned about?”

“Nothing of concern.” You stated matter-of-factly. Had you matched his flirting tone, you knew that you wouldn’t hear the end of it for the rest of the night. “Fox. Report?”

“Nothing that I can see. No one has been tagging you.” Jeongin had staked himself up on the upper balcony of the banquet hall room, and had been watching for as long as you had been following after the prince. “You sensing anything strange?” His voice tickled in your in-ear.

“Just a bunch of the normal crowd.” You kept your tone down low. “He’s rubbing noses with the usual. You’ve seen too?”

He chuckled. “Yeah. I know what you mean.”

You followed Chan to his seat nearest the front of the room which had been fashioned into a stage with a clear glass podium in the center. Right in front there was one more crest decorating it. Chan had ensured it to be so: he had wanted everyone to know that this was all for his charity.

“It seems like our bets aren’t working out. He hasn’t talked to either of the...suspects.” Your partner changed his choice of words knowing that the other guards were listening.

From the opposite side of the room both the heiress and the CEO stood with thin glasses of wine in their lithe hands. Chan had in fact walked right past them, and didn’t even notice.

“Tonight is going to be a long night.” Jeongin sighed over the line.

You politely pushed past attendees with a raised hand and a sweet smile. You had found that when you smiled, you had appeared less intimidating.

“Oh wait...what’s this?”

“What?” You whipped your head around after Jeongin’s interjection. “What? Do you see something? What’s the call?”

“Relax! It just looks like he’s approaching someone he wants to talk to. I think both of us are about to be proven wrong.”

“Ah, shit.” You sighed. “Don’t put me on edge like that.”

“I’m only trying to entertain myself.”

“Name. Who is it? You’ve got the roster.”

You partner was quiet for a minute, and you watched from a distance as Chan approached the man leaned over a martini seated at one of the perfectly decorated tables.

“Uh, I think that he’s Lee Minho. Some kind of royalty from somewhere else. Pretty low ranking from the looks of it. I think that he made a donation himself...and it’s...damn, larger than you would expect.”

“Should we be concerned?”

“No. Seems harmless.”

“Thank you for coming,” You made out the words that Chan had mouthed. He drew a chair next to the unknown man.

From what you could tell, Lee Minho was handsome to the full extent of the word: nearly all of his physical features were exemplary and his suit appeared to have been fitted to perfect for him; likely one of a kind. He too wore an insignia on his lapel, but it was one that you hadn’t recognized before. He had immaculately styled hair that had some kind of rebellious and boyish charm to it. The man had a kind of mystery about him too: you had been able to pride yourself in being able to read people, and it had saved your life on more than one occasion. But with him, there was something that you couldn’t place.

“Do they know eachother?” You asked Jeongin.

“Not that I know of. School friend maybe? Seems like all the royals send their kids to the same schools.”

“Hm. That would make sense.”

“Enjoying yourself?” Chan said.

Lee Minho nodded, and rose his glass to clink it with the prince’s.

“Do we think that he’s our...suspect?”

The stranger dipped his head into his hand as he listened to Chan speak. A flirty gesture that you had seen a hundred times or more. Still, the way that he inspected Chan, it wasn’t adoring. Or at least, you didn’t think that it was.

“No. I don’t think so.”

“What the hell are you yapping about?” One of the other guards snapped over the line.

“Um, classified stuff.” Jeongin quickly explained. “Above your paygrade. Don’t worry about it.”

“Fox. Watch out for him tonight.” You snuck over to a corner of the room where you could watch the two of them more discreetly.

“Affirmative....” Your partner paused. “Babydoll.”

“Pffff--Babydoll??” The same guard stifled his laughter. “You call her Babydoll, Fox? Damn, you all must be closer than I thought. Didn’t know that I was missing out on some of the action--”

“--Ever heard of a codename, Three?”

“Babydoll’s her codename.”

A grin crept over your lips. “Expect the unexpected.”

You had almost gotten distracted enough to miss how Lee Minho had leaned over to whisper something into the prince’s ear. After he had done so, Chan laughed out a little, then reached his arm around the other man’s chair comfortably.

“They’re...cozy.” You updated your partner.

“I’m trying to cross-check where he might know him from.”

Chan’s assistant and publicist finally slipped away with giddy little smiles. In many ways, you were jealous of them. They could leave whenever the wanted, eat what they wanted...

Jeongin scoffed. “Well, turns out...nothing. I can’t find anything.”

“Nothing?”

“Negative. I’m not seeing any crossover.”

“So they really are strangers?”

Your partner sighed. “Looks like neither of us are cashing ou--I mean--finding the suspect.”

Under your breath, you wondered aloud, “Who are you...Lee Minho?”

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

The night drew on longer with the rest of the formalities: the formal dinner, followed by several speeches from important people while dessert was being served. It all led up to the final act: His Royal Highness, Prince Chan’s speech. On several neat notecards marked with the crest, he held them in front of him while he ate his last bits of Mont Blanc Chocolate Pavlova. Even the name of the sweet itself sounded pretentious. Granted, it smelled delicious--as many expensive things did.

You stifled a yawn from your little set up on the edge of the room. At least you should’ve been able to sit, but it turns out that sitting is also against the rules in this line of work. A couple other security and bodyguards had joined you at the edge: some of their heads nodded with sleep, and the others looked as if they had taken one too many energy shots. Luckily, your stamina had been well crafted.

A fancily dressed MC made his way up to the podium and the room filled with applause after the last speaker had said all of their correct mandatory words.

“It is my honor to introduce to the stage, our wonderful head benefactor of this organization, His Royal Highness, Prince Chan of the Crown.

Applause tenfold of before erupted through the whole room and it wasn’t even an afterthought for the every attendee to stand up from their seats in an ovation. It was a force of habit for you, but you found yourself clapping as well.

Chan rose with grace, and re-buttoned his jacket with finesse. A blinding spotlight found him and it made the diamonds adorning his beck wink brilliantly. Even more blinding was his pearl white, and perfectly trained smile accompanied by his wave.

Thank you. Thank you. He mouthed.

“It’s like he’s a frickin’ movie star.” Jeongin groaned.

“Might as well be with the way that they treat him. You know deep down they’re all just terrified.”

Chan made his way up to the stage in all of his regality, and the applause didn’t stop until he cleared his throat. A collective groaning of a couple hundred chairs squeaked when everyone sat back down.

“Thank you everyone, really. I wanted to thank you all for your generous support in your donations to this organization, as well as your association with the crown. I’m sure that all the beneficiaries of your donations are beyond thankful compared to me. Without you, this would not be possible.” Chan spoke with grandiose gestures, as usual, but this time, he had found you on the side of the room. “Listen, aside from being a prince, I’m also just a person. A person who knows what it means to struggle, to--”

“--I can’t listen to this anymore.” You whispered into the quiet room, and to your partner.

“Just a few more hours.” He droned. “I almost wish that something would happen so that we don’t have to sit though much else of this.”

“Be careful what you wish for.”

In the corner of your eye, Lee Minho shifted in his seat, but still kept his undivided attention to the stage. You figured he must’ve been just like the rest of them: enamored by the flashiness of the crown--and Chan. He had a way of putting a spell on people: it was the kind of spell that a prince of deception had crafted after years of being kept under lock and key.

“--Anyway, what I’m trying to say, royal or fanciful we all might be, in the simplest way, we’re all just people, therefore this is what connects us all. Thank you.”

Chan was gifted yet another standing ovation that was somehow even more thunderous than before.

“Yeah right.” You scoffed. “People born into money. There’s a difference.”

Chan gave his last waves, then a clamor echoed from the back of the room. At first, it had just sounded like the same raucous laughter you had heard all night, but then it shifted to something different. The sound of laugher turned into shouting, then screams: high pitched and piercing. You had seconds to respond, head whipping around the room to catch sight of the confused prince. In your in-ears, the the sound of gunshots echoed with rapid-fire speed. Machine guns. Shouting commands barked in your ear, and muddled with Jeongin’s string of demands and questions.

“WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON OUT THERE? REPORT! REPORT!”

Your heart instantly started beating into hyperdrive, and your legs sprinted as fast has physically possible

“THEY’VE GOT GUNS!” A shrill and cracked voice of an older woman wailed from the back of the room.

Immediately after she had said so, shots fired into the darkened room with sparks, and the metallic sound of bullets hitting the marbled ground followed.

Chan looked around in his panic for you, petrified on the stage. You slung your gun out from your thigh holster and latched onto him with all of your might.

“TH-THEY JUST CAME OUT OF NOWHERE IN THESE VANS. THEY’RE ARMOURED, WE CAN’T--”

“Get the fuck down there and secure the exists!” Jeongin growled into his mic. “B--is the prince secure??”

“Secure!” You yelled back. Using your body as a barrier, you led the cowering prince through the mass hysteria of the crowd.

“Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Shit.” Chan shook under your iron grip.

More shots fired into the room and bodies parted like the sea and fell over each other.

From the balcony, you had caught Jeongin aiming his own gun at the chaos below.

“I’ll cover you! Fuck! There’s so many of them! Get him to the car out back--Three, Six, meet B out there! Three!? Six!? Report!”

“Three and Six are down F!” One of the guards panted. “I can provide cover out back!!”

“Who’s speaking??” Jeongin bellowed, then aimed from above at one of the intruders. Your only focus was on weaving you and Chan out of there, but you had seen one of them in a blur. Each of the men with guns wore dark grey suits with black ties and leather gloves. Each of them wore their own crest: and it was all red.

“Bee?? Bee???” Chan shouted out for you, and jumped every time the crack of a shot echoed in the ballroom.

“I’ve got you, your Highness. We’ll be out soon. Keep your head down and listen to me.” Your arm held to him tightly, and you soon found the exit nearest. There was no telling if there would be more of them outside, but you loaded your gun quickly just in case, and pointed it out.

“Jeongin, get your ass down here!”

“Jeongin? Who the fuck is that??” Chan ducked down to hide himself behind your frame.

His name had slipped on your tongue, but that hardly mattered.

“I’ll be down in a second!!!”

“Don’t fucking waste time up there when I need you down here!!”

“Two! Two Reporting!!” A man suddenly yelled in your in-ear. “I’ve made it out back and I’ve secured the exit. The car is safe!!”

“FOX! Now!”

Your partner heaved, “I’m coming, I’m coming!!”

You kicked open the exit door, gun’s still blazing, however one one else could be found on the other side.

“Thank God,” You sighed.

“Oh shit, I’m gonna be sick.” Chan had turned paler than white, then stumbled in your arms.

“Hey, HEY!” You held him upright. “It’s gonna be alright. I’ve got you. You’re safe. You need to trust me. Your life is in my hands and I’m not giving it up easy, got it?”

“O-okay.” He stammered, then attempted to straighten himself.

“The Prince is outside, repeat, The Prince is outside. Two, are you in position?”

“Yes. Yes, I am.”

Other than the fact that you had just escaped absolute peril, the evening was unbearably pleasant. Crickets chirped in the summer evening, and the humidity of the night smelled gorgeously of the lake that was near-by as well as the vast array of flowers that had been purposefully landscaped around the hotel. Chan’s uneven steps scraped at the gravel walkway.

Since you had canvassed the whole building well, you had known exactly where the getaway car was, but you were still careful.

“Bee. Bee!” Chan blabbered. “Have-have I told you yet that I-I’m in love with you?”

“No, you haven’t Your Highness.”

“I fucking am. If I die tonight, I want you to know that I am ridiculously in love with you, and fuck, I wanna--”

“--I’m sorry, Your Highness, respectfully, but now is not the time for this and you are not dying on my watch.”

Somewhere off in the distance, frogs croaked, and the splashing of fish in the lake plopped at the surface waters. You turned a corner to finally see Two waiting his his gun raised. He was a bit of a shorter and scrawnier man, but something about him told you that where he lacked in strength, he must’ve made up for in agility.

“I’m out! I’m out!” Your partner gasped, and over the in-ear you could hear his running footsteps. “I’m almost there! I’ll be there in a second!”

“Your Highness,” Two bowed and opened the car door. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. You can call me Two or J. Either you prefer.”

Jeongin came bounding around the corner with heaving breaths and his clothes askew. His glasses which just barely held onto his face had a crack on them and his knuckles were covered in blood.

“Let’s go.” The younger man prompted.

“In the car you go, Your Highness.” You motioned for him to do so.

Chan whimpered like a toddler.

You shoved his body in, “Stop that. Get in the car.”

“I’m in love with you Bee!” He yelled out, “I’M FUCKING IN LOVE WITH YOU BEE!”

Jeongin slammed the door in his face with a bit of a chuckle.

“He’s delirious.”

“Mm.” your partner smiled. “Sure.”

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just-a-creep-babe · 3 years

Note

What type of April fools pranks would the creeps pull

-tiny anon

I, ah, went more-so with how they act on April fools instead of what pranks they do, mostly just cause I’m bad at thinking of pranks :”)

ALSO I didn’t have much time to write this & I wanted it out by today, so it might not be as refined as my other writing 😳👉👈

Nonetheless, hope this is alright! ☺️💖

Masterlist: x

Slenderman

No pranks from him tbh

This tired eldritch dad is, unfortunately, probably gonna (unintentionally) get the brunt of most pranks—just cause he’s at the wrong place at the wrong time 😐😔

And, y’know, you would THINK that because he’s telepathic, he’d be able to get a read on what the lil shits are planning, right?

But nope

He never prods into the others’ brains unless he has a reason to (out of respect for their privacy), so he ultimately always ends up paying the price

It doesn’t help that he tends to forget humans have this specific tradition once a year

Otherwise, he probably WOULD peer into their minds to find out what they’re planning

It somehow just always sneaks up on him smh

There was maybe only one year that he just so ~happened~ to remember

And that was pretty much the only year he didn’t get fooled by anyone/anything ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Jeff the Killer

Oh boy

One of the absolute worst people to get pranked by

When he combines forces with BEN?

The two are unstoppable

Pranks range from the classic slime-over-the-doorframe trick to some of the most innovative, dickish pranks he can think of

If only he used his powers for good 😔👊

He can & WILL flip the entire mansion around, if need be, to prank people

Nothing’s off limits if it means he gets to humiliate someone

(Even though he should know not to cross certain boundaries smdh)

He pretty much always ends up having to do EXTRA chores for Slender as a punishment for going too far :”)

BEN Drowned

My mans is part of the aforementioned chaos duo

Being a ghost entity that roams the internet, he happens to get ~plenty~ of ideas to fool the others with

He will legit spend WEEKS planning ahead for what he wants to do, how he wants to do it & how it’s all going to go down

Again, if only he used his powers for good :”)

This day of the year is, like, legit the one & only day he plans everything out to a tee

He’s usually a lazy boi™️ but no shortcuts are EVER to be taken on April fools

His fave victims include Masky (it’s funny to see him get so upset), Dark Link (I mean, he’s not gonna pass up an opportunity to embarrass his rival), and, surprisingly, Jeff

He LOVES turning the tables on his prank buddy

Jeff tries to get him back for it, but it’s very difficult to properly fool BEN 👀

Such are the perks of being a super smart internet-lurking ghost, I suppose 🤷‍♀️

Eyeless Jack

Eh, he’s not too keen on the whole thing

He considers himself a bit too mature to deal with that kind of “childish behaviour”

He’s not very fun to prank either, because A) he’s got super fast reflexes, B) he’s got heightened senses, and C) if the others somehow manage to catch him off guard despite that, he’ll just be like “ok cool” and carry on with his day

No Shits Given

Still, knowing how goddamn chaotic the mansion gets during this time of year, more often than not, he tends to make himself sparse

Either he locks himself up in his room, or he sticks around the creeps that also don’t like the tradition, or he leaves and goes,,, wherever he usually goes when he disappears from the mansion sometimes

On the rare occasion that he does stay behind, he might help one of the creeps to get their revenge on someone that pranked them

But only if he’s feeling particular playful that day, which doesn’t happen very often

Honestly, because he takes pity on Slender, if he comes back to the mansion being a mess, he’ll help clean things up

Overall a good boi that deserves some head pats for not turning into a goddamn monkey like the others smh

Masky

Masky is essentially the 2nd tired dad figure that has to deal with “this shit again,” as he puts it

Except, unlike Slender, the others aren’t scared of him, so he might ultimately get the worse brunt of it (even worse than what his boss gets)

Something about the way he reacts just makes for some ✨quality content✨ to the others

And, just because they can, they like to film him

It sucks for Masky, because not only does he get his ass handed to him, but then the others also get blackmail footage of him 😐😐

He hates it lmfaoo

Honestly considers hiding under a rock until the day’s over

But, somehow, they always manage to find him & drag him back out into the fray

This poor manses can’t catch a break

Someone help him please—he’s too tired to deal with this 😔🤘

Hoodie

I know we haven’t gotten to him yet, but Hoodie’s somewhere between Toby & EJ when it comes to the tradition

He’s relatively laid-back & won’t actively go out of his way to fool someone

But, hey, if there’s a prank to be had like right there, who’s he to not go for it?

His pranks tend to be relatively low effort—like a joke or a lie or something that tricks someone into believing something kinda stupid

His victim makes a fool of themselves, everyone has a good laugh, then the joke’s over & people move on

Albeit sometimes, the gag lasts longer than intended

Like that one year he convinced Toby that slugs can communicate telepathically because of all the fungus they eat

And Toby believed it for many months until Slender had to break the news to him 😔😔

Also, somehow?? homeboy’s damn near impossible to prank

Many have tried, all have failed—no one knows how he does it 🤷‍♀️

Ticci Toby

Prank time! Prank time! Prank time!

Boy fucking lives for the day he gets to have fun & mess around with the others

Every year most likely ends up with him getting injured, but hey, nothing new there :/

Unlike BEN & Jeff, he probably won’t turn the mansion upside-down (both figuratively and literally smh) to trick people

He’s more-so in it for the goofs

Like he doesn’t actually wanna humiliate or embarrass anyone too badly, ya know?

He’ll recruit others & form a prank gang because he knows there’s strength in numbers 😌✨

And it’s an unspoken code that those in the prank gang can’t prank each other

So, honestly?

Toby might be the most wholesome April fools-er out of everyone :3

#creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #slenderman #Jeff the killer #Ben drowned #Ticci Toby #eyeless jack #masky #hoodie

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letters-from-eros · 4 years

Note

I know you don't have rules for that already but can I ask for relationship hc's for Chuuya and Dazai with a fem or gender neutral s/o?😳❤

A/N: Am I foaming from the mouth for my first BSD request? Maybe. I hope this is good though. I added in a short part on how they asked you out cause I wanted this to be different and unique from most dating HCs.

Pairing(s): Dazai Osamu, Chuuya Nakahara x GN!Reader

Warnings: Slight mention of suicide in Dazai's, cursing

Form: Headcanon

Also: These ran super duper long I'm so sorry

You managed to cuff the suicidal maniac, huh?

Well done, my friend, well done

It took him so long to ask you out, and even when he did it wasn't planned. In all honesty, he never planned to tell you about his feelings. The excruciating part for him is that he did fall pretty fast, and realized he was falling even faster.

He didn't deny them, that wouldn't make it go away. He knew that. He sat and let it festered, hoping it would just disappear at some point.

Had the mindset of anything he loved he'd lose, y'know? Sad but so.

The way I'd imagine it happening is that you both are either working late at the ADA (with just the two of you there) or just at his place hanging out into all hours of the night.

Both of you are laughing at some dumb joke Dazai made and as the laughter dies out he feels.. Bittersweet. You make him feel genuinely happy, like there's no need to put on any mask or facade. That was not a feeling he had with anyone else.

Once silence fully overtakes you both it slips out of his mouth, purely on accident.

"I love you"

"More than suicide?"

"Y/n I'm serious!"

From that night forward you had the pleasure of being the partner of Dazai Osamu, with his feelings being released in an extremely cliche coming-of-age-movie way.

Okay, onto actually dating Dazai

Still goofy as all hell. Honestly the only thing that has really changed is the he lets you in a lot less hesitantly on small things. Its easier to put cracks in his walls, per se

Unbothered by PDA and will probably make out with you in public and not see why that isn't a thing that should be done or why you wouldn't like it.

(Just tell him if you don't, he'll get over it eventually)

Will kiss you everywhere, doesn't exactly have a favorite place, but where he does end up kissing you the most is your forehead for convenience. He'll kiss your wrist if he's holding your hand, too.

Clingy as all hell, always wants to be touching you in some way and becomes the biggest dramatic bitch when he can't be around you.

Kunikida will actually punt him if he says he'll die if he's away from you for another second. For the tenth time

No more suicide attempts once you two are dating, and doesn't ask for a double suicide with you because he knows it'll upset you quite a bit

He flirts with you like he's trying to get you to date him lmao he will never ease up, especially if it gets you bashful.

Dazai would NOT be dating you if he did not trust you a whole lot, so thats something that is pretty vital to the relationship.

That being said, please be understanding of the pieces of Dazai he keeps locked away to never see the light of day again and trust him just as much as he trust you. Its important especially if you don't want the relationship to be one-sided

Also with the high amount of trust he places in you, he doesn't get jealous easily. I mean he may get pissy that you're not giving him any attention but jealous is never the right word to use

Mf finally washes his fucking clothes once he starts dating you. Doesn't smell like the bottom of the ocean on a regular basis anymore.

Dates are always chill and rarely super extravagant. Park dates are often but Dazai's truly preferred date is snuggling inside, watching a few movies and slipping in and out of naps.

Belladonna is his go-to petname for you, of course, but he may bounce around with other petnames for kicks.

He will start calling you weird shit if you ignore him for to long.

Never raises his voice at you unless its in some joking manner. On the rare occurrence that you two have an argument he would need to get extremely riled up before he resorts to raising his voice. He tries to have patience and usually succeeds.

Dazai gets SO soft and SO loving sometimes, and it can be out of no where or something minuscule could have sparked it. All I know is that its nice and cute 🥰

He's usually pretty vulnerable himself when he gets like that so match his energy, alright? If you don't he might end up a little sour for some short amount of time and be more hesitant to get like that

10/10 Lover. This is by no means an effortless relationship, its a constant battle of figuring out boundaries, running into walls and respecting them. Dating Dazai isn't toxic if you treat him right and when you do? It definitely pays off.

(This got so long. I've had so much pent-up Dazai love and all around BSD love and I finally had an outlet to completely let it out)

HUSBAND. THE LOML

Okay, sorry. But this man is the love of my life, and he will be yours as well.

Took him a while to really figure out his feelings for you, or to better put it, it took him a while to label the feeling he had towards you "love"

But ONCE HE DID mans was practically whipped before you officially started dating omg.

You could notice the shift in attitude when he figured out his feelings. He got nervous, went stiff and blushy all against his will. Maybe a tad bit more snappy.

He'd try to keep his cool and then just eat shit and become a babbling angry mess.

After every encounter and interaction with you he'd end up overthinking all of it and when he catches himself doing that he gets so upset with himself. It's really when he realized that he won't be able to keep his feelings a secret forever.

Definitely started avoiding you when planning on the 🌈perfect🌈 way to ask you out and blamed work if you asked him why he was avoiding you.

Anyway, the way he asks you out was almost as calculated as a proposal.

He asks you to meet him at the port and dress comfortably towards the end of the day

When you get there, Chuuya has a nice place set up for you both. A blanket and a bottle of expensive wine because we all know he's lowkey an alcoholic along with a very nice view of the ocean/port.

Chuuya made sure it didn't radiate too much romantic energy to give his plans away; also, he wasn't that nervous. Once he gets truly determined to do something, he doesn't let something like anxiety get in the way of it. The idea of being rejected was essentially an afterthough

Made an effort to make sure he didn't drink too much and neither did you. He didn't want to take advantage of the possibility of you being drunk by the time he asks you out and he knows he himself has a low tolerance

Once the sun began to set is when he asks. Stutters a little bit towards the beginning but smooths it out.

"Y/n, I uh.. I brought you to tell you that I love you."

"Have you drank too much already, Chuuya?"

"No! I'm completely sober!"

It was overall super cute and unforgettable, just as he planned.

Honestly, being in a relationship with this boy is just 🥰

Spoils you so much. You'll deadass be dripped out head to toe purely in stuff Chuuya has bought you.

Dw, he has an alright sense of fashion

Don't try to discourage him, that'll only get him to buy more stuff.

Chuuya's short and the concept of a size difference doesn't bother him at all, he'll find a way to kiss you regardless lol

On the topic of kissing, his favorite places are your lips and hands

He takes of his gloves whenever he's with you and let me tell you his hands are the softest things ever. Albeit his knuckles are a little calloused sometimes.

If you're anything like me, you'd want his soft hands on you 24/7 and y'know what? Chu would happily oblige.

He isn't like the biggest fan of PDA but certainly isn't against it. He'd rather keep things behind doors as much as he can. Holding hands and small kisses on the cheek are very fine by him.

He isn't like the biggest jealous type? He doesn't become overly irate or anything but certainly doesn't take any pleasure in watching you talk to other guys.

Chuuya does have some form of self restraint when it comes to that. Him getting a lil jealous is one of the only things that'll have him completely make-out with you in public or smth

Chuuya is very snuggly and touchy behind closed doors. He practically becomes Dazai but a lot less goofy

Oh yeah he definitely rants about how much he fucking hates Dazai now n again

Isn't huge on petnames but definitely calls you them every now and again.

Princess, babe and baby are his top few.

Chuuya definitely has a morning voice where it drops 2 octaves and its just 🥰

Never yells at you, its pretty shocking. The only times he's ever raised his voice with you is when its very obvious that he's not genuinely upset with you. Almost for comedic affect because it is angry short boy Chuuya

One may think arguments are often with Chuuya, but they're sort of not. He may be a pretty stubborn individual but he never argues to argue unless its Dazai-

He always works towards and agreement to end the argument as soon as possible. He keeps his cool and will never raise his voice. You can barely call them arguments because of how much he tries to keep his cool.

When he's stressed or had a bad day he gets extremely quiet because he doesn't even want the opportunity to open his mouth and take it out on you. The only words he'll say to you while he's in that state is that he's stress and you didn't do anything wrong just to make sure you're not worried over it.

All and all? Chuuya is the best and there's no way around it. He has his faults but always tries to improve and be his best self for you :)

(I had even more pent-up love for Chuuya and it got even longer, whoops-)

#bungou stray dogs x reader #chuuya x reader #dazai x reader #chuuya nakahara x reader #dazai osamu x reader #dazai headcanons #chuuya headcanons #gn!reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader #bsd headcanons #bsd #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs headcanons #bungou stray dogs headcanons #hopefully thats enough tags. i hope you enjoyed my bsd debut

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fruitcoops · 4 years

Note

Hi hello I would love to know more about this tidbit from your oher fic? “Three months after we moved in together, Remus slept on the couch for a week because he hated the way I left toothpaste on the sink.” “I wasn’t even angry about the toothpaste.” Remus got up to refill Leo’s water glass. “I was scared we were moving too fast and that everything would fall apart.” pretty please with puppy dog eyes?

Anything for you, Beyonce! Hope you enjoy your trip on the angst train >:)

Coops credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for couples arguments, self-isolation, mild anxiety

Day 1

“Oh my god, Sirius.” Remus shoved his toothbrush back in the holder more aggressively than he probably needed to. His hands were shaking, though whether it was from rage or something else, he wasn’t sure.

“What?”

“Really? Again?”

“What?” Sirius asked again. He had the nerve to sound truly bewildered and the bed creaked as he stood up. “What did I do?”

“You left the toothpaste uncapped and it’s all over the sink,” Remus sighed, running his hand down his face. It was too late to fight about this.

Sirius gave him a look. “Re, there’s literally one smudge.” He swiped it away with his thumb. “There. Better?”

“No, it’s not better. I told you I hate it when you do that.”

“Are you okay? You seem…upset.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” he snapped. Sirius recoiled at his tone and he bit back a second retort. “Look, I’ll be downstairs if you need me.”

“What—sweetheart—”

“Don’t call me sweetheart, okay?” Remus grabbed a fresh set of pajama pants and a long-sleeved shirt out of the dresser. He couldn’t handle being surrounded by Sirius’ smell right now. “Just…not tonight.”

Day Two

They ate breakfast silently. Every ping of Sirius’ spoon against his cereal bowl was like nails on a chalkboard as he choked down a slice of toast and all but chugged his coffee. “So…” Sirius started, looking up at him from under his eyelashes. “Do you want to talk about what happened last night?”

“Not really,” Remus muttered. “I’m going to run to Target and get some groceries.”

“In your pajamas?”

Remus went upstairs without a word. He slept on the living room couch again that night and tried desperately not to miss Sirius’ solid warmth next to him. This is good for you both, he repeated again and again and again. Space is good. Space is healthy.

Day Three

Sirius didn’t bring it up again, but he stole quick, worried glances that Remus caught in his periphery whenever they were in the same room together. There was a gentle knock on the living room doorframe and he poked his head in, offering Remus a grilled cheese sandwich that basically broke his heart. “I’m really sorry about the toothpaste,” he said softly when Remus didn’t respond. “Um, I made dinner, but you seemed busy. So. Here.”

“Thanks,” Remus managed. As soon as he heard the bedroom door close upstairs, silent tears began streaking down his face. The sandwich tasted like sawdust. “You need to breathe,” he reminded himself. “If you move too fast it’s going to fall apart. If you can’t exist apart then you won’t be healthy together.”

And yet somehow he was unhappier than he had been in more than three months, even when they were still living in the same house.

Day Four

Remus ran errands. Hung out with Lily in the park. Made lunch and left a brief note next to the crock pot for Sirius to find when he was done working out. Love you, it read. Simple. Normal. Healthy.

His back was beginning to cramp from the too-small couch. His feet were cold every night. Lily’s silent concern played over and over again in his head as he drifted into a fitful sleep.

Day Five

It was getting easier to create distance with Sirius despite the fact that they shared most spaces. He offered quick smiles when they passed each other in the hallway, chaste kisses whenever he left the house, and even scooted over to make room for him on the couch when the Avatar reruns started on Nickelodeon.

“Remus, are you mad at me?” Sirius asked after a period of suffocating silence. Hearing him say his name was strange—his accent curled around it in an unfamiliar way, like he was making a conscious effort not to slip up. Remus squeezed his eyes shut. It was agonizing to be so close to him and yet so far away. They always cuddled on the couch.

“No,” Remus said in a small voice. “No, I’m not mad at you.”

“Is this…are you breaking up with me?” From the soft huff of air that came after it, Remus knew he had been sitting on this for a long time.

“What? No!” He turned, making eye contact for the first time in days. It was brutal and made him feel raw. “No, I love you.”

Sirius’ shoulders folded in slightly and he fidgeted with the edge of the blanket. “Are you coming back to bed soon?”

“I—I don’t know,” Remus forced himself to say. I love you! He wanted to scream. I love you so much it’s scaring me. I miss everything about you, even the toothpaste smudges on the sink and the way you look at me when you find more of my socks scattered around. I miss holding you and racing shopping carts in Target with you. I miss your laugh and your smile and just being near you. “Probably. I’m not sure. I’m sorry.”

“Take your time.” The words sounded like they pained him. “Take all the time you need.”

“This isn’t payback,” Remus said. “Sirius, this is not payback for the time we spent hiding, okay?”

Sirius gave him an astonished look. “How did you…?”

“Because I know you.” He was miserable. So fucking miserable. “I know you, Sirius, and I don’t want to hurt you.”

One question hung unspoken between them. Then why are you staying away?

Day Six

Sirius was gone when he woke up, but a sticky note in his careful handwriting rested on the end table near Remus’ face. He frowned as he sat up—he been too drained to deal with tangled blankets when he went to sleep, but sometime in the night they had been smoothed all the way up to his shoulder and a second one had been added to cover his feet. Remus shoved down the urge to burst into tears and grabbed the note to distract himself.

Remus, it began. Ouch.

Pots and I are taking Harry to the park today, I’ll be back around six. Lily said she wanted to talk with you at some point so keep an eye out for her calls. Thanks for picking up extra pasta at the store.

Love you,

Sirius

He smoothed his thumb over the note, feeling each bump and curl of Sirius’ pencil because his vision was too blurry to make out the words a second, third, fourth time. “This is bullshit,” he said to himself. “This is bullshit!”

When the slight echo of his shout faded out, he set it back on the table and curled up, drawing both blankets tight around himself. “Why am I doing this?”

1. You had sex before you went on a real date

2. You went through a traumatic event and are still working through it

3. You’re so fucking scared of how much you love him

4. You want to spend forever with him because he’s your best friend, too

5. Normal couples date for at least a year before moving in together

6. Normal couples—

“Fuck it.” He shook his head to clear the anxiety list from his brain. He had been reciting it to himself for days as some sort of convoluted justification. “Fuck it. I love him and this is bad for both of us. So what if we’re not a normal couple? What the hell is a normal couple? We’re never going to be normal and I love him, I love him, I…”

The low sobs that resonated in his chest burned in the best way. His breathing was even, but he just couldn’t repress this anymore. “I’m a coward,” he sniffled, sliding further under the heavy blankets. His pajamas only smelled like laundry detergent and regret. “And an idiot.”

The phone rang and he picked it up. “Hey, Lils.”

“Well, you sound like a wreck.”

“I know.”

“What’s going on, Re?”

“I’m an idiot.”

“And?”

“And I’m in love with him.”

“And?”

“I’m done self-flagellating to try and fit the societal standards of a healthy relationship based on heterosexuality.”

“There’s my Remus,” she said. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

“Are you okay? I was worried about you.”

“Better now. I’ll fix this when Sirius gets home.”

“Good. You’re both suffering from this.”

Day Seven

When Remus woke up, it was pitch-black outside. “Oh, fuck,” he whispered to the ceiling, scrubbing at his itchy eyes. The wall clock read 12:06. After another thirty minutes of crying, he had cleaned the whole house top to bottom, went for a run, and then apparently passed out on the couch for five hours.

Fix this. In any other circumstance, Remus would have spent at least an hour fretting over every tiny detail. But this was Sirius. This was about owning the fact that he was happiest with Sirius and that he had unintentionally hurt him by trying to create distance that they didn’t actually need.

With a heavy sigh, he dragged himself up the stairs and knocked softly on the bedroom door. There was a moment of silence, then a sleepy voice. “Re?”

“Hey, baby. Can I come in?”

“Yeah.”

Sirius hadn’t bothered turning on the light, so the room was dark as he slipped in and closed the door behind him. Sudden nervousness washed through him. “I’m sorry.”

There was a rustle as Sirius sat up. “Why did you do that?”

“I thought—” His mouth was so dry. “It’s so stupid.”

“Please tell me.”

“I thought we needed space. I didn’t want space, you didn’t want space, but I was afraid we were moving too fast and that we’d suddenly wake up one morning and hate each other. That everything would crumble because we rushed into everything.”

“Hmmm.”

“Are you mad at me?”

“After day three, yeah. And then I was just worried. You seemed really unhappy and I didn’t know why.” Sirius paused. “Um, I called your mom.”

“What? When?”

“Friday morning. That was what, day…four? I heard you crying downstairs and I was afraid someone had died or something.” His voice wobbled. “She was worried, too, but she said you might just need to work through it.”

“I’m so sorry, Sirius.”

“I know.”

“Can I…?”

“C’mere.” Sirius reached over and lifted the edge of the covers up on Remus’ side—as far as he could tell, they had been left tucked in the whole time. “I love you,” he murmured as Remus curled up.

“I love you so much.” He carefully reached out and brushed their hands together, and Sirius wrapped an arm around him to pull him close. “So much, you have no idea. That was the worst week.”

Sirius’ heartbeat was steady as Remus kissed the top of his head and melted into his warmth. “I capped the toothpaste in the bathroom.”

When Remus laughed, it was a little teary. “I say this with all the love in the world, Sirius, but I couldn’t care less about the goddamn toothpaste. I care about you.”

His hold tightened and Remus squeezed his eyes shut. I know, it said. I’ve got you. I love you. You can stay.

186 notes · View notes

notquitetwilight · 4 years

Text

THE CULLANOS: A TASTE OF BOSTON, PART TWO

The Cullanos continue taking care of business in Boston. Warning: this story contains graphic violence and sexual references (no smut, just truly cursed references). Previous instalment

Esme breathed shakily as she walked hand-in-hand with her husband past brownstone after brownstone. The street was deserted; it was just the two of them and the parked cars that lined their path. Her thoughts seemed to scream louder in the silence as she mentally willed that the daughter they left behind would be safe.

“S’like Brooklyn down here,” Carlisle said absentmindedly, keeping his voice low. When she didn’t answer, he looked at her, suddenly noticing her unease. “What’s the matta, baby?”

“I think…” she trailed off, unsure. She wasn’t used to being nervous. But she couldn’t shake the image of Rosalie’s wide eyes right before she had left her in the car. They were the same shade of blue as Carlisle’s, the type that seemed cold and piercing when narrowed, but inviting enough to swim in when widened. Though she’d never have admitted it, Esme knew she was afraid. And that made her afraid.

“I’m not sure we should’ve brought her.”

He frowned. “Rosie?”

She rolled her eyes. “No, our other child we were recently reunited with. Who else?”

“She wanted to come,” he said, raising a shoulder.

“So? If she said she wanted to do crack, would you let her?”

“Depends on whether or not she’d share,” he grinned.

“Carl, I’m serious,” she said, her voice cracking a little, which surprised both of them.

He squeezed her hand. “She’s a smart girl, Ezzie. She knows the drill.”

“Still, if somethin’ goes wrong—“

“It won’t.”

“If it does, I don’t…” she stopped in her tracks, feeling like she couldn’t take in air as quickly as her body needed her to. She closed her eyes as she tried to level her breathing. “If somethin’ were to happen to her, I don’t know what I’d do. I’d never forgive myself. Or you.”

She opened her eyes to find him looking a little wounded. “I thought this was what you wanted. Her here, with us.”

“It is,” she said, starting to walk again. “But all this is also why we gave her up in the first place, right?”

He groaned quietly. “Not this again.”

That infuriated her. She let go of his hand and made a great effort to keep the volume of her voice low in her response. “I’m sorry, is my fear for our daughter’s safety inconveniencin’ you?”

“I can’t keep doin’ this,” he said with a sigh. “Over and over, I keep tryin’ to make you happy, and over and over, I feel like I’m failin’. Because I don’t know what you want. Because you don’t know what you want.” He spoke so calmly, so matter-of-factly, without a hint of malice. She balked at him.

“What?” was all she managed.

“You want me, but you don’t want me. So I try move on. Twice. When ya do want me, I’m there in a heartbeat. You want our daughter, but you don’t want our daughter, so I give up my chance to be a dad to her. But then you do want her, but only from a distance, so we torture ourselves watchin’ other people raise her. Then you want her, fully want her, so I bring her back to us, and ever since I did you’ve been sayin’ maybe we shoulda left her as she was. I don’t know what else to do. I feel like I can’t make you happy no matta what. Maybe you were right, all those times ya said family life wasn’t for you. Ya seem a lot less happy since we became one.”

She gritted her teeth and glared up at him, ready to risk their cover in screaming at him. Yet her anger dissolved immediately upon seeing his face. He looked…sad. Truly, hopelessly sad, the type that usually only came with grief. Only she was allowed to see him this vulnerable, and only she had seen him wear this same expression just twice before: the day of his mother’s funeral, and the day they gave Rose up.

She had never considered how all of it might have looked to him, how what she said or did could be misinterpreted. She just assumed he knew where her head was at, because she always knew where his was at. But it suddenly occurred to her that she knew everything he thought because he spoke everything he thought to her. He knew her well, better than anyone else did, but he wasn’t a mind-reader. And while she believed herself to be a relatively good communicator, she knew she was nowhere near as good as him.

“There it is,” he muttered, interrupting her thoughts. He came to a halt and nodded to the dark grey brownstone a little ahead of them, the last on the street.

She frowned. “That’s...their house?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s attached to other buildin’s,” she said flatly.

“Guess that’s what silencers are for.”

He started for the Ivanov residence while rooting in one of his pockets, but she pulled at his arm. “Carl.”

He let her grip lead him to face her, but he looked at his feet, kicking the ground.

“Look at me,” she said softly. His head stayed down and his forehead remained creased.

“Baby?” she tried. He raised his head to meet her eyes then, and she couldn’t help but smile with relief. He was usually the one for terms of endearment, so the rare times she used them, she got his full attention.

“I’m not...less happy,” she started, unsure of how to explain herself.

“You don’t sound so sure.”

“I am sure! Give me a chance. I’m much more happy, one hundred per cent. But I’m also much more worried. And maybe that’s what looks bad. Maybe I’m not handlin’ it right, I dunno. But I’m not used to bein’ worried. I’m not used to bein’...scared. And I am, Carl. For the first time in my life, I’m fuckin’ terrified. Almost 24/7.”

The line between his eyebrows deepened. “I don’t get it,” he shook his head the slightest bit. “Why? You’ve never been the anxious type.”

“That’s what I’m tryin’ to say,” she gripped onto his forearms and gently shook them. “I’ve never been scared because I only had myself to worry about. And I didn’t care what happened to me, or what kinda shit I got myself into. The money and the good time was worth it. Everything was carefree and I didn’t wanna be tied down. But it got to the point where I wasn’t...happy anymore. I think that’s where the Charles thing came from. You got married for the first time and I hated it. And it was my own fault, because I said no to you, but it was only when I saw what you had without me that I realised I wanted that, too. So I married that asshole and then that went to shit. Had me kinda believin’ I wasn’t meant to have that family life. And then it was back to square one; you askin’ me to marry you, me sayin’ no, you gettin’ married to someone else and me hatin’ it again.

“But I just continued doin’ what I wanted, not carin’, until that day she walked in on us in the kitchen. I don’t think I’ve ever hated anyone the way I hated her that day. It was like, all of a sudden I realised that even though you were mine, you were officially hers on paper. She was the wife, I was the goomar. And I fuckin’ hated it and I fuckin’ hated her and I wanted it to just be fuckin’ done with already. And then she was dead and you were askin’ me to marry you again and it felt so right to finally fuckin’ say yes. And I think I started to feel a little bit like the stakes were higher after we made it official, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as it is now. Not as bad as it’s been since Rosie came. We worked so hard for her to trust us, for her to want to stay with us. And now the three of us are finally together as a proper family. It might not be a ‘Brady Bunch’ scenario, but it’s us. It’s like, the last piece of the puzzle finally clicked into place, and now I’m waitin’ for it to fall apart. So you’re right, I’ve never been the anxious type. But I never had anything to lose. Now I do — I have everything to lose. And I don’t know what I’d do if I lost it.”

He wiped away a tear she hadn’t noticed rolling down her cheek and pulled her into him. She gasped for breath after rambling for so long. “Why didn’t you say?” he mumbled against her hairline, then kissed the top of her forehead.

“I dunno. Maybe I thought you knew already. Or maybe I didn’t wanna sound stupid.” She sighed and fully leaned into him, her cheek against his chest. This way, she was facing the Ivanov house, and it registered with her that there was the tiniest sliver of light visible through a gap in one window’s heavy curtains.

“That doesn’t sound stupid at all,” he stroked the back of her head. “It’s a relief, actually. I thought maybe you were gettin’ bored of it all. Of us.”

“Never,” she said, tearing her eyes away from the house so she could lift her head to look at him. “You’re my person, forever.”

“And she’s our person, that we made,” he smiled. “Isn’t that fuckin’ crazy, when ya think about it?”

“But isn’t that— doesn’t that make you scared? I’ve seen how much you adore her. Why aren’t you worried, like me?”

“I just...trust in my gut. And my gut says none of us are dyin’ for a long, long time.”

“That’s it?” she asked without snark. She was genuinely fascinated by his complete lack of concern for their safety.

“Yeah. I have faith in us. We’re not dumb, we’re not new to this, we’re good both as individuals and as a team. And like you said, there’s more to lose now, so there’s more to fight for. Think of how unstoppable you were when you didn’t give a shit. Can you imagine anyone bein’ able to stop you now that you do?”

“Guess not,” she said, feeling a smile growing across her face. She was still worried, but she felt much better. There was a lot of sense in what he said. His words did their job in comforting her, as they often did.

“I love you,” she said, pulling at his neck to bring his face down to hers. “You always know the right thing to say.”

She kissed him then, slowly and expressively at first. But she quickly began to lose herself in it, and her fingers found themselves running through his hair. He let out a soft groan before pulling away and grinning at her.

“Later, baby. We have a job to do.” He glanced at his Rolex and his face dropped. “Shit. We’re a lil’ behind schedule. Alice’ll be waitin’.”

She nodded and pointed at the house as the two of them began walking again. “Someone’s up, too.”

He squinted at the window as they both rooted around in their pockets for their earpieces. They stopped a little short of the brownstone as they put them in.

“You ready?” he whispered, taking her hand again and bringing it to his lips to kiss it.

She nodded once more, and the two of them turned on their earpieces.

“About tiiiiiiiiiiiime,” Alice sang the second they were connected. “You’re late. By five minutes!”

“A queen is never late,” Esme said, her speaking volume lower than Carlisle’s whisper had been. “Everyone else is simply early.”

“Did Madame Mafia just quote ‘the Princess Diaries’ to me?” Alice asked with mock shock.

Carlisle tilted his head and raised his brows.

“Rose showed it to me last weekend,” Esme answered defensively. “We were...bondin’.”

He smirked and turned away from her, eyeing up the house in front of them. “Okay Alice, how’re we doin’?”

“Strangely, no guards — not on the property, anyway. That’s not like them at all. I partly wondered if they were hanging around the area and you ran into a few, because you were late, but I guess not since you’re alive and calm. As for the Ivanovs themselves, two are home: Katarina and Garrett. I have eyes everywhere except the bathrooms, so unless the rest of the family and an army of cronies are hiding in showers, this should be pretty easy.”

The words were like music to Esme’s ears. Her shoulders immediately relaxed, and she finally began to feel excited. She beamed at Carlisle, who gave her a knowing smile and mouthed “see?” in return.

“That’s what I like to hear, Al,” he said. “And you’ll be able to shut their camera system down once we’re out?”

“Of course. Once you’re out and alive, it’s gone.”

“Great. So, they’re still up?”

“Unfortunately,” Alice groaned.

“Don’t worry about us Al, that makes it more fun.”

“I wasn’t saying ‘unfortunately’ because I don’t think you can handle them. I was saying ‘unfortunately’ because over the past half hour, I’ve seen some shit. And that’s saying a lot, considering I work for you two.”

Esme and Carlisle exchanged a look, the pair of them frowning.

“What do you mean?” she asked her.

“I mean I want a raise,” Alice grumbled, causing Carlisle to break into another smile.

“Ahh...they’re in a bedroom?”

“That idea, yes. But wrong room. The living room’s where you’re heading for. Second floor. The ground floor is more like an empty hall, kinda like those malls that don’t really start ‘til you go up the escalator. There’s an elevator, but obviously that’ll make noise, so you should take the stairs.”

“That’a girl. Did you see if they’re armed?”

“As far as I can tell, no. There’s a shit tonne of guns and what appear to be Molotov cocktails in the bedrooms, so don’t give them a chance to go running. I can’t see any weapons in the living room. But I mean you guys know, the likelihood that they’ve got something concealed somewhere — either in the room or on them — is 50/50.”

“Yeah, true. Thanks. I guess that’s our cue.”

“Alrighty. Good luck! I’ll be right here in your ears the whole time.”

The pair of them readied their weapons and clinked the tip of their guns together in salute as they always did.

“Ladies first,” he smiled at her, and he let her lead the way.

Back in the car, Rosalie leaned into her headrest after checking her timer for the umpteenth time. She had set it the second the couple disappeared from view and found herself checking it every minute or so since. There was nothing else to do. She didn’t want to get distracted by her phone in case trouble was around. She couldn’t play music, because she neither wanted to attract attention nor miss anything she’d need to hear. All she could do was wait in the silence, and every second that ticked by felt like an hour.

She almost jumped out of her skin when her phone noisily vibrated on the dashboard. She grabbed it in a panic as though it was loud enough to wake the whole street, but once it was in her hand, she simply stared at it. Royce. Of course. She should’ve known her on-again off-again boyfriend would be the only person to ring her at this hour. She let it ring out, then shifted in her seat to make herself comfortable. The second she did, her phone began to vibrate again. With an eye roll, she brought it up to her ear.

She was immediately met with loud sounds that caused her to wince and pull the phone back slightly. A baseline thudded, so she knew he was out, but the sound was too distorted for her to tell if he was at a club or a party.

“Hello?” she asked, beginning to wonder whether the calls had been accidental. A muffled voice finally spoke, though it said nothing comprehensible.

“Royce, is that you? I can’t hear you,” she tried, keeping her voice low. She wasn’t going to up the volume she had maintained just because he called her from a loud place.

“ROSE!” Royce boomed from the other end of the phone, causing her to wince again. “Come...c’mere. M’over...s’funnn.”

The combination of the loud atmosphere, poor connection and slurred words made it difficult to understand.

“Royce, I don’t know what you’re saying. You know I’m not even in New York or Jersey right now, right? Remember I told you?”

“M’over...” he said again before saying something intelligible.

She was losing patience. “You’re drunk again, and I don’t know what you’re saying. I can’t talk right now, okay? I’ve gotta go.”

He started shouting incoherently. The only thing she made out before hanging up on him was the word ‘bitch’.

She inhaled deeply and checked the timer again. They’d been gone seventeen minutes and 48 seconds. Esme had said to leave after the forty minute mark. She shuddered at the idea of having to drive off without them, wondering whether or not she’d be able to do so if that’s what it came to. It was hard to imagine life beyond them now, though they’d only been connected for a little over a year. She stared out the windshield, biting the inside of her cheek, and felt her phone vibrate again.

Huffing, she thrust it up against her ear. “I said I can’t talk!” she hissed.

It was dead silent. There was none of the noise of the previous call. For a split second, she wondered if she had accidentally hung up.

“Rosalie?” asked a clear, deep voice after a beat.

She paused. “Yes?” she said in a small voice.

“Oh, it is you, thank god!” Relief flooded her as she recognised the voice as Emmett’s. “I was a lil’ confused for a second there. Thought maybe I dialled the wrong number.”

“Sorry Emmett. I— I thought you were somebody else.”

“No prahblem, no prahblem.”

“Is everything okay? If you’re calling me because you couldn’t reach the lovebirds, they’re not back yet.”

“No, no,” he said. “I just wanted to check in and say hi while the two ‘a them are gone. Y’know, just makin’ sure you’re holdin’ up okay on your first big job.”

“Thanks,” she said, a little bitterly.

He must’ve picked up on her tone, because there was another pause. “Uh, sorry to bother you.”

“I’m not pissed at you, I’m pissed at them for thinking I need to be checked up on. I told them I’d be fine.”

“Huh? Nobody asked me to. I just wanted to.”

“Oh,” she said awkwardly, but the corners of her mouth tugged up.

“Yeah. It’s just, I remember how scared I was on my first big job.”

“I’m not scared,” she insisted, back to frowning.

“No? Then you’re a braver soul than I am. I was scared shitless.”

“Really? Carlisle never said.”

“Because he doesn’t know,” Emmett laughed. She didn’t know a sound could be so warm. “I held it together pretty well. But when all was done, he dropped me off at the corner of my block, and I waited for his car to disappear before pukin’ my damn guts up all over the sidewalk.”

She was the one laughing then. She leaned her head against the window as a silence fell over them.

“Okay, maybe I am a little worried,” she said quietly. “Time seems to be dragging by. Esme told me to leave if they’re not back within forty minutes. I obviously don’t want to have to even think about doing that.”

“Of course, of course,” he said. “Honestly though, I’m sure she said it as a precaution, and they’ll be back to ya in no time. You haven’t seen your parents in action. Let’s just say I’m glad I work for them, because I’d hate to be against them.”

“Thanks,” she said again, more sincerely this time.

“And it’s okay to be scared. It’s completely normal. The people who are never scared— those are the mad bastahds you gotta watch out for. Because you gotta be batshit crazy to never know fear.”

“Carlisle’s never scared,” she smiled.

“Well, there ya go, see!” Rosalie could hear the smile in his voice, too. “Case in fuckin’ point!”

She found herself laughing again. It came so easily to her when she spoke to him.

“I better get goin’, letcha get back to it.”

“Okay,” she said. “And thanks, Emmett. I think that helped.”

“No prahblem,” he said again.

“Unless Esme and Carlisle did put you up to this, in which case, no it didn’t.”

“I swear’ta gahd, Rosie, neither of them even know. I had to get your number from Alice.”

Rosie. He had picked that up from Carlisle. It was strange how much she’d come to like a nickname she initially detested.

“‘Kay. Well, thanks again.”

“You have my number now, too,” he said, sounding suddenly serious. “I’ll be right here at the other end of the phone, anytime you need me, ahrite?”

“Does that include if in twenty-or-so minutes’ time I have to decide whether or not to leave my long-lost parents for dead?”

“You betcha.”

“Great!”

He laughed. “Take care, Rosie.”

“Bye, Emmett.”

She hung up the call and resisted the urge to check the timer just yet. A new-found calmness had come over her, and she wanted to bask in it a little while longer.

“Is she beating him to death?” Carlisle whispered up at his wife as she reached the top of the stairs to the Ivanov’s second floor. Alice had been right, they ran into no extra bodies on their way in. And though she was several states away, she had disarmed the entrance’s security with ease.

“No,” Alice answered with a sigh before Esme could. “I think that might actually have made for easier viewing.”

“Don’t be such a prude,” Carlisle quietly teased.

“I’ll have you know, this isn’t your average spank session,” Alice scolded.

“Well now I’m curious,” Esme said, straining to listen. “Is this somethin’ I’m gonna wanna take note of?”

“Ugh, knowing you, probably,” came the answer in her ear.

Esme looked back to smirk at Carlisle.

“Damn,” he muttered. “Shoulda brought a pen.”

“I’ll take mental notes,” she promised.

“And if that fails, you can use the notes my therapist will have taken after I’ve word-vomited all this to her while rocking back and forth,” Alice announced.

Carlisle took his place beside Esme at the top of the stairs and slipped an arm around her waist. The long hallway ahead of them was windowless, its red and gold-patterned wallpaper interrupted by the occasional closed door. Still, it was brightly lit by the two massive chandeliers that hung from its high ceiling. To their left was the unit for the elevator. Carlisle waved at the little CCTV camera above it, prompting a laugh from Alice. Behind them was another set of stairs that led to higher floors they wouldn’t see. The Persian carpet that stretched the length of the hall floor would come in handy to muffle their footsteps.

“Up ahead, the second door on the left is the kitchen,” Alice told them. “It’s got a pass-through and an open plan door to the living room, so be careful.”

“‘Kay,” was all Esme dared to respond as Carlisle let her go. She crept forward.

The pair of them silently edged along the wall, the voices from the living room growing louder as they got closer. Esme stopped at the kitchen door and brought her pistol up to her chest. The pair of them concentrated on the voices inside.

“Alright, swap,” Katarina said. “It’s my turn to rest.”

There were two thuds, and then her voice mingled with a man’s as both began chant-like muttering. Esme couldn’t make out what they were saying.

Carlisle tapped her on the shoulder. When she looked at him, he mouthed, “praying?” with a confused frown.

She paused to listen and confirm, then nodded. He was right, though it left her no less confused. The muttering stopped, and there was some shuffling of feet. The sounds of slapping and groaning resumed, but this time they could tell Katarina was the receiver.

She nudged him and put her gun-free hand on the door handle. With his nod of approval, she slowly pushed it down and opened the door at an acute angle.

“You’re all clear here,” Alice told her, but she gave a quick glance around it anyway to get her bearings. The kitchen was reasonably small for such a big house, and it looked as though it had been home to a frat party. Mess, clutter and countless empty bottles of Absolut Vodka littered every surface. The pass-through was a few feet ahead on her left.

Tip-toeing inside, she immediately grabbed her other gun so she had one in each hand. Both of them made their way to the side of the pass-through as Garrett was saying something about Christ. They hunkered down, then crawled under it, and shimmied out of their heavyweight coats as quietly as possible.

Esme was about to rise slightly up when Carlisle touched her arm. “Only shoot if you have to,” he mouthed slowly so she’d get every word.

The two of them rose and peeped through together. Esme had been right; Garrett was sat on a chair with Katarina bent over his legs as he repeatedly slapped her backside. Still, he mumbled about “the Lord” this and “Jesus” that. Esme looked at Carlisle quizzically.

“Feel the hand of God,” Garrett suddenly half-shouted in comparison to his previous volume. “Who has the most lovin’ hand of all, Kate?”

“God, through you,” Katarina answered him.

“What the fuck is this?” Carlisle breathed, just about audible. “It’s like watchin’ Barbie get an exorcism.”

Esme pressed her lips together to contain a laugh, mentally cursing him. With Katarina’s long blonde hair and baby pink Adidas tracksuit, he wasn’t far off the mark.

“It’s called CDD,” Alice informed. “Short for ‘Christian Domestic Discipline’. The whole religion thing stumped me too when I saw them praying, because like, they’re not even the same religion, right? She’s presumably Orthodox and he’s gotta be Catholic. Anyway, I googled ‘pray spanking’ and found that. Apparently it’s a movement that started as like, a ‘women are inferior in Christian marriages and should treat their husbands like God himself’ thing, but naturally, it got turned into a kink.”

The two of them exchanged a look again and sank back down to their hunkers. Carlisle gestured out their route around the corner of the wall they were now up against and through the open plan door. He pointed to her and made a finger gun, then pointed to himself and pulled out a rope from one of his coat pockets. She nodded once and rounded the corner with her guns raised right as Garrett’s head looked in that direction.

“Don’t move,” she warned, one pistol aimed at his head and the other aimed at Katarina’s.

They both froze, his hand mid-air. Esme stalked closer as Carlisle moved behind them.

“Off the chair,” he commanded. “And putcha hands behind your head.”

They did as they were told and knelt on the ground. Carlisle patted Garrett down and began tying him while Esme came to Katarina’s side. The blonde swallowed tightly. When Carlisle was finished with Garrett, he moved onto her.

“Don’t fuckin’ touch her,” Garrett said as he patted, making Esme smile. As if he’d be able to stop them with his hands and feet tied.

“Whadiya take me for?” Carlisle asked. “I don’t hurt women.”

“Mhmm,” Esme agreed, tracing the side of Katarina’s face with the tip of her pistol. “This one’s all mine.”

Garrett helplessly flopped in Esme’s direction from his place on the floor.

“Easy now,” Carlisle said, finishing up with Katarina and moving to crouch down beside him. “I said I wouldn’t hurt your girl, and you repay me by goin’ for mine?”

Garrett stared blankly ahead. Carlisle tilted his chin up with his gun to meet his eyes.

“It wouldn’t be the first time you double-crossed though, would it? There was our Kiev deal, then the small matter of you murderin’ your own pal. Lettin’ his kid grow up without a father. What kinda person does that, huh? Ya know, I might be a lotta things. But I know where my loyalties lie. And I’d never betray a friend. Even people like us have rules, and that’s one of ‘em.”

“You wanna talk about the loyalty of friends?” Katarina piped up, prompting Esme to hold her pistol against her head. “You might want to look closer to your own circle.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Esme asked, her eyes narrowed.

“You haven’t wondered where the others are?” Garrett smiled. “They’re actually in your neck of the woods. Meeting with some of your buddies. Ironic really, isn’t it? You come all the way here hoping to kill Tati, only for her to be in your area.”

Alice gave a “hmm” as Carlisle’s eyes flickered to meet Esme’s, then settled back on Garrett’s face. Neither of them could tell whether or not he was trying to throw them, but both understood not to let him.

“We didn’t come here to kill Tatiana,” Esme said cooly. “Any single one ‘a yous woulda done. Instead we got two. I call that a success.”

“Do you?” Katarina cooed. “I wouldn’t be that confident ‘til all of us are dead. Especially if I had a daughter who didn’t know how to shoot.”

Carlisle felt the colour drain from his face. Esme immediately yanked Katarina down by the hair until her cheek hit the floor, then placed a knee on her back.

“What the fuck does your family know about my daughter?” She growled into her ear. “Tell me everything you know and how you know it.”

“It’s hardly a secret,” Katarina said, the words muffled against yet another Persian rug. “You’ve been paradin’ her — what’s her name, Rose or something? — paradin’ her all around New York and Jersey. Don’t tell me you didn’t think people would notice?”

“I hear she’s real pretty,” Garrett added. “And you know us bunch, we like our blondes.”

With that, Carlisle began relentlessly punching him. Garrett’s groans sounded different to how they had sounded in the hallway. Here, he was getting to know much less loving hands.

Esme pulled at Katarina’s hair again. “Tell me who told you about my daughter.”

“No.”

She shifted so she could better aim for Katarina’s kneecap, then shot it. The blonde let out an agonising scream, which woke Carlisle from his blind rage just long enough to look up and spot a marble urn on the fireplace.

“Tell me who told you about my daughter.”

“Fuck you,” Katarina moaned, writhing in pain.

Carlisle got up and grabbed the urn, dumped whatever ashes were inside into the fire pit, and made his way back to Garrett.

Esme flipped Katarina over and shot her other kneecap. Another ear-piercing scream blocked out the sound of Carlisle beating Garrett with the urn.

“Tell me something. Anything about what or how you know.”

Katarina simply whimpered. Esme pressed her foot against her knee, but the scream that followed was feeble. She would soon pass out from either blood loss or pain.

“You’re not gonna tell me anything?”

Katarina barely shook her head. Esme sighed and shot her between the eyebrows.

Carlisle was sitting still and staring at Garrett when she made her way over to him. “Is he dead?”

He shrugged.

She picked up the urn from the floor and gave Garrett’s body several extra beats to be sure.

“Is now,” Alice said quietly. Neither of them laughed.

Carlisle rubbed at his temple while Esme sat back beside him and leaned her head on his shoulder.

“They know about Rosie,” was all he said.

She nodded.

“Guess there’s no goin’ back now. Even if she wanted to, there’s no way she can go back to the life she had.”

“No,” Esme agreed.

“I get it now,” he mumbled, more to himself than to her.

“Get what?”

“I think...I’m finally worried.”

They sat in silence for a moment. Alice awkwardly cleared her throat.

“Alice, what they said about our friends—” Carlisle started.

“I won’t say anything,” she said before he could finish. They both trusted that. If Alice was a betrayer, they’d already be dead.

“Thanks.”

He closed his eyes for a few seconds before standing up. Esme didn’t like seeing him so uneasy. He was her comforter, so if he needed comforting, things weren’t good. But he did need comforting, and as his person, it was her job to do so.

“Alice, could you mute us for a while?” Esme asked as she got to her feet. “And turn off the living room camera? We need a minute.”

Alice hesitated. “Alright. But watch the time, for Rose’s sake. And I’ll mute you, but don’t mute me in case I need to warn you about unexpected visitors elsewhere in the property.”

“Thanks,” Esme said.

“Okay, I can’t see or hear you now. So if you need my attention, go to another room.”

Esme tugged Carlisle’s arm. “Help me move the bodies out of this room. I want it to be just us.”

He looked at her with confusion, but did as she asked.

Rosalie stared at the numbers on her timer. Forty-eight minutes and fifty-three seconds, and still no sign of her parents. Her free hand drummed at the steering wheel the way her fingers had before they left.

“C’mon, c’mon,” she muttered at the windshield. She felt her eyes start to well up and blinked furiously.

“Fine. An hour,” she promised aloud to no one, in attempt to settle herself. “We’ll hang on ‘til it’s been an hour.”

She glanced back at the timer, but a noise made her look up again. There the pair of them were, running towards her, open coats flapping in the wind. She exhaled with relief and started the engine. The headlights lit them up as she drove forward, giving her a full view of them. Both were covered in blood splatters.

“Thank god,” she cried as each of them swung open a door and hopped in the back.

“Hey, Princess,” Carlisle greeted her as she sped off.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Esme chirped. “Thanks for waitin’. Sorry we’re late.”

Rosalie frowned. Her tone was...strange. In the rearview mirror, she found the two of them staring at each other dreamily. Then, she registered Carlisle’s messed hair, and realised it wasn’t a tough fight that had delayed them.

“You assholes!” she seethed. “Do you have any fucking idea what ran through my mind?! I thought you were dead! I thought I was gonna get myself killed waiting around for two people who’d never come, because they were dead!”

“Sorry,” they said in unison.

“That’s it? You scare me into believing you’re dead and all I get is a simple sorry?”

“You were scared for us?” Esme sounded pleased. Rosalie rolled her eyes.

“You’re right,” Carlisle added. “That was selfish. Worry isn’t a nice feelin’. And a simple sorry isn’t all you get for it. We’ll head down Fifth Ave once we’re home if you like.”

She did like the sound of that, but she didn’t want him to think she could be easily won round. “Fine,” she said with a sigh.

“Oh and Rose?” Esme asked.

“Yeah?”

“We’re teaching you to shoot.”

118 notes · View notes

dialovers-translations · 4 years

Text

Diabolik Lovers GRAND EDITION for Switch ;; More, Blood ー Yuma [After Story]

ー The scene starts in the garden

Yui: ( One year has passed since Yuma-kun and I got married... )

( And now it’s time to harvest the vegetables we’ve been meticulously growing ever since. )

Nn...Just a...little more...!

( And right now, while Yuma-kun is letting me ride on his shoulder, I am in the middle of plucking them... )

( However, there’s just no way Yuma-kun - being the bully he is - would let me harvest them in peace... )

Yuma: Come on, ya gotta extend yer arms some more, Sow!

*Rustle*

Yui: Easy for you to say...!

You’re the one shaking me around...! I can’t get a good grip...!

*Rustle*

Yuma: Aahn? It’s shakin’?

Yui: I-It is...!

Yuma: How so?

Yui: How, you ask...? Kyah!

Yuma: Oi, oi. Don’t want any misunderstandings, do ya?

I’m not the one to blame, ya end up swayin’ from left to right ‘cause you’re too damn heavy.

It’s ‘cause ya haven’t been looking after yer own physique, right? Not my fault.

This is what they’d call ‘ya reap what ya sow’.

Yui: A-Am I that heavy?

( I thought I was around average, so it’s somewhat of a shocker if I actually am on the heavy side... )

Yuma: Aah, so heavy! If I continue havin’ to carry ya like this, Imma bust my shoulder.

Yui: Eeh!? It’s that bad!?

( ...Uu, I seriously have to go on a diet then...! )

Yuma: ーー As if, there’s just no way.

Yui: ...!? You were lying just now!? You meanie!

Yuma: Aah? Who ya callin’ a meanie?

Yui: B-But...! I was about to fall into a depression for real...!

Yuma: Haah? Why? Aah, ‘cause I called ya a fattie?

Haha! That was obviously a joke?

Do I really look like the type of guy who would struggle carryin’ ‘round a skinny chick like ya on my shoulder?

Oi, what’s yer answer? Come on!

*Rustle*

Yui: W-Wah...!

Yuma: Come on, what’s wrong, Sow? I’m askin’ for yer answer, aren’t I?

Yui: L-Like I said! Stop shaking me like that!

Yuma: That’s not an answer to my question. If ya won’t listen to me, guess I’ll have to punish ya then.

*Rustle*

Yui: Kyah! A-Aaaah, it’s dangerous!

Yuma: Hah! What? Pissin’ yer pants or somethin’?

This is kinda fun, makes me want to shake ya ‘round even more...There!

Yui: Wah! I-It’s scary when I’m up high like this!

Yuma: Hm? Scary?

Do ya have a fear of heights or somethin’?

Yui: I-I don’t but...

( T-Thank god...He stopped moving around... )

Yuma: Damn, ya gave me a scare for nothin’...

For one, you’re to blame for not gettin’ on with it.

Come on, don’t be such a slowpoke!

We’re runnin’ out of time! I have a busy schedule!

*Rustle*

Yui: Even if you say that...!

Do you want to let me harvest these vegetables or notーー

Which one is it, honestly?

Yuma: Are ya stupid?

Why do ya think I’m carryin’ ya, if I wouldn’t let ya help me with the harvest?

Ya don’t understand why I’m goin’ out of my way to lift ya into the air like this?

Yui: W-Well...I think it’s so I can pluck the vegetables.

( I want to believe that’s the case...But! )

Yuma: Then get those hands movin’!

Or what? Are ya doin’ this on purpose ‘cause ya wanna get punished?

Yui: That’s not it!

Yuma: Then get on with it! Geez, ya start cryin’ ‘round like a baby just ‘cause of some minor shakin’...

Come on, those ones on top look pretty good, huh? Hurry up and grab them!

*Rustle*

Yui: Ah! Like I said, it’s dangerous!

Yuma: Hehehe! Yer voice is quaverin’, Yui!

Yui: I-I’m gonna fall...!

Besides, if you keep on messing around like this, I don’t think we’ll ever finish the task at hand...!

Yuma: Aahn? You’re gonna start lecturin’ me...?

*Rustle*

Yui: I-It’s not about...lecturing you...! Kyaah!!

Yuma: Idiot. Ya really think I’d drop ya?

Look at that dumb expression on yer face. Who do ya think I am?

No matter what stupid things I may do on a daily basis, I wouldn’t let ya get hurt.

Yui: Yuma-kun...

Yuma: I’m shakin’ ya ‘round ‘cause you’re too damn slow...

In other words, a punishment...Wait, no.

It’s tough love! (1)

Yui: Kyaah!

( I figured he’d stop but Yuma-kun’s really having a blast...! )

( I don’t want this ‘tough love’... )

Yuma: Come on! Pick them already, Sow!

Yui: Kyah...!

( Yuma-kun really always seems to enjoy himself whenever he’s teasing me. )

( But...I won’t lose. )

( If I give in here, we’ll never get anywhere...! )

( I have to...stretch my arm all the way... )

( Okay...! I got it...There! )

*Rustle*

Yui: Kyaah! G-Geez! Yuma-kun! Ah...Watch...out!

Yuma: Haha, you’re makin’ these really funny sounds.

Yui: Say, if you do this, we really won’t get this done, you know?

We have to properly pluck these in time for the harvest festival...

Yuma: Aah? You’re the one who brought that up though?

Yui: T-That’s true but...

( We managed to get this many delicious, ripe vegetables just in time for harvest season. )

( So I brought up the idea of holding a celebration. )

( Speaking of which, I feel like Yuma-kun was never truly on board with it... )

ー A flashback ensues

Yui: You know, these vegetables from our garden really are delicious.

Yuma: They sure are.

Yui: Say, why don’t we do something with these?

Yuma: Haah? What do ya have in mind then?

Yui: Hm...For example...Why don’t we hold a harvest festival like they do abroad?

Yuma: Harvest festival?

Why do we have to do that shit?

Yui: Look, we could turn it into a garden party and have a meal together with everyone outside...

I’m sure the vegetables we eat every day will taste even better than usual.

Yuma: Ya think so?

Yui: Of course! I’m sure it’ll be fun!

Yuma: But we’re eatin’ these veggies every day, right? What’s the point in doin’ this now?

Yui: ( Uu, seems like Yuma-kun isn’t too stoked about my idea... )

But you spent so much time and effort into growing them, so I just wanted to think of a way to enjoy them even more...

Yuma: ...

Yui: Please, Yuma-kun? Let’s harvest a bunch of vegetables and hold a party?

Yuma: ...

Yui: ...No?

Yuma: ...Che. Guess ya leave me with no other choice.

If ya want to do it that badly, I’ll tag along.

Yui: Really!?

Yuma: In return, you’re gonna be the one doin’ most of the work. That’s my condition.

Yui: Hooray! I’m so happy...Thank you, Yuma-kun!

Yuma: Haah...I always go way too easy on ya.

I can’t be like this...Gotta be more strict...

Soon, she’ll play me like a fiddle...!

She may be the chick I fell head over heels for, I’m not gonna let her use me as her loyal lil’ servant...I gotta think of some sort of plan...

Yui: ...

( I managed to convince him somehow, I guess? )

( Okay, I’ll try my best on the preparations for harvest season! )

ー The flashback ends

Yui: ( He gave me green light back then, but it’s Yuma-kun we’re talking about, so he might be sick of it already... )

Yuma: Whatcha spacin’ out for? Come on!

*Rustle*

Yui: Kyaah!?

*Swoosh*

Yuma: Woah there!

Yui: I-It’s dangerous...You just gave me a heart attack...!

Yuma: See? I caught ya so ya wouldn’t fall, didn’t I?

Even if I spook ya a lil’, I would never put ya through pain.

Yui: You big dummy...! I was really scared...!

Yuma: Who ya callin’ a dummy, Sow? Ya can’t trust me or somethin’?

*Rustle*

Yui: Kyah! Y-Yuma-kun...?

Yuma: This is what I do...to cheeky women like ya!

ー Yuma bites her

Yui: ...!

Yuma: Nn...

Yui: Ah...

( Geez, Yuma-kun, he suddenly bit my neck...! )

Yuma: Don’t be fightin’ back...! Nn...

Yui: ...Nn...!

Yuma: Nn...!

Haah...Nn...

...Per usual...Your blood’s...Nn...

The sweetest thing ever...Surpassin’ even Sugar-chan...Nn...

Yui: ...Geez...Oh you...~

Yuma: You’re at fault. For having...such delicious blood.

Haah...It’s hella delicious...Nn...Kuh...!

When I drink yer blood, I feel like I’ll let everythin’ else slide, it’s kinda odd.

I might have seriously fallen head over heels for yer blood...Haha!

Yui: Only my blood...?

Yuma: ...Aahn?

Yui: You only like my blood...? How about me as a person...?

Yuma Fool.

Whatcha soundin’ so miserable for?

Yui: W-Well...

Yuma: Whatcha sayin’ at this point? Ya really are a fool.

Yui: H-How could you!

Yuma: Listen to me. ...Yer blood is definitely delicious.

But if that was the only thing, ya really think I would have gone through the trouble of marryin’ ya?

Yui: Yuma-kun...

Yuma: Che. Geez, I really have to spell everythin’ out for ya, don’t I...?

Or maybe this is enough to satisfy ya? Aah?

Yui: ...!

Yuma: Nn...

*Smooch*

Yui: Nn...!

Yuma: ...Geez...

I...love ya.

Didn’t I say that I’m head over heels for ya?

Yet that’s not enough for ya, huh? You’re so greedy.

Yui: Yuma-kun...

Yuma: Che. You’re makin’ me say all the embarrassin’ shit. ...Fuck.

For now, lemme suck yer blood...!

Yui: K-Kyah...! Hold up, Yuma-kun!

*TIMESKIP*

ー The scene shifts to the shopping mall

Yuma: ...Say, there’s still more stuff to buy...?

Yui: Yeah. There’s still some daily necessities we’re running low on...

Yuma: Ahー Fuck! This damn crowd is drivin’ me mad!

Yui: It’s a holiday, so it’s more crowded than usual, isn’t it?

Yuma: Ya really should have just come by yerself.

Yui: But I can’t carry all of this stuff by myself...

Yuma: Hooh? So ya always intended to bring me along just to carry yer bags, huh?

Yui: I’m pretty sure I was honest about that when I invited you along...

Yuma: Yeah. I tagged along ‘cause I felt like I had no other choice after ya came cryin’ to me like that.

Yui: I-I wasn’t crying...!

( I also asked him because I enjoy going out shopping with Yuma-kun though... )

Yuma: Ya didn’t speak a word of this crowd tho!

Ah-ah, if I had known this, I would have much rather taken a nice nap at home.

Yui: ...

Yuma: ...What? Don’t go quiet on me.

Yui: ...But...I didn’t think you’d dislike it this much...

I’m sorry, Yuma-kun...

Yuma: ...Oi, don’t look like you’re ‘bout to cry.

I don’t hate it that much.

If I did, I wouldn’t have come.

Yui: ...Really!? Thank god...!

Then, can we go look at some clothes after getting the daily necessities?

Yuma: ...Excuse me? Ya sure change yer mood from one second to another...

Yui: Eh?

Yuma: Ya were in tears just now! Where did those go?

Yui: But you said you don’t dislike this, right?

ー She holds onto his arm

*Rustle*

Yui: I’m happy to be able to head out together and shop like this!

Yuma: ...Che. You’re a wicked woman.

Yui: Eh? How so?

Yuma: Oh well, whatever. But only use yer charms on me, ‘kay?

Come on, let’s go!

Yui: Kyah! You walk way too fast!

*TIMESKIP*

Yui: Ah, look! There’s so many delicious-looking fruits...!

Yuma: Ahー? We’re growin’ these at home so we don’t need them, right?

Yui: But there’s ones we’re not growing as well. We should buy different ones every now and then...

Yuma: Like I said, we don’t need them...

Yui: But...

Yuma: Are ya even listenin’!? If there’s a kind ya wanna eat, just tell me!

Yui: Eh?

Yuma: If ya want it, I’ll grow it!

Well, I can’t do it overnight ‘course.

But I’ll make sure they will be ripe and ready to be eaten by next year.

Yui: Yuma-kun...

Yuma: Why are ya in tears again?

Yui: B-Because...!

Yuma: If ya actually start cryin’, I’m leavin’ ya behind, got it?

Yui: Eh? W-Wait! Yuma-kun!

Yuma: Che. Don’t go ‘bout shoutin’ like that!

Azusa: Huh...? Yui-san? And...Yuma as well.

Kou: Seems like the two of you are being lovey-dovey per usual~

Yui: Huh? You guys! What brings you all here? Out shopping?

Kou: Yeah, exactly. But the two of you really are close both at home and outside, huh? It’s almost making me jealous.

Ruki: Don’t stand out too much in public.

Kou: You tell them!

Yui: ...Uu, sorry...

Yuma: The fuck? Ya guys appear out of nowhere and you’re already callin’ us out?

Kou: Don’t you think you two are to blame for flirting out in the open like that?

Yuma: Fuck off! That’s our business, isn’t it?

We’re a married couple and she’s my woman.

I obviously gotta keep her close so some weird fucker doesn’t set his sights on her.

ー Yuma wraps his arm around her

*Rustle*

Yui: Kyah!?

Yuma: Come on, let’s go, Sow!

Yui: Y-Yeah!

*TIMESKIP*

Yui: ...

Yuma: ...

Yui: ...

Yuma: ...What? You’ve been quiet this whole time.

Yui: Yeah...Ruki-kun and the others saw us earlier...

Yuma: Ahn?

Yui: It never bothered me up till then, but I suddenly grew embarrassed.

Yuma: Ah? What do ya mean, embarrassed?

What’s so embarrassin’ ‘bout bein’ seen together with me?

Yui: N-No. That’s not what I meant...

It was the first time they all saw us together outside, so I suddenly grew very self-conscious.

Yuma: You’re the one who clung onto me, right? It’s yer own fault.

Yui: That’s...true but...

Yuma: It’s not like we did somethin’ naughty in front of them, so don’t let it bother ya.

Yui: W-Well of course we didn’t!

( Who would do that in public...!? )

Yuma: Hmm?

Yui: W-What?

Yuma: I see.

Yui: Honestly, what?

Yuma: Next time ya give me that kinda cheeky attitude, I should just knock ya out with a single kiss, huh?

Yui: Eh!?

Yuma: It’s fun to see ya cry ‘bout as well, but I guess I should just do this when I want to shut ya up real quick?

Yui: W-W-Wait, Yuma-kun!

Yuma: ...What?

Yui: Y-You can’t? L-Like...kissing and stuff...Out in public...

Yuma: I won’t if ya behave. Yer fate is in yer own hands!

Yui: Eeh!?

Yuma: Well, ya better be careful!

Yui: ( Uu...! I will... )

*TIMESKIP*

ー The scene shifts to the garden at night

Yuma: ...They still won’t bloom, huh?

Haah...

Honestly...What has gotten into me...?

Why am I puttin’ so much effort into growin’ these...?

Do I blame it on her? Or am I doing it for her...?

Haah...

This doesn’t suit me tho...

...

But she was super happy with them the other time.

And she looked rather pretty when I put it into her hair...

It marked...the first step of our relationship after all.

I guess I can’t do much wrong by tryin’ to please her...

For one, it’s out of character for me to even worry ‘bout something like a wedding anniversary.

I guess this shows that love makes a guy go weak...

...

These roses are different from the ones I grew in memory of my comrades back then...

I grew these with her in mind...

I won’t give up, even if they won’t bloom.

I’ll keep lookin’ after them till they grow beautiful flowers...

...

...Che, I’m really not actin’ like myself...

Makes me laugh...

I can’t let her see me like this.

I hope they’ll bloom in time for the anniversary.

Or rather, I’ll make sure of it!

*TIMESKIP*

ー The scene shifts to the dining hall

Yui: Say, Yuma-kun.

Yuma: Ah?

Yui: Things are gonna get busy today!

Yuma: ...Why?

Yui: Did you forget already? Today is the harvest festival! I have to prepare for the party.

Yuma: Aah, that’s today?

Yui: I told you several times yesterday! How come you’re so out of it?

Is it because...you don’t want to celebrate the harvest festival?

Yuma: ...Not really, honestly.

Yui: ...

( I wonder what’s wrong with him? He’s been like this for a few days... )

Yuma: ...Aahn? Why are ya lookin’ at me with that weird look on yer face?

Got a problem with my behavior or somethin’?

Yui: No, I don’t but...

Ah, right.

Yuma: Ah?

Yui: I’m gonna start cooking now, so you lend me a hand too, okay?

Yuma: A hand?

I told ya that you’re gonna do most of the work for this festival, right?

Yui: Of course, I’ll give it my best shot as well. But it’d be a great help if you could at least assist me a little...

I can’t rely on you for help?

I’m sure you would be such an amazing help though...

Yuma: Che, ya always give me that crap. I don’t mind tho.

Yui: Hooray! Let’s start preparing the food right away then.

I’ll leave setting up the table outside up to you!

Yuma: Roger...

...Geez, first she butters up to ya and then starts orderin’ ya around like a slave...

Yui: ...Hm? Did you say something?

Yuma: No? Nothing?

Yui: Really? Okay then...

Well then, I gotta give it my best shot! I have to make sure it’s extra delicious today!

ー Yui walks to the kitchen

Yuma: Geez...Look at her bein’ all excited.

I shouldn’t have agreed to lettin’ her organize this garden party so easily.

Why do I have to help my own wife prepare food for some other guys?

I fucked up...

Yui: Hm? Did you say something?

Yuma: Nothin’! ...Ya sure have some sharp ears...

Yui: Ah! You were talking bad behind my back just now, weren’t you!?

Yuma: ...I wasn’t! Geez...

Yui: Really?

Yuma: Like I said, have some faith in me.

Yui: ( I do trust him but...He definitely said something just now, didn’t he? )

Yuma: You’re gonna make a real feast, right? Hurry up and get started on the food!

Yui: Yeah! Look forward to it, okay?

*TIMESKIP*

ー The scene shifts to the kitchen

Yui: Phew...Guess this is the best I can do...

Yuma: I’m all done. Woah! Looks good!

Yui: Really? I’m glad! Thank you for helping me, Yuma-kun.

Yuma: Yeah. Should I carry these?

Yui: Yeah. I’d appreciate it if you could take all finished dishes with you.

Yuma: Roger.

ー The scene shifts to the garden

Yuma: Oh? Ya guys are already here?

Azusa: Because it’s already...the designated time...

Kou: Wooow~ M-neko-chan’s homemade cooking looks delicious!

Azusa: I’ve gotten...kinda hungry...

Ruki: The meals she makes aren’t half bad for livestock.

Yuma: Hah! Right?

My Sow is well-trained after all!

Kou: And what are you so proud about...?

Ruki: Good grief, how shameless...

Azusa: You’ve become a total softie when it comes to her, haven’t you, Yuma...?

Yuma: Hah! What’s the problem with bragging ‘bout what belongs to me?

Kou: How many times do I have to tell you to stop subconsciously going into ‘loving husband’ mode!?

Yuma: I’m not doin’ that!

Anyway, what is she up to? She’s still not done?

She really is such a slowpoke...

ー The scene shifts back to the kitchen

Yui: Nn...There we go.

This wraps up the final dish...I guess?

What should I do? I’d love to sprinkle some herbs on top of the meat but...

I don’t think we’re growing any in our own garden?

I’ll go take a look.

ー The scene shifts to the garden

Yui: Hm...?

( There’s an enclosure I haven’t seen before...? )

I wonder what it’s for...?

*SCENE SHIFT*

Yuma: Hm...? Why is she there!?

ー Yuma rushes over to her

Yuma: Oi! Yui!!

Yui: Eh? Kyah...!

*Rustle*

Yuma: What are ya doing here!?

Yui: Hey, you’re hurting me, Yuma-kun!

Yuma: I’m askin’ ya a question!

Yui: I wanted to sprinkle some herbs on top of the meat of the main dish...

Yuma: Herbs?

Yui: Then I found this unfamiliar enclosure...So I was wondering what it could be for...

See, over theーー Ow!

You’re hurting my arm, Yuma-kun!

Yuma: Ya...can’t look at that.

Look away! Geez. I really can’t lower my guard for one second ‘round ya...!

Yui: ( Lower his guard...What does he mean? )

Say, what has gotten into you all of a sudden?

Yuma: Ah? ...Nothin’, really.

That’s just none of yer business.

Yui: W-What...?

I was just curious. Why do you have to get so mad?

Yuma: Fuck off! It’s none of yer damn business! ーー That’s all.

Anyway, stay away from it. Understood?

Yui: Yeah...But you could always tell me...

Yuma: Shut up!

Yuma: Just get goin’ and join those guys already!

All ya have to do is shut yer damn mouth and listen to me!

Yui: I know, I will. You don’t need to shout at me like that...

Yuma: Scram!

Yui: ...!

ー Yui walks away

Yuma: ...Che!

I didn’t think she’d come here...

Fuck!

I started panickin’ and accidentally lashed out at her...!

Yui, she seemed frightened...

Haah...

...Fuck...I don’t want to make her cry or anythin’ tho...

Why can I never be honest...?

*TIMESKIP*

*Cling*

Kou: Nnー! This is deliciousー!

Yuma: Oi, stop chowin’ down ya guys! I’m fuckin’ starvin’ too!

Kou: The same goes for us though? Right, Azusa-kun~?

Azusa: Yeah, I’m hungry too...I came here with an empty stomach because I was looking forward to Yui-san’s cooking...

Ruki: You are all being way too gluttonous. It’s a disgrace...

Yui: There’s still plenty left, so you don’t have to eat that quickly, you know...?

Kou: Really? Then keep it coming!

Azusa: I still have plenty of space in my tummy...

Yui: You’ll have some more as well, Yuma-kun?

Yuma: ...

Yui: ( ...Seems like he’s upset after all. )

( He has never given me the silent treatment like this... )

( I must have done something truly upsetting... )

Yuma: ...

...Haah, I’m goin’ to the restroom.

ー Yuma walks away

Yui: ( So he really is mad at me for what I did... )

( What should I do...? )

Kou: Sayー Aren’t the two of them acting kind of off?

Ruki: They are...

Azusa: It’s odd...

Kou: I wonder what happened?

*TIMESKIP*

Kou: Phew~ I’m stuffed! Thank you for the feast! It was delicious!

Yui: Fufu, I’m glad to hear that. Thank you guys for joining us today as well.

Kou: Yeah!

Yuma: ...

Azusa: The food was extremely delicious.

Yui: Thank you, Azusa-kun.

Ruki: See you.

ー The scene shifts to Yui’s bedroom

Yui: Phew...

( Yuma-kun’s mood remained sour the whole time after that... )

( That was never my intention...It should have been so much more fun of a day... )

( ーー Why did things have to turn out like this? )

( Yuma-kun retreated back into his room right away... )

I feel a little...lonely.

*TIMESKIP*

ー The scene shifts to the living room

Yui: ( A few days have passed since but...Yuma-kun’s mood just won’t improve. )

( He won’t shout at me, but he barely talks to me either. )

( It’s obvious he seems to be avoiding me... )

( What should I do...? )

*Ding dong*

Yui: ( Huh? A visitor...? )

Coming!

ー The scene shifts to the entrance hall

Reinhart: Hello.

Yui: Oh? Reinhart-sensei? Hello.

Reinhart: Hey, it’s been a while.

Yui: What brings you here today?

Reinhart: Yeah, I’ve got a little something to discuss with Ruki-kun.

Yui: I see... Ah, please come in. (2) I’ll go call Ruki-kun right away.

Reinhart: Thank you. Sorry for the trouble.

Yui: It’s nothing...

ー Yuma enters the manor

Yui: Ah, Yuma-kun, welcome back. Reinhart-sensei is visiting us right now...

Yuma: ...Heeh.

Yui: Uhm, I’m going to set some tea so would you care for a cup as well?

Yuma: ...Nah.

Yui: ...Really?

Yuma: Yeah.

ー Yuma leaves

Yui: Ah, I’ll go make the tea then.

Reinhart: Thank you.

Yui: ( ...Yuma-kun’s mood really won’t get better. )

( Furthermore, that attitude...Sensei might think of us weirdly now. )

( Sensei was there to witness our wedding vows, so I wouldn’t want to make him worry. )

( What should I do...? )

ー The scene shifts to the living room

Kou: Ah! Sensei’s actually here! Hello~

Reinhart: Seems like you’re doing well too, Kou-kun. Hello.

I ran into Yuma-kun earlier and...Did something happen between the two of them? The mood seemed somewhat tense.

Ruki: Right...

Kou: It’s been like that for days now. As fellow members of this household, it’s become kind of awkward for us as well, right?

Azusa: ...Exactly...

*TIMESKIP*

Yui: Sorry for the wait.

*Cling*

Reinhart: Ah, thank you.

Yui: You guys can have some as well if you’d like.

*Cling*

Kou: Thank you, M-neko-chan~

Ruki: I shall have a sip then.

Azusa: Thanks...Eve...

Reinhart: Smells wonderful. Is this a herbal tea?

Yui: Ah, yes. It’s made with the herbs we grow in our garden.

Reinhart: Heeh, you’re growing them yourself?

Yui: Rather than alone, I do it together with Yuma-kun.

Reinhart: Right, about the two of you.

Yui: ...Yes?

Reinhart: Things seemed a little awkward. What happened exactly?

Yui: ...Well...

( So he did notice after all... )

( But I’m not sure how to explain this... )

Things aren’t going so well...

Everyone: ...

Reinhart: Well, I’m sure being together every day comes with its up and downs but...

Since you married out of mutual love, I hope the two of you can talk it out soon.

Yui: ...Yes.

Reinhart: You know, I witnessed the two of you getting married, so I can’t help but be a little worried.

I know I might be sticking my nose into someone else’s business by saying this but...Are you okay?

Yui: ( Sensei’s worried about us... )

( I’m sure Ruki-kun and the others are as well... )

Sensei.

Reinhart: Yes?

Yui: I’ll try my best to make up.

So...We’re okay.

Reinhart: ...I see.

However, don’t push yourself, okay? When you feel like you’re at the end of your devices, make sure to rely on the people around you, okay?

Yui: Yes...Thank you very much.

*TIMESKIP*

ー The scene shifts to Yui’s bedroom

Yui: Haah...

( I told everyone we would talk things out but... )

( In the end, we still haven’t had a proper conversation... )

( It’s almost our one-year wedding anniversary, yet things are still awkward between us. )

( What should I do...? )

( I know that I tried to approach something Yuma-kun wants to keep hidden back then. )

( But if I apologize without knowing why he got so upset exactly, he might only grow even more angry with me... )

( I hope the two of us can have a good talk... )

I wonder how we can make up...?

*TIMESKIP*

Yui: ...It’s finally our wedding anniversary...

( I would have liked to have talked things out with Yuma-kun by today... )

He was so very upset back then...

( However, he wouldn’t become aggressive towards me without a reason. )

( There was definitely some sort of reason behind his anger. )

...

I wonder if he has forgotten that it’s our wedding anniversary today?

( Even if he has, this is an important day to me. I do want to talk things out. )

( I have to talk to him...! )

( I don’t want this misunderstanding to last forever...! )

ー The scene shifts to the hallway

Yui: ( I’ll go see him...! )

*Thud*

Yui: ...Kyah!

Yuma: ...Yui?

Yui: Yuma-kun!?

Perfect timing...I was just about to drop by your room.

You see...I want to talk to you and make up...

Yuma: ...The fuck?

Ya really are...!

Yui: Eh...?

Yuma: Che...! Whatever, just follow me for a sec!

*Rustle*

Yui: Kyah!? Y-Yuma-kun? W-Wait...!?

ー Yuma tugs her along as they move to the garden

Yui: ( This is where we fought on the day of the garden party... )

( I’m sure there’s something here which he doesn’t want me to get close to... )

( ...Even though I didn’t know, I should apologize for upsetting him. )

U-Uhm...Yuma-kun...!

Yuma: Yui. Can ya listen to me first?

Yui: Y-Yeah...

Yuma: Ahー... Ya see...

Yui: Mmh.

Yuma: ‘Bout the other day...

Yui: Yeah...

Yuma: ...

Yui: ( Yuma-kun...? )

Yuma: Well, it’s that...

Yui: ...I’m listening?

Yuma: ...I know that much!

Yui: ( I wonder what has gotten into him? Unlike usual, he seems to be having a hard time expressing himself... )

Yuma: Oi, Yui!

Yui: ーー Y-Yes!

Yuma: ...I’m sorry for what happened the other day.

Yui: ...Eh?

Yuma: ‘Eh?’, my ass!

Knowin’ ya, I’m pretty sure that...Ya haven’t looked ‘cause I told ya not to, right?

At the...flowers from the other day.

Yui: Flowers...?

Yuma: So ya really haven’t looked.

Yui: Which flowers are you talking about?

Yuma: I lashed out at ya the other day, right? ‘Cause ya approached this place.

Yui: Yeah.

Yuma: I didn’t actually mean to get that upset.

But ya were suddenly standin’ here, I got completely thrown off.

Then I panicked and took it out on ya. ...I really do feel bad.

Yui: D-Don’t say that...! It was the first time seeing you so mad for me as well...

I figured I must have done something horrible, so I was going to apologize as well.

...I’m sorry too.

Yuma: Idiot, you’ve got nothin’ to say sorry for. ...I won’t suddenly shout at ya like that from here on out.

Yui: Yuma-kun...

Yuma: Take a look. I just wanted to keep the fact I was growin’ these a secret.

Yui: These are...Roses...!

Wah...Amazing! They’ve bloomed beautifully...

Yuma: Back then they hadn’t bloomed yet...So that’s why I panicked.

But I somehow got them to bloom in time for today.

Yui: Eh? In time...?

Yuma: ...Say, Yui. Do ya remember the wedding ceremony we held here one year ago?

Yui: I do. I could never forget.

( Yuma-kun gave me such a wonderful memory back then... )

( I could never forget about such a lovely day... )

Today is a special day to me as well. That’s why I’ve been looking forward to it this whole time.

Yuma: Heeh?

Yui: That’s why I was on my way to meet you, because I definitely wanted to make things up to you today.

That’s when I coincidentally ran into you.

Yuma: I see. Guess ya were lookin’ forward to it in yer own way as well.

Yui: ...? What do you mean?

Yuma: Listen up.

I proposed to ya last year, right?

Yui: Yeah.

Yuma: Back then, I vowed to only ever love ya, forever.

That feeling hasn’t changed to this day.

Yui: Yes...

Yuma: So...

It was a rocky road but, I chose ya and ya chose me.

Yui: Mmh...

Yuma: But I’m not very smooth.

So there’s times where I can’t always treat ya with care.

And I might take things out on ya like the other day.

...But even so.

My feelings towards ya are the only thing which won’t ever change.

...Even after one year, they’re still the same.

Yui: Yuma-kun...

Yuma: If anything...

Rather than changin’, I treasure ya even more than I did back then.

Yui: ...

Yuma: Che, this shit really is embarrassin’...

Yui: Yuma-kun...

( He’s a little awkward, but despite that, he’s still expressing himself... )

Yuma: Well, I do love ya properly.

It’s our anniversary, so I figured I should tell ya that.

Yui: I feel the same way, Yuma-kun.

Yuma: Ah?

Yui: I love you too.

Yuma: ...Whatcha sayin’ all of a sudden?

I know that already!

Yui: Fufu, but you gave me such a wonderful love confession. I want to return the favor as well.

However...I really can’t believe one year has gone by already.

Back then ーー I felt so happy when you made that vow to me.

Yuma: ...I only stated the truth, that’s all.

Yui: But you usually wouldn’t say those things, right?

Yuma: ‘Course not! Why would I have to proclaim my love to ya 24/7?

Yui: Maybe not 24/7, but I still feel happy when you do.

Yuma: Happy, huh?

Yui: Also back then, I was happy to receive the rose you had so carefully grown.

Yuma: That was...

Yui: You gave me the rose you had grown for the special people in your life.

So I felt as if I had become someone special to you as well...

Yuma: ...You...

Say, Yui.

Yui: Yes?

Yuma: I did raise that rose for Boss and the others but...

These are different...

I grew this one from scratch, with ya in mind.

Yui: Me...?

Yuma: Well, it’s still a rose of course. And both roses are special to me in their own right.

...But ya know.

But I wanted to give ya a rose, which was grown for yer sake.

This might just be my own self-satisfaction showin’ again tho.

How do I put it? I wanted to put my ‘feelings’ (3) in there...

So when ya nearly saw them before they bloomed...

I felt as if they wouldn’t properly convey my feelings so...

Yui: I see...

Yuma: ...It’s bullshit, huh? And there was really no point in fightin’ with ya over somethin’ like that.

Yui: It isn’t ridiculous...

( He’s properly conveying to me his thoughts in his own words. )

( Not a single one of those is pointless. )

Yuma: Well, I guess I wanted to make a distinction for myself.

Also, there’s actually one more reason why I grew these roses.

Yui: And that is?

Yuma: ...It’d be too out-of-character so I’m not tellin’ ya.

Yui: Eeh~? You already hinted at it, so I’d love to hear the rest now though...

Yuma: ...Geez, stop lookin’ at me with those puppy eyes (4)! Ya know I’m weak to those suckers!

Yui: Eh? Sorry...

( That wasn’t my intention... )

Yuma: Then, I’ll only say it once.

Yui: Yeah.

Yuma: I put a rose in yer hair last year, remember?

Back then, ya looked a lil’ different than what I expected...

Yui: What did you expect then?

Yuma: ーー For some reason, ya looked hella stunnin’ back then.

So I wanted to put one in there again, I guess...

It’s a really shallow reason. I just wanted to...see ya with a rose in yer hair again.

Yui: Yuma-kun...

Yuma: So!

This rose I grow with ya in mind...

I’ll put it on ya again.

*Rustle*

Yui: W-Wait! Yuma-kun.

Yuma: ...What?

Yui: You worked so hard growing those roses...It’d be a waste.

Yuma: It’s fine. These are for ya.

Yui: But...

Yuma: If ya really think it’s such a waste, we can just grow some new ones again.

Yui: Eh?

Yuma: Next year and the year after all, forever. As long as ya want the roses I grow...

I’ll raise them for ya, year after year.

Right...In that case, I might as well raise 999 roses at some pointーー

Then turn them into a rose bouquet for ya.

Yui: ...Fufu, I doubt I’d be able to carry that in my arms.

( However, I’m not happy just to receive roses... )

( The fact he’s giving me these flowers he grew with me in mind, is what makes me so happy... )

Thank you, Yuma-kun.

Yuma: ...Yeah.

Yuma: Say, Yui.

Stay by my side another year.

Then next year, lemme vow to ya again. That I love ya...

Next year I won’t just stick to one, but grow lots for ya.

*Rustle*

Yuma: Yui, I love ya...

Yuma: Better brace yerself for next year, ‘kay...? Nn...

Yui: ...!

Yuma: Ya will be my woman forever. Understood...?

Yui: Yeah...! We’ve made up now, right...?

Yuma: Yeah...We have.

Yui: If we can make up like this, then perhaps having a fight every once in a while isn’t too bad.

Yuma: Don’t be silly.

I seriously don’t want any fights.

Honestly, I thought I was gonna go fuckin’ bald from thinkin’ of a good way to apologize to ya...

Yui: You had such a hard time deciding? You did?

Yuma: I did! ‘Cause I definitely didn’t want ya to hate me.

Yui: Fufu...I don’t want to quarrel with you either.

Yuma: Good to know ya understand...Nn...

*Smooch*

Yui: Geez...Yuma-kun...Nn...

There’s no end...!

Yuma: Oh right. The harvest festival ya were lookin’ forward to so much kind of ended up being anticlimactic as well.

Yui: Yeah, but everyone enjoyed it...

Yuma: Next year we definitely won’t fight.

Even if we do, we’ll make up right away.

We just have to honestly apologize to each other.

Yui: Yes.

Yuma: So...

Let’s hold an even bigger party next time!

We’ll make so much food, even Kou will be stuffed to the point he can’t take another bite...

Yui: Yeah, we will. I’ll cook even bigger of a feast next time!

Also, want to try inviting someone over? The more, the merrier!

Yuma: Who would ya invite then? We barely have any acquaintances, do we?

Yui: How about Reinhart-sensei? He did seem worried about us after all.

Yuma: Well, he was pretty much our Priest too. I wouldn’t mind inviting him.

Yui: Gosh, Yuma-kun. Don’t put it like that.

Yuma: In that case, I wouldn’t mind addin’ one more into the mix by next year. A family member.

Yui: Eh?

D-Do you mean...!?

Yuma: You’re the one who said the more, the merrier, right?

If that’s what ya wish, I wouldn’t mind helpin’ out a lil’?

Yui: Geez...

( However, that might not be a bad idea... )

( Expand our little family by next year...Invite a bunch of people over... )

( And all have a feast together. )

( I’m sure...it’ll be a blast. )

Yuma: Well, either way, as long as you’re here with me, I’m enjoying myself, and feel happy.

Don’t ya dare forget that. ーー Never.

Yui: ...Yeah!

ーー THE END ーー

Translation notes

(1) In Japanese, the term is 愛の鞭 or ‘ai no muchi’ which literally means ‘the whip of love’.

(2) When inviting someone inside your house, you can use the verb 上がる or ‘agaru’ which literally means ‘to go up’ or ‘to ascend’. Most Japanese houses have a little step at the entrance hall to indicate, hence why they use said verb.

(3) When 想い or ‘omoi’ is written with said particular kanji, it doesn’t just refer to ‘thoughts’, but to ‘feelings’ (often in the romantic sense of the word) as well.

(4) Literally he says she’s looking at him with ‘upturned eyes’.

#diabolik lovers #dialovers #yuma mukami #more blood #diabolik lovers translation #mbyumaafterstory

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