#and I like to think that when things settled down Yuri eventually started to ease back into that behavior

[goldentigerfestival]

something I really love about Yuri's character growth between childhood and teenhood is how... relaxed, openly nurturing, sillier, and happier he became.

I think a lot about how sometimes I feel like Yuri was a bit too harsh with the other kids. like, yes, they did a LOT of dumb things, but I think Yuri's reactive responses, which were understandable annoyance and aggravation at their behavior, could've been better solved with calmness and softer tones. if he had gently nudged the other kids when they all went outside the barrier to be quieter for instance, such as suggesting Jareth simply sing extremely softly (thus being accepting of his feelings and happiness outside the barrier but still warning him/reminding him to be careful), I think the other kids would've been more receptive. I think if he'd been understanding about their excitement and just softly urged them to be happy but quietly, they could've avoided more problems.

and I think that's really noticeable in how Yuri acts as an adult and as a teen. he is softer in his voice - something he started doing as a teen. he's less reactive and more likely to speak softly and understandingly, even at times that he feels he needs to be firm. as a teen, his first reaction to situations that he's not fond of in relation to Flynn, Jareth and Jiri aren't as whiplash emotional. he's more understanding and more likely to stop and think about how to respond. he gets emotional, but he doesn't react in outbursts anymore. by the time he's an adult, it takes a lot to get Yuri angry, and he also cools off very easily.

Jareth especially is a big one. as kids, Yuri used to get snappy at things he did. as a teen, he instead gets quiet. he'll raise some concerns and he won't hide if he's bothered, but he's much calmer about it and more openly worried than he is annoyed. as a kid, Jareth acted out if he was yelled at. they had this sort of back and forth, push and pull relationship sometimes. but if Yuri had been more receptive to Jareth as children, Jareth might not have been so pushy about his responses (or to Flynn in turn).

and of course they were just seven year old kids, so like, of course Yuri didn't really have that logic pipeline, but that's what I love about his progression to his teenage years. by then he does have that ability to make a logical conclusion. when Jareth is upsetting him at dinner, he voices his concerns, but he doesn't snap at him. when he's worried about Jareth's behavior, he's quiet and thinking about it and it's noticed by Flynn, but Yuri doesn't react to it in any way that would put Jareth on the defensive like he did as a child.

I just really love the huge differences in his personality and his reactionary behavior between the child and teen arc. I know I joke about teen Yuri being a perfect little baby angel and the sweetest little guy ever, but I do really think he's at his best and happiest in the teen arc than he is in any Vesperia media that's prior to post game. like, after the game's timeline, I think Yuri is starting to heal from all the emotional damage he's had since his teenage years (that's a whole other post I've already made LOL). I just think that Yuri would be a very different person as an adult if Jiri and Jareth hadn't died and if Flynn hadn't moved away after that insanity. I think if all the chaos hadn't happened in the teen arc that Yuri would have become a very different person based on who he was as a teen.

[glowingbadger]

Now I have to ask for a fic or HCs for that anon who said something about a reader x Yuri x Claude x Sylvain. Dang, that would be so spicy. Speaking of spicy, I would totally die (not really ;) ) for a Sylvain x Felix x Dima x reader fic.

See, the fun thing about a YxCxSxReader poly is that I can absolutely see those three cooperating with each other, at least on the surface lol. You may have your own ideas about whether one of them would be EndGame, but at least at the start, it's a 'gentlemanly' competition between absolute non-gentlemen haha.

This came out as like half fic half headcanons? idfk

Yuri x Claude x Sylvain x AFAB Reader (poly ish) hcs

NSFW 18+

- "So given that we realized you've caught all of our attention Y/N," Claude finishes his explanation with all the casual flippancy of deciding what to eat, "We figured that, rather than pressuring you to make a decision right now, maybe we could all just enjoy things as they are for a bit. Couldn't hurt, right? And hey... if it helps you eventually make up your mind some day, then so much the better."

- The revelation that Yuri, Claude and Sylvain had all had their eyes on you for some time now shook you to your very core. Sure, you had been spending plenty of time with each of them as of late. Sure, they all had their own ways of making your pulse race and your body warm through, but that's just how they were, right? Now to discover that they all admire you- that they all want you- it's near impossible to fully grasp. And now it seems that the three cunning rogues had agreed amongst themselves to give you ample opportunity to experience what they had to offer.

- "In light of this... opportune scenario," Yuri says as he steps toward you with a subtle grin, "I think it's only fair that we take the time to truly express our appreciation for Y/N." he wraps an arm around you waist and glances back at the other two, "Don't you agree, friends?" Your face is burning red, but Claude and Sylvain merely share a glance and a smirk. "What do you think, Y/N?" Sylvain asks, with all of his signature smooth heat just beneath the surface of his tone. You only manage to give a meek nod before Yuri guides you to your bed and the others follow.

- Before long, you're positioned straddling Claude's hips as he props himself up on your pillows and Sylvain kneels behind you. The three had thoroughly enjoyed undressing you and themselves piece by piece, taking their turns to steal fiery kisses and light caresses across your skin. By now, you're near desperate to be filled by any of them- all of them- their teasing words and expert hands have driven you past the point of mere arousal. You need them.

- When you sink down onto Claude's throbbing length, he gives an appreciative groan and you sigh in something like relief. Sylvain's arms wrap around you, and he's hard at work. Two long fingers steadily stroke your clit and the sensitive surrounding nerves, while his other hand cups and strokes your chest. All the while, Claude's hips buck him up into you with a naturally erotic rhythm that's rapidly building the tension at your core.

- Yuri takes a surprisingly passive roll at first, watching the others drive you into a veritable whirlpool of sensation. He kneels beside you on the bed, lazily stroking his cock and occasionally teasing you with sensual, open mouthed kisses. Sylvain's erect member presses against your ass, rubbing along the soft flesh, until Yuri gives a contemplative hum and says, "Sylvain, do you think they can take you and our dear Lord Claude?" The redhead chuckles, his breath hot at the shell of your ear. "I'd love to find out. How about it, Y/N?"

- With your go-ahead, they prep you, gradually opening you up with lubricated fingers as Claude maintains a slow, deep pace into your drooling cunt from below. You cling to him, and he steadies your hips while Sylvain spreads you from behind and carefully eases his tip into your ass. You're panting, your vision blurs, but Sylvain is mercifully patient and starts shallow and gentle for you.

- "Damn," Claude's head leans back and he inhales sharply, "Are you sure you can handle this?" "Ye- Yeah..." you gasp out amidst the mind-numbing sensation of both men's cocks driving into you at once, "I... I want all of you..." You feel Yuri's chuckle beside you more than you hear it. He takes up the briefly abandoned task of teasing your clit while the other two piston into your over-filled holes, and his dexterous fingers have you flooded with a new burning need for release.

- "How greedy..." Yuri muses, pressing lavish kisses and playful bites along your neck, "Do they feel good, Y/N? It must be wonderful, being so full of two lovers at once." You barely manage to make an affirming sound amidst your gasps and moans. You're close- and you can't even verbalize it, but the three men tending to you seem to know. Yuri's expert fingers apply an agonizingly wonderful pressure around your clit, and he whispers, "Go ahead, darling, cum while Claude and Sylvain make a mess of your pretty little holes."

- Your orgasm leaves you utterly boneless and giddy- yet Yuri takes this moment to pursue his own pleasure as well. Sylvain leans against you from behind, his strong body pushing you forward a bit, and Claude supports you from the front. And at last, Yuri positions himself beside Claude in front of you, and guides your head down to his rock hard manhood. It's twitching enticingly, already beaded with precum, and you eagerly take it in your mouth. He groans out his approval as you immediately try to take him as deep as you can, savoring his taste and moaning around his length. He wastes no time in fucking all the way back to your throat, and it's clear that none of the three will be able to keep from cumming for much longer.

- Sylvain cums first- the tight heat of your ass clinging around his cock and the stimulation of fucking you with Claude is too much. He sighs out your name and pushes deeper into you, and that's when you realize he'd been holding back just a bit for your comfort. You gasp, your eyes water, but you don't let yourself falter for your other two lovers as Sylvain shoots an impressive load into you. Claude isn't far behind. Feeling the other man swelling and cumming into you pushes him over the edge rapidly, and he holds you down on his length as he cums deep into your twitching cunt.

- The two are kind enough to continue supporting your body while you continue to suck Yuri off, even as they're collecting themselves. Finally, at long last, you feel his fingers weave into your hair, and one then another harsh, uneven push into your mouth, before he begins to pour his own climax down your throat. You struggle to swallow it all, but you do quite admirably, only coughing a bit when Yuri finally pulls out from between your lips.

- Yuri helps guide you down onto the bed beside Claude, and Sylvain takes a lap to grab a few spare towels for everyone to clean up. All three men shower you with praises for how good you were to them, how well you took all three of their cocks. Before everyone has well and truly settled and collected themselves, Claude places a playful kiss to your lips and assures you that they plan to give you plenty of chances to "mull over any future decision." No need to rush, after all.

[hopeisour4letteredword]

personal furnace, ch8 (final)

Summary: Winter renovations at the inn in Zaphias leave Yuri in need of a warm bunk for the night. Good thing he can always count on his good buddy Flynn.

Read it below or at the link to AO3 in the notes.

He tries to get on with the rest of his day. It's difficult. Flynn doesn't like to think of himself as a coward, but he'd never quite had the courage to spend a lot of time daydreaming about what would happen if Yuri rejected his affections. Now his failure of imagination means he lacks a mental contingency plan to fall back on. He goes through the motions, mostly. Goes to his meetings with Ioder and the Knights' captains and hopefully doesn't make a complete fool of himself. He says all the right things, he thinks. Remembers most of what he wanted to address—his notes help. Goes to train with some of the rookie Knights and tries not to pummel them too hard. Goes back to his room to flip through documents. That one is the worst. He can't focus at all, not sitting in his chair in the room where he managed to drive off the most important person in his life.

Eventually he gives up, disgusted with himself, much earlier in the evening than he usually would. He feels unreasonably exhausted. Surely he shouldn't be. He's slept more soundly over the last week with Yuri than he has in months. There's no reason for him to be so bone-tired. But he's clearly not going to be able to force himself to get anything done, so he might as well call it a night. He's just finished changing into pajamas and is stoking the fire one last time for the night when the knock at the window comes.

Flynn stares at the closed curtains for a long moment in amazement. The poker is clutched, forgotten, in his hand. When the knock comes again, accompanied now by a crabby-sounding, "Flynn!" he tosses it to the side thoughtlessly and half-sprints to shove the curtains aside and open the window. Yuri glowers at him even as he climbs inside. No wonder he's so irritated. He's come without his coat again.

"What kept you? Holy shit, were you actually in bed at a reasonable hour?"

“I hadn't yet—come in, good grief,” Flynn says, somewhat stupidly with Yuri already tumbling into the room and halfway into Flynn’s arms. Flynn grabs a blanket off the bed to wrap around his shoulders haphazardly with one hand and slams the window back closed with the other. “Is Mariam really still insisting that your room isn’t fixed?”

“No,” Yuri says, curtly. He shivers violently even as Flynn adjusts the blanket around him. “It’s fixed. Been fixed for a while, apparently.”

Flynn freezes, surprised. Yuri snorts when Flynn blinks at him in bewilderment. “You know I still have shit I’m supposed to be getting done for Brave Vesperia, right?”

“I—well, yes, but—“

“And I’d really rather have my own damn space to do that, rather than working off a corner of the Commandant’s desk? There’s shit for the Guilds I really shouldn’t be waving around in front of the Knights, y’know.”

“I—“ Flynn’s heart is in his throat. He couldn’t dare to presume—

Yuri presumes for him. He elbows the rest of his way into Flynn’s space, blanket and all, until Flynn is forced to either take Yuri into his arms or fall a stumbling step back.

(He takes Yuri into his arms, of course. Yuri’s still so cold, it practically radiates off him at close quarters. Flynn can’t not share his body heat, it would just be cruel. How could he not warm Yuri up when the option is there?)

“If you want me in your bed,” Yuri says, voice low, “All you had to do was ask. All you ever had to do was ask. You don’t need stupid excuses. Alright?”

“Alright,” Flynn echoes, feeling a bit faint. His hands had settled for a safe, respectful stabilizing grip on Yuri’s elbows, but now he moves them tentatively to Yuri’s hips. Yuri leans into the contact. It feels like Flynn’s brain kickstarts back into action, finally processing the last thirty seconds, and a giddy smile spreads across his face. “Yuri...”

“You’re still in trouble,” Yuri says, stubbornly. The splotchy pink of cold on his cheeks slowly fills out into a deeper, more consistent red blush as Flynn watches. “For letting Mariam fuck around with me.”

“I didn’t—“ Flynn starts to protest, then thinks better of it, setting his weight back on his heels with a sigh. He’s got his hands on Yuri’s hips, an intimacy he wouldn’t have dared try just this morning, and Yuri more or less volunteering to spend more time in his bed. If the consequences of a petty lie are his price for that, so be it. He’ll pay gladly. “Alright. I’m sorry.”

“Should be,” Yuri says. He bullies his way even closer so that he can shove his face into the crook of Flynn’s shoulder, cold nose pressed up against Flynn’s neck. Flynn barely flinches; it’s no worse than all the times Yuri has shoved cold fingers on him as a joke over the years, and this has vastly more appealing side benefits to make up for the slight discomfort. He wraps his arms more solidly behind Yuri’s back. “Haven’t gotten any damn guild work done in a week because I knew if I took the request missives out to look at in the inn’s dining area, the kids’d vanish them as soon as I turned my back.”

“You were no better at their age,” Flynn points out. He strokes once, cautiously, over Yuri’s shoulder blades. When that’s allowed without objection, he starts rubbing gentle circles into Yuri’s back over the blanket. Maybe he can massage some warmth back into him this way. “Worse, probably.”

“Doesn’t mean I want to have to tell Karol I didn’t do the job ‘cause some kid fed the directions to their dog."

“Or your dog.”

“Don’t get me started on Repede. Mariam said he's been sleeping in the fixed room since the third day.”

Flynn bursts into startled laughter, unable to stop himself even when Yuri smacks him lightly on the bicep with annoyance. “Has he really?”

“Yeah, the little shit.”

“Smart dog,” Flynn says, fondly. Yuri rolls his eyes. Flynn can’t see it, but he knows.

“Smarter than either of his masters, apparently.”

“If you come in through the doors, he could join his masters.”

“First of all,” Yuri says, “Still not interested in talking to any other Knights. Second, I don’t know what page you managed to get lost on if you want Repede in here with us while we’re trying to make out.”

Flynn stills. Yuri waits him out for a few beats before he says, anxious and trying to cover it with flippancy, “I mean, unless I’m the one on the wrong page—“

“No,” Flynn blurts out. He hugs Yuri close to him, squeezing probably too tightly in his rush to show conviction. Yuri grumbles out a sound of protest and Flynn loosens his grip. “No, you’re on the right page. Of course. You’re right, I wasn’t thinking. As long as he’s got someplace else to keep warm for the night.”

“Repede always finds his way,” Yuri says, sounding much more at ease now.

“Come on. I’ve kept you waiting long enough, let’s get you under the covers. Do you want a change of pajamas?”

“No,” Yuri says. He shakes off Flynn’s embrace to step back, handing him the blanket before he starts to strip. Is Flynn allowed to openly enjoy this now? Yuri hardly gave him a chance to look away, although he turns pink again when he realizes Flynn is blatantly staring at the skin revealed when he strips out of each layer. “Should be warm enough with just blankets and you, I think. I'd rather sleep in my underwear.”

“You just want to put off doing laundry.”

“I’m not even the one doing the hypothetical pajama laundry. This is your laundry, Mr. I-have-maids-now.”

Flynn watches raptly as Yuri shimmies his pants down to his knees, then yanks his legs out of his boots and pants at the same time, one by one. He grabs the boots and tosses them to the side with the pants still tucked in.

“That seemed like more hassle than just taking them off individually.”

“The way you’re looking at me right now, I’m afraid you’ll eat me alive if I do this in a way normal enough to be even remotely sexy,” Yuri says, prompting heat to rush to Flynn’s own cheeks. “And I’m sorry to disappoint, but I would actually like to be able to feel my limbs when we cross that bridge, so that's not happening tonight.”

“My intentions are pure,” Flynn says, firmly. Yuri has the gall to laugh incredulously as he takes off his socks and throws them the way of his boots. “Oh, stop it, I’ve never gotten to look just for the sake of looking before!”

“I told you, you could’ve looked any time if you just asked.”

“Well,” Flynn says. He could say he didn’t know that at the time, but... he’s not stupid. He had a vague awareness that the way he and Yuri behave with each other was already not, strictly speaking, standard platonic friendship. He doesn’t know how to explain the bizarre, Yuri-induced blind spot in his feelings that has him stunned to find out Yuri reciprocates. That’s love, he supposes. “You weren’t asking either.”

Yuri turns even redder. "How was I supposed to know you were interested?"

"Basic social signals?" Flynn suggests. Now down to his underwear, Yuri begins to shiver again. Flynn tucks the blanket back around his shoulders and gathers him close, letting him huddle against Flynn's warm body. "I don't think I've been terribly subtle."

"You weren't that obvious either," Yuri mutters, ducking down to hide his face against Flynn's shoulder again. Hmm. Flynn disagrees, but he can hardly judge. Apparently there's a corresponding Flynn-induced blind spot in Yuri's feelings. How endearing. Yuri's usually so self-assured. "Are we getting into bed or what? I'm still freezing, here."

"Bed," Flynn agrees. He shuffles toward the bed, pulling Yuri along with him. Yuri follows, almost stepping on Flynn's toes in his insistence to stay close to the warmth of Flynn's body. Flynn regretfully has to let go of Yuri to pull back the covers. Yuri crawls in first, still wrapped snugly in the extra blanket. That's normal enough. What's new, what makes Flynn's heart flutter, is the way he wriggles his arms free and reaches for Flynn. Flynn hurries to slide under the blankets after him, pulling the wool and downy quilts over their shoulders as he half-throws himself into Yuri's arms. Yuri huffs out a quiet laugh. His arms fold around Flynn's back as Flynn shamelessly snuggles in close. His cheeks are still flushed a gentle pink.

"Don't concuss me, moron."

"I was about to ask to kiss you before you were so mean," Flynn says. Yuri's eyes go wide. "Since I believe there was some talk of making out."

"There was also talk of me being able to feel my limbs," Yuri says, but it's softly-spoken and his face drifts closer to Flynn's until their noses bump, foreheads pressed together. "And my fingers are still pretty stiff right now."

"We don't have to do anything but kiss," Flynn says, just as softly. "And not even that if you don't want. But I'd like to, if you're up for it."

In answer, Yuri nudges forward the last bare inch to press his mouth gently to Flynn's. His lips are a little chapped—Flynn will have to see about getting him some beeswax balm, he thinks, distractedly—and they apply but faint, tentative pressure, but it's still the best kiss Flynn has ever participated in, simply by virtue of having come from Yuri.

When Yuri pulls back and tilts his face, adjusting the angle, to lean in again—that, anew, is the best kiss Flynn has ever had.

And so is the next one.

And the next one.

And—

---

Yuri is snoring gently against his throat when Flynn wakes. Technically speaking, this could have easily happened on any other morning this week. But it feels more special, to know Yuri fell asleep like this. That he meant to be in exactly this position and he didn't want to move all night, that he's happy and comfortable like this.

Flynn lays there for a series of long moments, recalling the previous night, preening in the satisfaction of having Yuri voluntarily wound into his embrace, of Yuri returning that embrace. The satisfaction of Yuri, annoyed as all hell with him for allowing meddling in their personal affairs, still coming back to tell Flynn he wanted to be in Flynn's bed as much as Flynn wanted him in Flynn's bed. The satisfaction of all you ever had to do was ask. Flynn wonders, somewhat wistfully, what else he's allowed to ask for. Dare he dream of things even better than Yuri cozy and affectionate in his arms, even better than soft kisses before they fall asleep tangled up in each other?

But Flynn is a man of duty, and he's awake now because of routine, so alas. Time to get up, he thinks, and shifts in preparation to draw back. Then he pauses.

No meetings this morning. No training sessions. He needs to review the budgets for their operations in Tolbyccia before he sees the captains this afternoon, but... that won't take too long. Most of the work he was trying to force himself to focus on yesterday can wait. It isn't urgent.

And Yuri is so warm and comfortable in his arms....

Flynn sets his mind and snuggles back in, kissing the top of Yuri's head. Yuri twitches minutely in his arms and snuffles quietly.

"Mmph?"

"Nothing," Flynn whispers. He strokes along Yuri's bare back. "Go back to sleep."

"Mm," Yuri mumbles. He rouses a little, to Flynn's great disappointment. "You gettin' up?"

"No," Flynn says, still softly. "I'm staying right here."

Yuri hums, pleased. "Good. Too early."

"Rest some more," Flynn says. He kisses the crown of Yuri's head again. Yuri makes another pleased sound. "I'll be here when you wake up."

With Yuri cozy all along his front, Flynn finds himself dozing again too. He'd been too caught off-guard last night to think ahead to the next morning, hadn't bothered to think through the consequences of an impromptu lie-in, so he's snapped back into awareness by the brisk knock at the door that signals Cecelia's entrance. Flynn half-rises in a panic only to be arrested by Yuri's limp weight. Yuri grumbles sleepily, trying to tug him back down to the mattress. Flynn finds himself meeting Cecelia's wide eyes as she freezes in the doorway. The breakfast tray is clutched in her hands so tightly that the wood creaks.

Flynn knows exactly what this tableau must look like—knows that even before he tried to sit up and dislodged some of the quilts, Yuri's shoulders would have been visibly bare above the line of the blankets—and with Yuri burrowed so tightly into Flynn's arms, too—

"Breakfast," Cecelia squeaks. "Sir. Mr. Yuri. I'll—I'll leave it on the desk."

"Thank you," Flynn chokes out, completely mortified. He's not embarrassed of Yuri, but—to have one of the staff actually catch him in bed—

Cecelia curtsies and turns so fast she almost trips over her own feet. The door slams closed behind her.

Yuri snorts.

"Yuri," Flynn hisses, almost hysterically. "If you're awake you could have let go!"

"Punishment," Yuri says, without opening his eyes. He finally succeeds in dragging Flynn back down, and rolls halfway on top of him to snuggle close again. "You're in trouble, remember?"

"I thought that just meant you were cross with me!"

"Think again," Yuri murmurs. It's decidedly more difficult to be angry with him when his mouth touches Flynn's throat on every syllable. Flynn manages nonetheless. "You let me be made a fool of, now you get to be the fool. Prob'ly enough though."

"I—you—don't drag poor Cecelia into that!"

"Cece already thought we were boning," Yuri says, sounding bored. He rolls the rest of the way on top of Flynn's body, the force of his weight pushing a soft grunt out of Flynn. He can take it, but Yuri's still a fully grown man. "That's why she was so offended that you said not to bring breakfast for me, I guess. She thought you were trying to hide our relationship because it was a trust thing. At least that's what Espie said. She overheard me yelling at Mariam and told me Cece asked her for advice about how to show you she was trustworthy."

"Cecelia already thought we were in a relationship?" Flynn demands, baffled. "Why? Because I let you share my room instead of freeze?"

"I'm told it would be less homoerotic if you just put me up in the barracks or some shit."

"I couldn't put you up in the barracks, you hate the barracks. You'd have slept in the cold rather than sleep in the barracks."

"Also you wanted me in your bed," Yuri says, and at least he's not so irritated with Flynn that he doesn't sound satisfied with that. Flynn's heart warms pleasantly at the tone of it. The knowledge that Yuri likes being wanted by him is still fresh enough to give Flynn a frisson of delight.

"Yes, I wanted you in my bed, but that part is definitely homoerotic. I could've made you sleep on the floor for all Cecelia knew."

"I have no control over her rationale. All I knew was that it would be really easy to get you back, so I did. Honestly, you set most of it up yourself."

"...Does this mean Cecelia was also trying to meddle by bringing you breakfast?"

"I don't think so," Yuri says. His expression shifts from sleepy mischief to thoughtfulness. "It sounded like Espie didn't bother to correct her. Cece would have still thought she was showing that she could be chill about me being here."

"Thank the gods," Flynn mutters. He has no idea what he would do with himself if his personal maid had taken it upon herself to interfere with his love life. "Well. You're a terrible brat, but I suppose I forgive you."

"It was no less than you earned," Yuri says, righteously. He might be wrong; Flynn suspects Yuri could come up with much worse than deeply mortifying Flynn as a one-off. If he truly feels that this is enough to punish Flynn for a week of being laughed at behind his back, Flynn should count himself lucky. Yuri yawns and rests his cheek on Flynn's shoulder. "Can we go back to sleep now?"

"You'll be able to fall back asleep alright after all that excitement?"

"Think I'll manage. I'll try, anyway. You?"

"We'll see." Flynn has a fairly regular internal rhythm, after all. He was already a bit surprised to have dozed back off earlier. He's not sure how his body will respond to an attempt to sleep in now that he's had a shot of adrenaline into his veins. He cards his fingers between dark locks of hair. "I can at least stay in the bed a while longer. Keep you nice and warm."

Yuri hums with pleasure again. It vibrates against Flynn's shoulder, making him shiver. "Now you really are my personal furnace."

"And gladly." Flynn kisses him on the forehead. Then he does it again, for good measure. Then again, and again, until Yuri reaches up to slap a hand over his mouth with a grumble of complaint.

"We're trying to sleep."

"Aw," Flynn mumbles, muffled. Yuri tilts his face enough for Flynn to get a glimpse of his expression, which is clearly fighting down sleepy fondness to try to project exasperation. Flynn's heart throbs at the sight.

"More kissing later, sleep now."

"You could sleep through it?"

"I really won't." Yuri removes his hand from Flynn's mouth to press his palm flat to Flynn's chest instead, right over his left breast. "And quit getting excited, your heartbeat is way too fast. We're resting."

"I can't help that."

"Yes, you can. Calm down."

Flynn murmurs some kind of nonsense excuse-apology combination and nudges Yuri to rest his head down again, so that Flynn can tuck his face against his hair. Soft and silky and comforting. Yuri sighs contentedly and nestles down against him.

As ever, the chill of a cold winter's morning threatens from beyond the nest of blankets. Yuri was already hard enough to leave behind as Flynn's own heat source before. Now, with him intentionally cuddled up to Flynn, Flynn loses all motivation for getting up to do other things. Despite his prior concerns, Yuri's right; as soon as Flynn decides to accept his role as pillow instead of showering Yuri with tender affections, he finds himself calming and settling. Yuri's gentle breaths against his throat go slow and even again. Flynn's own breathing steadies in response.

Breakfast will keep, surely. Flynn will just rest his eyes for a moment.

[soybeantree]

pairing: kim junmyeon x reader

genre/warning: fluff, magic!au

word count: 5k+

description: apparently blowing off some steam - one too many times - leads to a one way ticket to servantdom. at least that’s how you viewed the newest link in the perverbial chain called ‘eventual obligations of being a familiar’. turns out it actually doesn’t matter how much you argue the rightness of your life choices to the higher ups. and turns out you don’t mind being attached to a certain kim junmyeon all that much either.

a/n: from the ‘rosemary by moonlight’ universe. not necessary to read that first, but some things may not make complete sense. we’ve been working on fleshing out this universe, so there will be more to come very soon!

The assignment sheet mocks you, promising the end of your freedom. You ball up the paper and throw it in the nearest trash bin. It doesn’t matter though, the damn sheet will show up on your bedside table tomorrow. Once signed a contract is unbreakable. It’s only six months though. You continue to remind yourself as irritation crawls across your skin.

Shoving your hands into your pocket, you head towards the exit but pause when you catch sight of a familiar figure. “Yuri!” You call. The healer turns. Her brows furrow when she sees your raised hand. She returns the wave and stops as you jog up to her. “What are you doing here?” 

“City Council business.” She gestures to the hall she came down. The doors at the end lead to the City Council Chambers.”

“But you’re not on the City Council.

“Only because it’s full of bigoted assholes.” She scoffs as she resumes walking. You fall into step beside her.

“Doesn’t your family head the City Council and make up about half of it?”

“Doesn’t mean their not bigoted assholes. Anyways, what are you doing here?” She reaches for the exit door and holds it open for you. 

The sun glares down at you, causing your eyes to transform. Cat eyes are easier to adjust to the bright light which outweighs the con of seeing everything in black and white. “I was picking up an assignment.”

“What?!” Your shoulders hunch, and you hiss. Yuri laughs and slaps you on the shoulder as she comes up beside you. “Don’t get your whiskers in a twist. I just never thought the day would come when Y/N would tie herself down to a sorcerer.”

“It’s not voluntary.” Your mumbling quirks Yuri’s brow. “I may have started a riot with my neighborhood cats,” you explain, quickly adding, “but I had good reason. This dick wad kid at the end of my street keeps shooting at strays with his pellet gun. I reported him to the neighborhood watch, but they did jack shit. So I took it upon myself to right the wrong.” Yuri nods along approvingly as you head down the steps in front of Town Hall, and you smile. If she or Uko were on the Board of Familiars, your hearing would have gone in your favor. 

“Long story short, the dick wad’s father brought charges against me, and the Board of Familiars thought my rebellious behavior is due to a lack of an authority figure in my life and that I have gone too long without a master. After all, what is a familiar without a master?” You roll your eyes and scoff.

“That’s ridiculous, so you had to sign your entire life away?”

You shake your head as you reach the sidewalk and head toward the nearby bus stop. “Familiar Law may be traditional, but it’s not barbaric. I signed a six month contract, and I’ll have an evaluation at the end. If I’m good, they’ll let me decide when and who my next master is.”

“They chose your master?” You nod. “Who?” She asks as the bus pulls up to the stop. The one question, you had hoped to avoid. You use the excuse of boarding the bus to delay your response, but all too soon, you two are sitting. She stares at you waiting for an answer. 

“Jun- Suho.” You correct yourself. “Why do sorcerers have to take a new name when they gain the title? It’s so stupid. He was Junmyeon all through school, and now that he has the fancy title of Sorcerer, I have to call him Suho.” You blabber on, avoiding her gaze. “It’s not like there are a lot of options in the area.” You huff.

“I know.” Yuri sighs, and you chance a glance at her. She’s staring out the window. You nudge her, but she waves you off. It’s not her fault that her family has only produced one sorcerer in the past two generations, but that argument has grown tiresome.

A mischievous grins tugs at your lips, and you settle into your seat. “Yep, so it was either Suho or Kyungsoo – whatever his sorcerer name is – and I didn’t think you’d like me being his familiar.”

Yuri whips around. “It’s D.O, and why would I care if you were his familiar?” You shrug but continue to grin. She glares, and you crack up. “Are you going to meet up with Suho now? He was at the Town Council meeting.”

“Fuck no. The contract doesn’t start till tomorrow, and I plan to enjoy my last night of freedom. Do you want to join me?” You cock a brow, but she shakes her head.

“Can’t. Chanyeol’s in town, and I promised him I would help him with something. Stop by my house in the morning though if you need a hangover remedy.” She offers as she presses the button for her stop.

“You’re the best.” After a quick grin, she is off, leaving you to your night of revelry.

The revelry should have stopped at 11:59. After all, come midnight, your six months of servitude began, but you had to push your boundaries, had to stay out till dawn drinking and dancing. 

Standing in front of Junmyeon’s townhouse after two hours of sleep and with a stomach threatening to unleash everything you imbibed during the last twelve hours, you question your life choices. With a shrug, you step forward and hammer the door. 

Nothing. No creak as the door swings open on rusty hinges and no smoke billowing from an empty corridor. No faint wail of departed spirits welcoming you to a place of death and despair. You definitely have suggestions for your sorcerer, and with Halloween around the corner, they are desperately needed.

Raising your fist again, you pound out the opening to Beethoven’s 5th symphony. Before you make it too far into the song, the door swings open soundlessly to reveal a sleep disheveled Junmyeon in purple silk pajamas with a matching silk robe. 

“I expected the robe. The pajamas not so much.” You comment as you lower your sunglasses to allow a full examination.

With a huff, Junmyeon jerks his robe closed. “What are you doing here, Kitty?”

Your lips pull back as you hiss at the nickname. Middle schoolers think they’re so clever. But the stupid nickname has stuck with you through high school and beyond. Shoving past Junmyeon, you enter the house. He blusters behind you, but you hear the door click shut soon after. 

“Didn’t you hear?” You ask as you glance around the impeccably groomed foyer. Every vase, frame, and piece of furniture glistens with a fresh coat of polish. “Do you clean all of this yourself or do you have a spell for that?” You turn back to face him, pulling your shades off and tucking them into the top you’d pulled out of your laundry basket that morning. It was the clean laundry basket, but it has been sitting on your bedroom floor for upwards of two weeks.

“Hear what?”

“I’m your Familiar.” You sweep your arms out and pop a hip as you dazzle him with your million-watt smile. 

He stares at you, mouth parted and chest still, for entirely too long. As a Familiar your magic extends beyond the ability to shift and a photographic memory, but not to immobilizing sorcerers. 

“Would you stop being a dick and say something? Listen, I’m not happy about this either. I’m even less happy that the stupid Board of Familiars didn’t give you a heads-up even though this was their brilliant idea. But here I am and here you are, and we’re stuck together for the next six months. We should just be happy that they didn’t insist that I live with you. 

“Now, do you have any ginger tea? My stomach is all kinds of upset, and I didn’t have time to stop by Yuri’s and get her hangover remedy.” You about-face and head towards where you think the kitchen is.

“Other way.”

You about-face again and head in the other direction. The kitchen is as disgusting as the foyer. He has everything in glass jars with labels, but none of them have ginger tea written on them.

“In the cabinet to the right of the microwave.” He directs you as he takes a seat at the counter. 

You swivel the Lazy Susan until you find the jar of ginger tea. “Mugs? Tea kettle?” 

He stands and stomps over to another cabinet to grab a mug. Filling it from the sink, he hands it to you, steam rising above the rim. You cock a brow. He returns the gesture, and you snort grabbing the mug and dropping a tea bag in it. “Look at you warming water without a spell. You really are a sorcerer, aren’t you?” You tease as you wait for your tea to steep.

“I didn’t ask for a Familiar, and I don’t need one.”

“And I didn’t ask for a sorcerer, and I don’t want one. But yet again, here we are?”

“Six months?” You nod. “And you signed a contract?” You nod again. “I didn’t sign.”

“Apparently a request was made by the head of your family. No signature needed when it’s stamped with the family crest.”

Junmyeon sighs, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. “Why is my grandfather like this?”

“We’d all like to know that.” You blow on the tea before taking a tentative sip. The warmth slips through your body easing through your stomach and bringing it to rest. “Did Minseok make this tea blend?” You ask as you take another sip. 

He shakes his head, his cheeks tinging pink. “No, he only works with coffee.”

“You got this from Yuri, didn’t you? How did you swing that?”

“If we are going to be working together for the next six months, we need to set some ground rules.” He sneaks by your question, and you let him because you agree. “Let me shower and change, and then we can go over them.” You nod, sipping at your tea. He starts to walk off but stops and swivels back to face you. “Don’t touch anything.” You roll your eyes, and he narrows his.

“Calm down, Mr. Sensitive. Sorcerers aren’t the only ones who know about the delicate nature of magic.” His lips purse, but whatever retort he has remains unspoken. He walks off, and you shake your head. This is going to be a long six months. 

Strolling out of the kitchen, you follow the scent of magic up to the second story of the townhouse. The door to Junmyeon’s work room is locked, but what good of a Familiar would you be if that stopped you. The door pops open, and the scent of magic overwhelms you. Sneezing, you glance around. The large still at the end draws your attention. Witches simply brew their potions in a cauldron, but sorcerers have to be pretentious and make it seem like their work is more advanced and complicated. 

Passing in front of a mirror, you pause and raise a brow. Surely, Junmyeon knows the mirror is an open dimension portal. Why he would have an open dimension portal is beyond you, but he must have a reason. You stand in front of the mirror, chewing on the inside of your lip. He said not to touch anything, and you had given your word. However, you would be a shitty Familiar if you left the portal open. 

Eyes closed, you breathe in and out, feeling your magic hum through your hair and all the way to your toes. Your bones reform themselves, and your skin shrinks itself as fur sprouts across it. When you open your eyes, the world appears in shades of grey, except for the creatures on the other side of the mirror. They glow a sinister black. Raising a paw, you rest the pads against the cool glass. It ripples at your touch. The creatures stir, and you hiss at them to stay back. Your claws are good for more than catching mice. 

Magic surges through you, and you purr at the sensation. Releasing the magic, you watch as it coats the mirror’s glass. The rippling surface stills, and when you stare at it, only your reflection stares back.

“What are you doing?” Junmyeon’s scream grates on your ears, and you hiss at him. “I told you not to touch anything.”

And I wouldn’t if you weren’t stupid enough to leave an open portal in your work room. Who knows what shit those creatures would have caused in here. Your words are unspoken. They call upon your magic to reach him, and judging by his frown, they did.

“The portal wasn’t open.”

You cough, your throat unable to snort. Wow. Now I understand why your grandfather requested a Familiar for you. 

He bristles, his shoulders rolling back as he draws himself up to his full height which is considerable from where you sit on the floor. “I was doing quite well without one. I am close to a breakthrough on my research, and I will not have you causing me any delays.”

Delays? I’ve been here for less than an hour, and I’ve already saved your research. 

“Will you become human, please? We have a lot to discuss.”

You shrug, and by the time your shoulders settle into place, you are human again. “Better?”

With a nod, he heads to his work table and sits down on one of the stools, indicating you should take the other. 

Stretching, you ease the tightness which always comes from transformation and do as requested. Junmyeon starts talking, but the burbling beakers behind him capture your attention. One’s color shifts from bright blue to dark purple as you watch. Above it, a valve releases a droplet of water in ten seconds intervals. The liquid continues to darken with each drop. 

“I have a feeling that you don’t want that turning black.” You cut Junmyeon off as you point to the beaker. 

He glances over his shoulder and nearly falls off his stool as he rushes to remove the beaker from under the valve. He curses and mutters low to himself as he sloshes the liquid around. A light traces the surface of the glass before disappearing. Junmyeon sets the beaker on the table and scratches the back of his head. His eyes focus on a shaft of light coming through one of the work rooms' high windows. He continues to mutter, and you stand, moving closer to him to catch the vein of his thoughts. But, he senses your presence and steps back, glowering at you.

“What are you doing?” 

“I’m your Familiar. I’m supposed to help you with your magical problems, but I can’t do that if I don’t know what they are.”

“We have not established the rules of our relationship, and I don’t need your help.” He places his hand on the beakers top, muttering a spell. The liquid disappears, and he picks up the empty vessel, carrying it over to a previously unnoticed cauldron. You smile to yourself. Maybe, he’s not as pretentious as you thought. Returning with a bright green liquid circling the base of the beaker, he sets it under the valve and adjusts its speed, increasing the time between drips. 

“What are you working on?” You ask and quickly add. “I’m your Familiar. I should know.”

“We are setting up our ground rules.” He retakes his stool and you plop into yours, propping your head against your palm. The tea calmed your stomach, but using magic while hungover and exhausted is brewing a nasty headache. 

“Fine. Can we make it quick though? I need a nap.” 

“First, you are not to enter my home if I am not present.”

You nod. The movement sends a stab of pain through your head. “Going forward. If I don’t say anything, I agree. Also, even though my eyes are close, I am still listening.”

“Why did you go so hard last night?”

You grunt in response. “Consider it my ‘bachelorette party’. Gotta party hard before-“ You stop when you feel cool finger tips against your temple. Cracking an eye open, you still. Junmyeon’s face is a breath from yours. His eyes, warm as a sunrise, focus on you. His lips, soft and supple, part. His words are a whisper, but your mind fails to process anything he says. Magic flows from his fingertips. The ache in your head eases. 

He steps back, his eyes still upon you. “How does that feel?”

You stare at him, both eyes wide open, and your mouth silent. Your brain has forgotten what words are and how speaking works. 

“Y/N?”

“Better.” The response is a guttural growl. You clear your throat and repeat in your regular voice. 

“Given the current circumstance,” he says as he reclaims his seat. “The second rule is do not show up to my house drunk or hungover.” You nod. “Three, do not touch anything without my permission.” You roll your eyes but motion for him to continue. “Four, do not give advice unless I ask for it.”

“Yeah, that’s not possible.” You smirk at him. “I’m a Familiar. My job is to give unsolicited advice. Like you should try a different type of water to purify that potion.” You point back to the beaker which is once again on its way to black. 

Junmyeon’s head falls back as he groans. Your attention catches on the strong column of his throat. You shake the image out your head. Your close encounter has addled your brain. Junmyeon is an Essem, and you shouldn’t be staring at any part of him.

“I don’t understand.” He growls, and you refocus on the darkening potion. “This water was charged during the full moon and distilled by my cousin. It should work.” He grabs the beaker, vanishing the contents once again. This time though he does not refill it. Instead, he sets it down and pulls a leather journal from a shelf above his work bench. 

“Charged during one full moon or many?” He glances up from his notes, a question in his glance. You sigh. “Water charged during one full moon is fine for scrying, but if you’re trying to purify a potion and make it stronger that shit isn’t gonna work. You need stronger water. What’s the potion and what do you want to accomplish?”

His finger taps against the journal, and his whole face scrunches up. 

With a huff, you stand up and walk towards him. He pulls the book to his chest before you can catch a glimpse of anything. “Really? What do you think I’m going to do? Run off to the Stahns and tell them what you’re working on? They don’t use spies.” You pause, allowing the weighted silence to convey what you are leaving unsaid. “And even if they did. I wouldn’t spy for them. Despite how much I fucking hate the Familiar institution, I do uphold our value of loyalty.”

He lowers his arms. You snatch the journal from him. He makes a noise, but you ignore him as you flip through the pages allowing your magic to commit it all to memory. “Do you really think you can make an invisibility potion last longer?”

“Yes, I think that by purifying a potion, you can increase both potency and longevity. I’m trying to establish the process with an invisibility potion and then expand to other potions.” His shoulders go back and his chest puffs up as he speaks, but his voice quavers revealing a glimpse through the peacocks feathers.

You nod, turning a page. “Why potions? I always thought sorcerers were more interested in spells and rituals.”

“Spells and rituals are fun.” His chest deflates as he rearranges the equipment on his desk. “And you get a lot more prestige from accomplishments with them, but they aren’t that useful for everyday life and people.”

You pause on a page, the scribbles already committed to memory. Junmyeon has the fancy script of a sorcerer, but perhaps not the motivation. “But a long lasting invisibility potion is?” You smirk as you snap the journal closed and hold it out to him. “I feel like that’s only useful for pervy teens and maybe thieves. Which is your market?”

“Neither.” He snatches the book from your hand. “It’s a basic potion, an easy starting point. I don’t intend to hand it out to anybody who asks.”

You shrug but continue to smirk. “Any more rules?”

He shakes his head. “But I reserve the right to additional ones as I see fit.”

“I reserve the right to argue them. I accept the first three, but not the fourth.” You hold out your hand, allowing your magic to fill it. After a moment’s hesitation, he grasps it. His magic meets yours, sealing the agreement. “Alright, now that’s settled, I’ll let you get back to work while I try to figure out your water problem.” He sputters out a response which you ignore as you head out of the room. 

Three weeks in the Essem library leaves you more frustrated than the day you were forced to sign your damn contract. Getting access to the library had been bitch enough. Grandpa Essem had been adamant that no outsider should have access to their family’s knowledge and especially not someone with a photographic memory. When you pointed out to him that he was the one who had registered Junmyeon for a familiar, he had blustered insensible nonsense which you had tuned out. In the end, it took Junmyeon and Kyungsoo vouching for you and a gag spell before he allowed you access.

Not that the library has been any help. The Essem’s have plenty of books about enchantments, spells, rituals, charms, and all other forms of high magic, but something as simple as supercharging water no. Aside from spending the next three years charging the same water during each full moon, you are at a loss, and that would not be practical for Junmyeon’s purposes. 

“You wouldn’t happen to know any aquamentals would you?” You ask Yuri as you spin in her swivel chair. 

“No. You know how rare elemental magic is.” She glances between her notebook and the ritual she has set up on the table. A bowl sits in the middle. She said it was a salve for wounds which would help knit flesh back together if she could empower it properly.

“Yeah.” You sigh, giving yourself another push.

“You’re going to make yourself sick.”

“Well, then it’s a good thing I’m with a healer.” She ignores your comment. “You work with charged water don’t you.”

“I’m not offering any advice that will be used to help an Essem.”

You scowl. “Don’t think of it as helping an Essem. Think of it as helping one of your oldest friends.”

“Who is working with an Essem.”

“Don’t you owe Kyungsoo for something.”

Her hands ball into fists. “Junmyeon is not Kyungsoo.”

“What if I convince Kyungsoo that this counts?” 

“No.” She snaps her notebook closed, ending the conversation.  She closes her eyes and draws upon her magic. You can smell it in the air, a hint of herbs and growing things. Sweat breaks across her forehead, but even with all her effort, it is only a hum compared to the current of Junmyeon’s magic. She places her hands on the table. For a moment, the ritual hums. You hold your breath. The magic fizzles, sputters, and explodes. The contents of the bowl covering the table, Yuri, the ceiling. You manage to stay clear of the blast zone.

Yuri unleashes a string of curses and nearly flips the table before collapsing back in her chair and banging her head on the table. “This should not be so hard.” She moans.

 As you fumble for something to say, the workshop door opens. “Uko.” You breathe a sigh of relief. She has always been better at cheering Yuri up. She also believes that magical knowledge should be accessible by all. “Really quick before you help Yuri, what’s the best way to charge water? And don’t say moonlight because I’ve tried that and it’s not powerful enough.”

“Which crystals have you used?” She asks as the door closes behind her.

“Doesn’t matter. None of them could give the water a high enough charge.” You wheel towards her, grabbing onto her hand and peering up at her with the softest kitty eyes you can muster. “Please you’ve read so much.”

“You know you look creepy not cute when you only transform your eyes.” She taps your forehead before walking to Yuri. She brushes against you, swiveling you to face them both. Yuri is continuing to bang her head. 

“Stop it.” She commands. Yuri drops her head with a final thud.

“You still haven’t answered my question.” You whine.

Uko shakes her head as she glances between the two of you. “If crystal and moonlight isn’t enough then you would have to steep it with an object of pure magic.” 

“Where the fuc-” But your brain answers the question before you can finish. You’re an idiot. A straight idiot. “Thank you, Uko. You’re the best.” You jump out of the chair and wrap the girl in a quick hug. “Also, Yuri, I’m pretty certain Kyungsoo would help you with your ritual if you asked.” She lunges at you, but you dart out of her reach, laughing as you head for the door. 

A week later, you skip into Junmyeon’s workroom, positively purring. If your idea was successful which you know it will be, you will see the results today. As you cross the door’s threshold, your footsteps falter. Junmyeon stands at his work table with his back towards you. Red tinges his magic, leaving the taste of sulfur on your tongue. “Suho?”

“Kitten,” the word is a low growl. Not Kitty, Kitten. Anger or, perhaps, fear should explain the surge of blood through your system, but it takes second place. An unwanted and unwarranted emotion causes warmth to travel from cheeks to toes. You have been spending way too much time with Junmyeon. 

“I have a name.” You spit back, calling on your anger.

Junmyeon’s hands clench on his work table. “Where did you get the water?”

Fear rises and mingles with your anger. Neither produces an answer though. The words remain locked within your throat. 

As he turns to face you fear overwhelms every emotion. You had misinterpreted the red. Rather than anger; fear has mixed with his magic. Fear for you if the Council finds out? Fear for himself. Regardless, his fear frightens you. “From the Lake.” He knows which lake. He knew before he asked. 

“Why?” His voice breaks on the question and brings your head low.

“We were out of options.” You whisper. “There are no spells for charging water, we don’t know any aquamentals, and relying on the full moon would have taken too long. The Lake has been steeping for centuries.”

“Steeping dark magic.”

You scoff at that. “Magic is neither dark nor light. It’s magic. We are dark and light and use magic to suit our purposes.”

He presses his lips together until they are a thin line across his face. You swallow the rest of your argument. In the current conversation, it is irrelevant. Junmyeon knows it too.

“It is forbidden to go to the Lake or take its water.”

“Only because the Council is full of bigoted assholes.” You borrow Yuri’s description. “Just because they think they know everything doesn’t mean they do. The spells placed on the Lake are older and more powerful than anything the sorcerers of today can conjure. The Stahns may be diminished in power now, but they were at the height of their power when they sealed away the Paen’s sorceress. Taking a beaker of water isn’t going to do anything to those spells. Short of draining the lake of all its water, I don’t think there is anything we could do today to affect those spells.”

“Regardless, it is the law, and you broke it.” His fist pounds on the table behind him, shaking the still. The invisibility potion, clear with only a hint of green, ripples beside his fist.

“Are you-“ The question sticks in your throat like a hairball. You cough. “Then be a good little Essem and turn me in.” You call on the remnants of your anger and force the fear out.

“No.” Your eyes snap to his. You were ready for the Council to come storming in and bind your magic for the rest of your life.

“No?”

“No.” He leans against the table and folds his arms across his chest. “I should because that was stupid and reckless.” He sighs and shakes his head. “But you are my Familiar. You acted to help me. More importantly though.” He holds your gaze, offering a glimpse of the deepest depths of his soul. “You are my friend, and I trust you.” 

You run your tongue across your lips, suddenly parched. Friend? You have known Junmyeon since kindergarten. You have been his line buddy, his teammate, his lab partner, but he has always been an Essem. A bigoted asshole and the enemy. You nod. 

“Thank you, friend.” You smile at the odd taste of the word. He returns the smile. “Do we go back to work now?”

“I’m adding another rule.” Pushing himself off the bench, he comes to stand before you and extends a hand. “Please consult me before you break any laws.” With a chuckle, you reach for his hand, but pull back and cock a brow. His face furrows as you tuck your hand behind your back. 

“Before I agree I have a rule of my own.” He sighs and crosses his arms, nodding for you to continue. “Don’t call me Kitten again unless you mean it.”

“What do you mean ‘mean it’?”

“You’ll know what I mean if you mean it.” You purr. 

A flush creeps up his neck, but he clears his throat and shakes it off. “Fine.” He offers his hand again. This time, you take it and let your joined magic rush through you. 

[dovechim]

sowing a sapling [2/2] (m)

cr

❀ COWRITTEN WITH @jimlingss​ please send her some nice messages!!!! she deserves the world (.❛ ᴗ ❛.)

❀ Summary: What no one told you about ‘Happily Ever After’s: the next day, you’ll still have to wake up and go about your life as per normal, because life isn’t a fairytale. You thought you had the rest of your life figured out: settling down happily with Jimin, ruling over all of Hogwarts with an iron fist as the Potions Master, and maybe, in the very distant future, starting a family of your own. But life, as usual, decides to throw a wrench in your plans. With a baby on the way and your husband insistently refusing all attempts at initiating sex, the arrival of a gorgeous new student teacher spells disaster for your marriage.

If getting married to Park Jimin was the happiest day of your life, what does it say about the rest of your life?

❀ Warnings: Pregnancy, thigh riding, dry humping, male/female oral sex, fingering, pregnancy sex, mentions of pregnancy related symptoms, lactation, heavy mentions of cheating/infidelity, usage of produce in masturbation, intense jealousy and insecurity.

❀ 23.2k 

❀ please read part 1 first! this is a sequel to: A Serpent’s Flower 01| 02 

In ten weeks, you’ll be birthing out your precious fungus, aka Jimin’s beautiful sapling, into this horrible world. But in five weeks, you’ll officially be on maternity leave. It’s not exactly ideal to be in labour at Hogwarts, as much as Jeongguk would absolutely love to have you birth the ‘inter-house harmony’ child here.

Luckily, a lot of your anxieties on your career has been eased. The Headmaster has ensured that you and Jimin will have your jobs whenever you chose to return considering you’re valuable assets to Hogwarts. It’s a relief to hear and he already mentioned that he found Jimin’s replacement with Hoseok taking up the helm of Head of Hufflepuff, and an experienced professor will be hired for Herbology. For you, Yuri will become the temporary Head of Slytherin, but Jeongguk has hired someone brand new for potions, a complete outsider without any experience.

In the past, before you were hired, there have apparently been many incidences in regards to potions, things that include having to evacuate the entire castle, accidentally blowing up the classroom, setting students’ hair on fire. You’ll attest that the Hogwarts records aren’t so pretty when it comes to potions, so it’s understandable Jeongguk wants to hire someone brand-spanking new with a fresh approach and who’s not stubborn in their traditional methods.

You’ll admit after two years, he’s starting to get the hang of this whole Headmaster thing.

Everything is perfectly set for you to go on maternity leave and enjoy the rest of your pregnancy before welcoming your baby to the world. But Jeongguk has made one special request (more like he dramatically dropped on his knees to beg you) — to prevent any mishaps, he’s asked you to take the new-hire under your wing as a student-teacher for a month before you leave, just to get her used to things and show her the ropes.

While you’ve never trained someone to do your job before, Jeongguk’s request is reasonable, so it doesn’t take much for you to agree.

And here you are, summoned by Jeongguk during your free-period. When you step inside his office, you immediately notice that there is already someone seated in one of the guest chairs.

Headmaster Jeon rises to greet you, and the newcomer follows suit. She stands, twirling around on her toes, causing her blue skirt and white blouse to ruffle. A blazing smile spreads into her cheeks, rosy lipstick-stained lips tugging.

Time stops. Your breath is stolen away. You’ve been star-struck.

This wasn’t even the reaction you had when you met Jimin. Frankly, you thought nothing of him. Maybe you’ve been so sexually deprived lately, but you swear as you look at her, you wet yourself a little. She is absolutely gorgeous. Even then it’s an understatement.

She is a petite, young woman with delicate features, reminding you of a doll. Her shoulder length chestnut coloured hair is glossy in the candlelight. Her rounded eyes glistening, eyes crinkled slightly. Her skin is so bright and luminous, and her smile absolutely charming as she grins at the sight of you, stepping forward to offer her hand in a handshake.

“Professor _____, this is Ms Ryujin. She graduated from the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, and she is currently pursuing further studies in Potions.”

Beauxbatons. Of course. That’s why she is so utterly beautiful. Next to her you feel like a troll.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Professor ______,” her voice is a light tinkle that dances on the wind, all too soft-spoken. “I am such a fan of yours. I’ve read all your papers and all the books you published! I especially used your dissertation on the things that can go wrong with Amortentia in my own research paper. It’s such an honour to finally meet you! And to be asked to substitute for you…it’s an absolute honour! I don’t know how I’ll ever fill your shoes.”

Her enthusiasm is a stark contrast to your gloominess. You muster up a smile for her as you shake her hand. “Um, wow, thank you…I guess.”

“And congratulations on the pregnancy! You look absolutely gorgeous. I hope I’ll look half as beautiful as you do if I ever decide to have children!”

Now you know she’s lying through her teeth. There’s no way you are beautiful right now. You have dark circles from tossing and turning in bed all night because of your back ache, a few spots on your face here and there due to your overactive hormone levels, and you are as big as a whale. Your bump is visible even from a mile away in these robes, so you just look like a big fat lump waddling around.

But the worst part is that you can’t even sense her disingenuity from her voice. She seems all too sincere and it’s overwhelming. Your smile is tense as you glance at Headmaster Jeon for any input he might have. And he’s smiling, eyes slightly glazed over, looking prouder than ever.

Of course. If you were starstruck, then everyone else is sure to be bewitched by her beauty. “I think you’ll fit right into Hogwarts.”

“I hope so.” She fiddles with her fingers, aura too powerful in femininity. She is fragile, graceful, and you feel less like a woman standing in front of her. “I’m a bit nervous.”

“Don’t be.” Jeongguk is grinning from ear to ear; this is the happiest you’ve seen him since he became Headmaster. Usually he’s always walking around with a stressed out frown or looking as if he’s about to burst into tears. “Professor ______ will help you get used to things. You’ll do great.”

Ryujin shifts to you with sparkling irises. “I’ll be in your care then, Professor ______.”

You take a deep breath. It’s not like you to be envious of someone else and she’s innocent. She hasn’t done anything wrong, but be more than warm towards you. “You’ll do fine. It’s not that bad, trust me, and you don’t have to call me by professor since we’re colleagues now.”

She excitedly nods. “Then….thank you, ______.”

You return her meek smile. “Have you gotten a look around the castle yet?”

“Only a brief glance while I was making my way here.”

“I’ll show you then.” Your lips pull and she nods, picking up her suitcase.

“You’ll be staying in a room near the Potions classroom for easy access,” Jeongguk says. “You’ll probably find it while you’re on your tour. Most of the paperwork is done here as well, but if there’s anything you need then feel free to drop by.”

“Okay, thank you.”

You show her around, to the Great Hall down to the dungeons. The corridors are twisting and easy to get lost in, the maps not that much help either, but you try your best to show her which classroom is which and how the towers connect to different places. She drops off her suitcase in her room too, eager to get settled down later. But as you do your tour, she attracts a parade of students from afar.

You’re no longer the exhibit for people to gawk at. Now everyone’s attention is directed elsewhere as well as a sea of murmurs that ripple on how beautiful she is.

As you waddle through the halls as quickly as your swollen feet can allow, you’re eventually stopped by a first year student. “Um, excuse me.” The red on her robes show she’s a Gryffindor, paired with the way she’s brave enough to come up to you. But she’s not looking at you at all. Her eyes are pinpointed onto the woman beside you. “Are you the new Potions professor?”

Ryujin grins, leaning down and meeting the child at eye-level. “Yes, I am. Are you one of my students?”

“Yes!” The child grins, hopping up and down.

“Nice to meet you then.” Your student-teacher shakes the first year’s hands, both exchanging soft smiles.

“Joy, don’t you have somewhere to be?” you interrupt their little exchange with your hands on your hips and your eyes narrowed. “Why are you loitering the halls? Are you skipping class?”

“I’m heading to the library, Professor ______,” she answers in a curt tone.

But before you can discipline her for speaking to you in that way, Ryuji teases the child, “well, you better be on your way before you get into trouble. I’m looking forward to teaching you.”

The Gryffindor dips her head, smiling, and scampers back to her friends, probably confirming that the gorgeous woman is indeed the new Potions teacher. You catch them celebrating, high-fiving each other and glancing over, and it leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.

“It’s good to be stricter with the students,” you mention in passing. “If you’re too nice, they’ll take advantage of it.”

Ryujin nods, following you. Her eyes are wide, mouth parted slightly in awe as she takes in the infrastructure of the castle, the large glass windows to the pillars supporting the high ceilings. “Honestly, I love Hogwarts so much. There’s such a sense of family here. Even if you’re divided into houses, it just feels so...warm and cozy. I would’ve loved this place as a student.”

She’s speaking her thoughts aloud and fantasizing. “What house do you think I would’ve been sorted into?”

“Hufflepuff,” you reply after a beat. You don’t know Ryujin that well, but it’s a feeling and your observations so far tells you she would be wonderful in that yellow house. “I think you would’ve done well there. But was it not like that at Beauxbatons?”

The school is prestigious and the faculty is as gorgeous as the students are. You’ve heard nothing, but praises about that school and all the alumni you know are elegant individuals.

“They were a lot stricter with their rules. It wasn’t really as relaxed.”

You hum a note. “I didn’t know that. But you must’ve done well, considering Headmaster Jeon hired you to become a potions teacher.”

“Oh, I just really love potions, so I did well. Out of all the subjects, I was the most passionate about it. It’s like an….art form.” Merlin, she is getting harder and harder to hate as the seconds go by. Maybe you should just cut your losses and part ways now before you fall in love with her or something. “You can’t experiment with spells or charms the way you can with potions. There’s just something about the way the colours change right in front of your eyes as you add ingredients that it’s so….”

“Captivating.”

Your steps are slow, the syllables leaving your mouth in a breathless manner, and you nearly want to slap yourself for sounding this emotional in front of a near stranger. She seems to understand your love for Potions right down to the most intricate details. Maybe the two of you are more alike than you thought. But still, a certain part of you envies her to the point where it almost borders on dislike, even annoyance. The emotions inside you are conflicting, but you chalk it down to hormones.

“Yes, that’s the word.” She smiles, fluttering her lashes and you blink hard, wondering if she is a deity who descended from some otherworldly place. She is soft, sweet, and appears like she’s been crafted out of marble, a masterpiece created by a skillful genius. “But of course, I’m nowhere as good as you are.”

You scoff, tearing your eyes away before you’re caught ogling. “Oh please, you don’t need to be humble. If Jeongguk hired you right away, then you must be good.”

The corners of her lips quirk and she sweeps the area with her eyes as you turn the corner. The glass windows are open, letting in fresh air and there’s vivid greenery outside. “What is this place?”

“It’s the greenhouses. They teach Herbology here. Would you like to take a look?”

Her curiosity is piqued. “Sure, if you don’t mind.”

You exit the castle, walking over to the greenhouses to find Jimin weaving between the benches, monitoring the students and letting them do their own observations as he sits back and encourages them. It’s just like him to let them have a more hands-on approach and you smile.

Your husband catches you toddling over from his peripheral vision and he turns, face lighting up like a bulb flickered on. His strides are quick. “What are you doing here?” He reaches in, planting a kiss on your cheek at your lovely surprise. Jimin makes your heart swell and you feel better already.

Ever since the talk, things have been steadily improving. He’s given you more room to breathe and your mood has generally improved after getting full meals again, even if sometimes they’re greasier foods. “I’m just showing the new-hire around. This is Ryujin.”

You don’t know if your eyes are mistaken, but you swear her cheeks become rosier. “Hello, nice to meet you.”

“Hello.” Jimin rapidly peels off his gloves and shakes her hand. You stare at the way their hands are tightly held, skin to skin. Why couldn’t he have done it with his glove on? “Thank you for helping my wife and I out. We’re very grateful.”

“Oh, it’s nothing. I don’t know if I can ever fully replace her.” She lets go of his hand, swallowing and glancing at you. “Congratulations on the baby, by the way.”

“Thank you.” He shifts to face the class, hand gesturing to explain what they’re doing. “We’re just pruning flutterby bushes right now.”

“I see. So these students are...fourth year kids?”

Jimin is pleasantly surprised and his lips lift into a smile. “How did you know?”

Ryujin is bashful and shy. “I made sure to go over all the Hogwarts curriculum just to be sure.”

“You’re very prepared then,” he praises.

“My mother was actually a herbologist too.”

That seems to ignite Jimin’s interest and his brows shoot up. “Really now?”

“She loved plants and flowers and our entire house was full of them,” Ryujin admits with a sheepish smile while inhale the fresh air surrounding her.

“Then you must know what this is.” He picks up a pair of shears from the table and walks over to a bush, crouching down to snip the stem of a flower. She takes it when he hands it to her and brings it to her nose for a delicate sniff. The flower is a bright pastel pink, abundant in petals, scent so overpowering that you can smell it from where you are.

Your jaw drops. Is this actually happening right in front of your eyes right now? Park Jimin is practically pulling the same fucking moves on her as he did on you.

The intelligent young woman knows after taking a moment to deliberate. “It’s a muggle flower. A...carnation. Used for decoration and aesthetic purposes.”

“You’re right.” Jimin gives a cheesy grin, happy to find someone who appreciates plants like he does. “Now I know you’re not a fraud.”

She giggles in response and you’re appalled. They act like you’re not even here. You could fade into the background, disappear, transfigure yourself into a bird and no one would even notice. Your wish to be invisible has finally been granted and you hate it.

But Jimin isn’t the only one who shows her more than a warm welcome. By lunchtime, the entire faculty of staff and students are out of control. There are seventh year students who run out of their classrooms just to catch a glimpse of her walking past, second years sticking their heads out of windows, fifth years who ran half across the castle to join the crowd. The children look on with admiration and wonderment.

There are insistent murmurs amongst the other professors as well and several seats at the Grand Hall are saved for her, practically fighting for her to sit next to them.

Ye Eun mumbles, jealous at the attention, and you can’t believe there would be a day you two could bond over the exasperation you feel. You get it. Really. She’s not only easy on the eyes, but lovely to be around too. But is it really necessary to act like she’s a celebrity? And it’s so entirely unprofessional of the faculty members to be salivating over her. You just—

“Is that really your replacement?”

You’re startled out of your trance by Taehyung sliding next to you. His eyes are pinpointed ahead to where Ryujin is laughing, accepting chocolates from a second year female student. You nearly open your mouth to warn her about how dangerous it is to accept food from students, based on personal experience, but then you decide that your quality of life might just improve a tad bit if she just happened to be turned into a toad.

“Yeah, why?”

“She’s gorgeous,” he says, drooling already, and you roll your eyes. “Tell me, what are her likes and dislikes?”

“If I tell you, what are you going to do with that information?”

“Obviously talk to her.” Taehyung finally looks at you and he adds on quickly, “and maybe use it to smash her later.”

“You are so disgusting.”

“What? Any man or woman with two eyes are thinking the exact same thing as I am. Haven’t you thought that she’s ridiculously attractive?”

“Can you treat her with more respect?” You evade his question and cross your arms. “She’s not a piece of meat.”

“I know.” He sighs, downcasting his head and ashamed at his blatant rudeness to a future colleague. “You’re right.”

For once, someone agrees with you and you take a second to bask in it. “Of course, I’m righ— Hey! Where are you going?”

The idiotic Head of Gryffindor approaches her with blind confidence in every stride. His hand extends and he flashes his boxy smile towards the female. “Hello, I don’t believe we’ve met. My name is Kim Taehyung. I am the Divination professor here at Hogwarts.”

“Oh, hello, Taehyung.” She shakes his hand, offering a kind smile as she stares up at him.

“I love your blouse,” he points out after he lets go.

“T-thank you.” The student-teacher is slightly caught off guard, used to people asking her if she’s the new teacher, where she came from, where she’s staying, how long she’ll be here for, or she’s showered in superficial comments. “I got it on sale.”

“Really?” Taehyung is genuinely interested and his brows shoot up. “Where?”

You’re not sure if you’re impressed or not. On one hand, Taehyung sounds like he wants to buy the white blouse for himself. But on the other hand, you have to admit he’s smoother than the others and much less creepy, intrusive and more courteous.

For the rest of the day, Ryujin follows you. It’s a bit unfamiliar for you to have someone shadowing you, but you don’t mind showing her the ropes and having a person help you out in the classroom, even if she is a cause for distraction. You go over protocol for accidents and emergencies, show her where you keep your books, where the potions closet is, how to get ingredients for potions needed, and what your lessons plans look like. Luckily, she is a fast learner and writes down everything on her little notepad.

Aside from your own personal biases, you really can’t find anything to complain about her.

She is a joy to work with. She is pleasant. She’ll make a great replacement. But something about her just bothers you to no end, and it keeps you awake longer than usual that night in bed.

“Jimin…” You shuffle a bit and he hums softly as an answer, breath on the back of your neck.

At this stage of your pregnancy, you feel stuffy quickly, but you always let Jimin have his five minutes of cuddling in bed. He spoons you from behind as you lay on your left side, his hands around your torso and sprawled on your stomach, your hands on top of his while you both feel the baby move occasionally. It’s intimate, cozy, and you feel safe in his embrace like this.

“What do you think of Ryujin?” you ask him, murmuring in the quietness of the night.

“Seems nice,” he whispers sleepily.

“Just nice?” Your lashes flutter open and you wonder if he’s acting apathetic to spare your feelings. “She’s really gorgeous.”

“I guess.” Jimin holds you closer, your legs tangling together with his. You’ve found the sweet spot, pillow positioned in the right place, husband supporting you as well. It’s comfortable, something you don’t experience so much anymore, but you know in a few hours, the position will be lost when you have to get up for another bathroom break. “I was surprised when she said her mother was a herbologist.”

“Mhm. She’s young, intelligent, optimistic, lovely to be around…”

“Are you jealous?” he asks, feeling more awake than before. You can feel the curve of Jimin’s smile on the back of your neck. He presses a gentle kiss to your skin and you hold back a shudder as goosebumps raise on your arms.

“I’m not,” you mutter with a pout he can’t see. “Honestly, you should be on edge because I might leave you for her. She has a passion for potions, y’know, and that really gets me going.”

Your husband giggles quietly and he nuzzles into your hair. “Guess I have competition then.”

“But be honest, what do you think of her?” You’re not sure why you’re probing so much. You don’t know what kind of answer you’re looking for. But you want to know what he’s truly thinking. “I just want to know your opinion,” you add on, “since she’s going to be my substitute and all. It matters to me what you think. And…T-Taehyung said he’d smash her.”

“Taehyung is a horndog. He’d smash anything that walks on two legs.” Jimin has his lips against your neck as he hums, so that you can feel the pleasant vibrations throughout your body. “I think…I think she’ll be a great replacement. She’ll do a great job because you’ll teach her well. Hogwarts won’t even notice we’re gone.”

The last part of his sentence stings a little. Granted, it definitely wasn’t Jimin’s intention to make you feel replaceable, but face it, everyone likes to be needed. And especially during such a vulnerable time in your life, feeling overly bloated and entirely insecure, this is the kind of thing that slowly eats away at you when it normally wouldn’t affect you otherwise.

But you let it go without a word. You have to choose your battles, after all.

Feeling his firm warmth against your back makes you crave for more of his touch. A part of you is hesitant to do anything for fear of getting rejected again, but the more carnal part of you decides that you have nothing to lose anyway. You can feel his crotch right up against your ass where you want it, and ignoring the fact that it isn’t even close to being hard yet, you nestle back against him slightly. Your ass rubs against his cock as you sandwich it between your cheeks, and you can feel a brief stirring in his length before Jimin shuts you down again with a platonic kiss on your cheek.

“Baby, I’m tired. Let’s just go to sleep, hmmm?”

Your heart sinks in your chest, and tears well up in your eyes, although from this position, Jimin can’t see a single thing. Nodding briefly, you turn to hide your face in the crook of your arm, hide your tears from your husband even though you can feel his half hard cock against you. But it soon subsides, however, as Jimin drifts off to sleep behind you, and you are left lying awake with a tearstained pillow.

That night you dream of your dear husband and a petite, young woman with rosy cheeks.

*//*

Today is the first day of official classes where you’ll be sitting off to the side and observing Ryujin take over your class on her own. Most of the fourth year students in this class have been well trained by your no nonsense methods, but the moment they step into class and see Ryujin at the front instead of you, they whisper excitedly amongst themselves.

Once everyone is settled down, you move to the front of the class again, standing beside Ryujin’s petite figure as you address the class. Today she is wearing a standard black cloak, almost the same as the one you are wearing, but somehow she makes it look more fashionable than you could ever dream of.

“Good morning, fourth years. Today we’ll be learning how to make a Wit Sharpening Potion… which I suspect might come in handy for some of you here,” you narrow your eyes as you make your customary scan across the classroom, pleased when students avoid your gaze in terror. “Before I hand the class over to Professor Ryujin, I’d like to remind you once again that just because I am sitting off to the side, that does not mean I won’t punish any transgressions. There shall be no foolish wand waving or silly incantations in this class. Am I clear?”

“Yes, Professor _____,” the class answers like a well oiled machine.

“Good,” you smile, and turn to your textbook, flipping to the appropriate page…except you can’t remember what your lesson plan is today. Damn it, you just said it moments ago…what potion was it? This is a fourth year class, so it’s either Girding or Wit Sharpening…

Ryujin seemingly senses your struggle and smiles prettily at you as she stops your page at the Wit Sharpening Potion. “Professor_____, are you feeling alright? Maybe you should go sit down. I think I got it from here.”

Inwardly seething more from embarrassment and annoyance at yourself than anything else, you quietly leave her at the blackboard and take a seat at the back of the class, magicking a cushion onto the hard chair so that you can be more comfortable. As you observe the student teacher from here, it’s painfully obvious that she has a way with the students, they like her so much that they are paying 110% attention, and it looks as if she really enjoys teaching Potions as well. Every flick of her hair, wave of her wand and gracious movements as she prepares the ingredients perfectly has you and the students mesmerized.

Your job as Potions Master might very well be in danger.

In the middle of class, one Ravenclaw girl suddenly shoots her hand up. “Professor Ryujin!”

She comes over instantly, a concerned look on her face as she smiles at the student. “Ah, Yeri, what’s wrong?”

“I think my ginger root has mould on it…would it still be alright to use?”

Ryujin picks up the root and examines it for a moment, her pretty forehead creasing a little. Finally, she glances at you, a little unsure, and you jump at the opportunity. This is the fastest you’ve ever moved since you got pregnant.

The root seems far too mouldy to be included in the potion, and doing so would only result in disastrous consequences.

“Does anyone else have a mouldy root? Please check your ingredients carefully before tossing them into your cauldron and killing us all,” you say to the rest of the class, setting aside the ginger root in your hand and turning to Ryujin. “I’ll have to go down to the greenhouse and get more ginger root. While I do that, could you occupy them with something else?”

Ryujin is quick to object. “Oh no, Professor ______, I’ll go instead! You shouldn’t be walking too much in your condition — I imagine it would be tiring for you. Who should I speak to at the greenhouse? Would Professor Park be in now by any chance?”

You hesitate a beat at the mention of your husband’s name. That is precisely why you wanted to go to the greenhouse by yourself in the first place — you know that seeing your husband’s face always improves your mood. And especially considering he has his free period right now, you could even sneak in a quickie in the greenhouse — no one would be the wiser.

“Um…” But with all the students’ attention on you, you are hard pressed to turn her kind intentions down. “Yes, he’ll be in now. Just…ask him for some ginger root. It shouldn’t take long, he probably already has them harvested.”

Your last sentence was meant as a subtle warning for her not to attempt anything foolish alone in the greenhouse with your husband, but Ryujin doesn’t seem to be able to read between the lines as she grins brightly, telling you to take a seat before turning on her heel and heading for the door. You stare after her longingly, wishing to have that kind of mobility once more as she disappears.

The next few moments of class seem to pass by painfully slowly. You’ve assigned the students to write an essay on the benefits and side effects of Wit Sharpening Potion and how they can be remedied, so you are currently almost dozing off in your seat. Blame the stupid pregnancy for tiring you out so much. It’s entirely irrational to believe that Jimin would ever do anything to hurt you or that Ryujin would do anything that isn’t professional, but your mind can’t seem to stop flashing images beneath your eyelids.

You glance at the clock every now and then to document the minutes going by, but it only makes waiting even more torturous as your traitorous brain cooks up all kinds of scenarios as to what Ryujin and Jimin might be doing together in that greenhouse at that very moment.

The greenhouse is known to be humid and steamy. A perfect place for two extremely good looking people to get close and intimate, sweating their passion for each other in a place no one really bothers to check.

Merlin, all this is driving you absolutely nuts. You snap at a boy who asks if he can be excused to use the restroom, making him almost pee his pants.

After what seems like ages, you hear a light, airy voice coming from outside the classroom, accompanied by a deeper chuckle that you recognise immediately. You push yourself off your seat and waddle to the door, only to find Ryujin and Jimin talking and laughing intimately with each other as they approach your classroom.

Jimin is holding a sack of ginger root, his dress shirt pushed up to above his elbows to reveal his wiry forearms, and the sight alone makes your mouth water. His purple hair is pushed off his forehead, slightly damp, and his skin looks to be a little sweaty. Instantly, your suspicion is triggered, but before you can think any further, the two of them have entered your classroom.

“Here you are, this should be enough to last you a week!” Jimin grins as he sets down the heavy sack on the floor, grinning at Ryujin.

“Thank you so much, Professor Park,” she is overly enthusiastic in her gratefulness, touching Jimin’s arm lightly to express her thanks. Your throat immediately dries up when you see how casually she touches your husband.

You clear your throat to remind the two lovebirds that you are in fact standing right in front of them.

Jimin turns to you with the smile still on his face, as if seeing you for the first time since he stepped into your classroom. “Oh, hi, baby! I was just helping Ryujin here with this. It’s a little heavy, and the walk from the greenhouse to the dungeons is pretty far, so…”

“I forgot the way I came from, so he had to show me,” she says sheepishly, “I couldn’t have done it without him. Thank you, Professor Park. You’re very kind.” Ryujin is practically gushing over your husband at this point, and it takes every bit of willpower you have in you not to roll your eyes.

Jimin, as usual, is a sucker for praise, and he laps it all up like a hungry kitten. He beams at her compliments, the smile reaching all the way to his eyes as he runs a hand through his hair in embarrassment. This won’t do. The longer you have to stand here and witness their little love affair, the more stress you’re putting on the baby. The baby in this situation being you.

“Jimin, don’t you have class too in a bit?” You prompt him.

“Oh, well yeah I do, but there’s still some time,” he glances at the clock before looking at you. Then, he turns to Ryujin. “How is your first day of class going? Do you need any help with anything else?”

“I think I’m fine for now.” She nods and gives a pretty smile, timidly tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “But I’ll definitely ask you if I need anything.”

His eyes lock into hers. “Alright.”

“Don’t forget to water that malloweed,” Ryujin adds on in a teasing tone, arms behind her back and leaning to the side slightly with a secretive smile on her face.

“I won’t forget.” Your husband laughs heartily, looking all too happy. “I owe you that extra-sweet butterbeer, right?”

Before he can slip out, you interject with narrowed eyes. “Malloweed?”

“Don’t worry about it.” The smile is still lingering on Jimin’s face and he pats your head once before passing by. “I’ll see you later.”

He exits and you swear there’s a skip in his step. Ryujin glances at his retreating figure before walking away, handing out the ginger root to the students who need them. In the meantime, you’re stuck in your spot, bones and muscles unable to move. But your left eye twitches and there’s a tap on your arm.

Your neck cranes downwards. “Professor, how do we know if the Wit Sharpening Potion is a success?”

The student who is asking this stupid question that gets on your already infuriated nerves fidgets on the spot in front of you. You close your eyes in exasperation, wishing you could tell him to just pour the entire cauldron down his throat and see if it has really worked or not.

You send him a scathing look, and it’s enough to send him scurrying away.

It’s absurd to question Jimin’s loyalties. He is your husband for goodness sakes and you know as well as anyone that he only has eyes for you. But as unreasonable as you know your suspicions are, you begin to question if they are irrational or not. Maybe you’re the one who’s been blinded by his love. Is it really so aberrant to believe there could be something going on?

“Is there something that you need help with, Professor ______?”

Ryujin stops, noticing that you’re struggling to get the brass scale from the bottom cabinet with your enormous belly in the way. Before your lips can part and tell her you’re fine, she moves downwards and grabs it. You sigh, but then the collar of her robes flutter and your eyes latch onto the skin of her neck.

“Merlin! Are you alright?!” Your hand latches onto her shoulder in alarm as she rises. There are students who turn around, but when you cast a sharp glance, they all turn around to mind their own business. Your voice lowers, frantically whispering to the confused girl, “did you get attacked?”

Her brows furrow. “Pardon?”

“You have bruises on your neck,” you murmur.

But immediately, her hand comes up to cover them and her face blooms into a shade of scarlet. Still, she can’t completely cover the splotches of blue and purple made across her flesh, down to her collarbone, like a vine of flowers made and by the soft petals of someone’s lips…..lips...

The corners of your lips fall. Your eyes glaze over. The realization slams into you.

They’re not just bruises.

They’re hickies.

Ryujin downcasts her head and quickly fixes her collar, hiding her neck from plain view. She swallows hard, avoiding eye contact with you. “Oh, I—….uh….I think I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?” your voice is deadpanning, zero emotions leaking into your blank expression. But your jaw ticks and you feel your patience being tested. It’s the calm beneath the storm. “You didn’t have them before.” At least, you didn’t notice them before she headed to the greenhouse. Were they there before? In your mind’s eye, her skin was pure and pristine, which only means one thing...

“I...umm….I might head to the infirmary after class then. I think it’s just a bug bite.”

“Yup. You should get that checked out. Wouldn’t want to be bitten by something and die.”

Your last word is punctuated with a stiff, glassy smile hiding a thinly veiled threat. But before she can say anything more, a student raises their hand to ask a question and Ryujin saunters over. As you grip the brass scale on the table, you nearly bend the entire metal apparatus in half.

There is no way. No way. You can’t believe it. You won’t.

But you would have to be a complete idiot to be in denial.

*//*

You’re actually going insane.

For the sake of you and your child, as well as not bursting a blood vessel at your forehead, you take deep breaths to lower your high blood pressure. You try your best to remain positive, but optimism has never been your strong point. It’s intrinsic for you to jump to the worst conclusions, to rely on your rationale and prepare for the worst. While these traits have helped you all your life, they’re making you go crazy now.

When dinner rolls around, you pick at the food in your plate. The seat beside you is empty, saved for your dear husband, but he never shows up. You wait and wait, hopes high, but crushed every time you catch someone entering the Great Hall, only for it to be a student. The amount you exhale in disappointment would be enough to fill an entire room. It’s not like you can eat either and take your mind off of it. You’re unable to swallow your food, having no appetite, finding it too difficult to swallow. Everything that you were once craving has become unappetizing.

“______!” Taehyung interrupts your deep trance with a shout, startling you. “I was calling you ten times! What’s wrong with you? You’re never so out of it.”

“Nothing.” You put your fork down. “What do you want?”

The Divination Professor scratches the back of his neck. “Do you know where Ryujin is?”

“What?” You sit straighter, eyes sweeping around the table. You didn’t even notice. “She’s not here?”

Taehyung shrugs, plopping down on the empty seat you had been saving. “I thought you would know since she’s suppose to shadow you, right?”

Immediately, you abandon your dinner, tottering off and disregarding the way Taehyung calls your name. You don’t turn back. Your steps are quicker than they’ve ever been. You hold your stomach, supporting the weight, and when students greet you as they pass, you only hum, never slowing down. You’ve become the Hogwarts Express, soldiering on full speed ahead without stopping for anyone.

Wobbling through the twisting hallways, down two sets of moving staircases, you make it all the way to the greenhouses, moving towards Jimin’s office. As you get closer, you catch the light underneath the door, telling you he’s inside and you breathe a sigh of relief.

You really thought there was something going on.

Your hand wraps around the doorknob and as you hear shuffling inside, you part it, deciding to surprise him. But before you can call his name, you’re interrupted by a soft, feminine gasp.

“I’m so sorry!”

The door shoves open, thundering against the wall. You are met with a scandalous sight. “What the hell?!”

The two of them turn to face your rage, the way your features are twisted up hideously, your brows furrowed deep enough to crease permanently. Jimin’s sitting at his desk, leaning back in his chair, hair swept back with a long day’s of sweat built as his hairline. His lips are plush, parted slightly, hands placed on Ryujin’s hips to support her. And she is sitting right in his lap, on his thick thighs, her legs together on the side, palms placed delicately on his shoulders.

Their eyes are large and rounded, like deers in headlights. Instantly, Ryujin stands to her feet, posture straight, as if she can undo what you’ve just witnessed. Her cheeks are tinged pink and she brushes a strand of hair away from her face behind her ear. But you don’t buy her shy act anymore. She’s sly, more so than you are. “I-uh….accidentally tripped and fell over.”

Your arms cross, foot tapping, teeth gritting down and doing everything you can not to march over and grab a fistful of her glossy hair, rip those long strands from her scalp as you scream at her audacity to attempt to seduce your husband. “Uh-huh.”

“What are you doing here, baby?” Jimin smiles like nothing just happened. You can’t believe this. Your husband just got caught with another woman practically gyrating on his lap, and he doesn’t even have the decency to look guilty. His eyes light up and he gets to his feet, the corners of his mouth lifting as his eyes crinkle into half moons.

“I could ask you the same thing,” your voice is sharp, glare hard enough to kill, but it has no effect on him. “You weren’t at dinner.”

Your husband grins wolfishly, brighter than the sun. He is mischievous, joking around without being aware of the dire situation. “Did you miss me?”

When he touches your arm, you shrug it off, stepping back. “What were you doing?”

Jimin’s expression falls at your coldness. Ryujin quickly steps in, coming to stand beside Jimin and trying to help. She doesn’t know that it’s making it worse to see them side by side, so close together. “It’s not his fault. I actually asked Jimin for a Hufflepuff robe. I wanted to try it on and see what it would be like since you told me I would probably be sorted in the Hufflepuff house.”

“You, see?” Jimin smiles again, stepping aside and lifting his hand to hold your arm. His eyes sweep the expanse of Ryujin, the way robe drapes her body and the bright yellow seems to make her eyes glimmer more. “It looks good on her, right?”

“Perfect.” The syllables are bitter and passive aggressive. It sickens you to see the two Hufflepuffs next to each other. Indeed, they are perfect together. You don’t even ask if Ryujin is wearing Jimin’s own personal robes — the way they look loose on her frame is enough of an answer.

You were wrong before. She shouldn’t be in Hufflepuff. She’s a Slytherin through and through, though the thought of having this sly little witch tarnish your beloved House’s hallowed reputation almost makes you throw up. You underestimated her right from the beginning. She was clearly out to seduce Jimin all this time.

It’s awkward. Stiff. You’re glaring at Jimin and he blinks a few times before returning your glare, made less of anger and more in a scolding manner. He frowns at you and you’re flipping through the numerous hexes in your mind, wondering if you can curse him without moving.

The both of you are waging a silent war with each other through your heated gazes while Ryujin is breaking into a cold sweat at the atmosphere. The air is suffocating and she clears her throat to excuse herself. “I...I should go. Umm...I’ll return this to you tomorrow, Jimin. Thank you.”

“It’s no problem.” He’s the first to tear his eyes away from you, smiling and nodding towards the younger witch. She opens her mouth to bid you farewell, but then smartly shuts it when you don’t cast her a glimpse. Her footsteps scatter away until there’s silence in the room.

The silence extends until your frozen heart beats ten times.

“Are you upset?”

“What do you think?”

Jimin grimaces. “Why are you so upset? I was only helping her since she asked me. If it’s because I didn’t show up to dinner on time then next time I’ll make sure that—”

“Why was she in your lap, Jimin?”

His mouth opens and then it closes. “It was an accident.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes to the back of your skull. “Yeah, right.”

When you were caught straddling Jimin late at night in the classroom and Hoseok walked in, you both brushed it off as an accident too; only Hoseok left the two of you with a knowing smile on his lips. Did he really think you were such an idiot? It’s insulting. Even if it was an accident, you saw the look on his fucking face. He loved every second of it. Was it such a coincidence that Ryujin has been flirting with him? That she suddenly had hickies all over herself after going to the greenhouse?

“What—” He’s made speechless, but you don’t give him any more time of day. “W-where are you going?!”

“None of your business,” you sass him.

It’s easier to breathe when you’re alone in the corridors. You don’t have to be around frustrating people, people whom you love but disappoint you. Everyone is just disappointing, and it feels better to be alone. But of course, there’s a stirring feeling in your stomach and you look down, patting your swollen tummy as the baby shifts around.

You’re not so alone after all. “You wouldn’t betray me, right?”

The fungus inside you kicks you straight in the gut and you cower over, choking on the air, breath lost in your lungs. “Fuck, dammit!” The rule of not swearing anymore since the baby can hear you is thrown out the window. “Child and father, all the fucking same!”

If there are ghosts wandering the hallways, then they steer clear of in your path of wrath.

That night, you end up going to bed a lot earlier than usual. You can’t focus on marking, can’t eat much, and you most definitely don’t want to wait around for Park Jimin to show his stupid face around here.

He enters a few hours later and you don’t know where he’s been or what he’s been doing. Or who. But he tiptoes and stays quiet, crawling into bed and he curls up behind you. His arms come around carefully to embrace your frame, hands sprawled onto your stomach where the baby’s foot is. Your legs tangle ever so slightly and you feel his breath against the back of his neck.

Your own breath is held and you finally open your eyes in the darkness. You’re not asleep like he thinks you are.

He smells like florals, but not in the same way as when he works in the garden.

The scent is sweeter. It’s perfume.

*//*

It never gets better. In fact, it gets worse.

You wake up smiling at Jimin and he smiles back, never mentioning the previous night again. He falls into your trap, thinking that everything is good and that there’s no misunderstanding after you got time to cool off. Little does he know when he turns around and goes about his day, you’re seething.

“You’re smiling a lot lately.” The corners of your lips pull, nearly cracking at the stiffness. “Did something good happen?”

“No, not really.” Jimin secures his dark, plaid blazer. He fixes his sleeves, pushing up the round spectacles he’s decided to wear today and at your prolonged staring, he grins a cheesy smile and walks over, leaning in to plant a soft kiss on your lips. It’s sweet and all too brief. “I’m just happy that you’re happy too.”

“What?” You quirk your head, poking his shoulder once. “You didn’t like my mood swings?”

Your husband is sheepish and he admits, “they were a bit out of hand. I felt like I was walking on eggshells all the time. Did you sleep well last night?”

“Hahahahaha…” The moment he turns around, your mouth falls into a straight line and your exaggerated laughter ceases. “As well as a human beach ball would. It was a little stuffy.” You notice the way the purple strands of his hair are slicked back, showing his forehead and brows. “You did your hair today?”

“Yeah.” Jimin seems to ponder over your words for a second as he glances at your figure, before adjusting his bangs a little. His fingers dance along the spines of the bookshelf by the sofa, picking up a new pregnancy book to read for the day. “Do you like it?”

“It’s nice. You ironed your robes too?”

“Gotta look good if I want the day to be good.” Jimin beams at you.

Liar. He just wants to look good for a certain young female teacher who’s obedient and submissive in personality, every man’s wet dream.

But you don’t call him out on it. Oh no. Your tactics have changed. No more tears. No more angry tantrums. No more arguments. You are on observation mode, a hawk in the sky who watches in the shadows. You’re not a brainless Gryffindor, an emotional Hufflepuff, or an aloof Ravenclaw. You are a Slytherin. Head of Slytherin, in fact. The emerald colours on your robes remind you that you have always been a snake.

You are ambitious. Cunning. Resourceful. And you’re going to catch him red-handed so there’s no more denying, so that he can’t make any more excuses.

Only then will all of this be laid to rest.

Today, Jimin has graciously blessed you with his presence in your classroom once more, even though he has to cut short his lunchtime in order to make it for his own class. You suspect it’s more to do with a certain witch with a petite frame and melodious voice than you needing extra help.

From your position outside the classroom, you observe the two lovers. It physically sickens you to go any closer to them, so you settle with watching them from afar, on the pretense of needing the restroom. All the better to find the concrete evidence you need, anyway.

Ryujin is blushing, her pretty cheeks tinted a rose pink as she glances at Jimin. “Jimin, you’re such a patient man…I can’t imagine how you deal with Taehyung’s antics every single day. Did you know, the other day he tried to trip me? I almost fell into his lap!!”

Jimin laughs, a sound that travels across the room and makes your stomach flip at the familiarity of it. “Did he? He can be quite the prankster sometimes. Did you get hurt? If his pranks become too much, I can speak to him and tell him to dial it down.”

“Oh, Jimin, you’re so nice!” Ryujin giggles in response, and you roll your eyes. What’s so funny about what he just said? This entire conversation is duller than the fifth annex of your favourite Potions textbook.

Jimin grins back at her, utterly infatuated with her angelic smile. “Oh- here, let me get that for you!”

“T-thank you.”

You slink from the corner, glancing through the gap of the door. You watch how your husband is reaching up to the top shelf to grab a tray of phials. He’s standing behind her as his arm extends and you scrutinize the way her round ass is practically rubbing all over his front as she giggles.

But before you can bust down the door with an ‘ah-ha!’, he’s moved back and Seokjin’s wandered into the room, excitedly telling Jimin about how he’s helping the Prefects catch whoever’s been breaking into Professors’ offices at night.

The pair of them are laughing all the time together. When Ryujin isn’t complimenting Jimin and they’re not flirting, then they’re making eye contact across the room, eye fucking each other. In the span of a week, they have their own inside jokes, and they’re touching each other all the time. Whether it’s a brush on the arm, on a hand on the shoulder. It mocks you considering how you’ve been physically starved for months now.

“What’s this?”

You’re holding the bouquet of marigolds that Jimin just handed to you, pretty flowers tied together with a red ribbon.

“What does it look like?” Jimin teases. After two years, he’s honed his own special flowers just for you. You no longer need to touch the stem for the petals to ripple into your favourite shade. Being in mere proximity of it has changed the colour of the flowers and when Jimin’s in the same room as you, they turn into a swirl of sunny yellow and emerald.

“Why?”

“Why not?” He shuffles his papers on the table into neat piles. His irises twinkle when they glance up at you. “Can’t I give my beautiful wife flowers sometimes?”

You hate it — not the flowers or the bisque shade that reminds you of blazing fires on Hogsmeade trips. You hate that the gesture that would’ve once made your heart melt is now ridden with suspicion. It’s unbearable to look at the florals when all you can think of is that it’s a tactic to sway you and make you think otherwise.

You put them down; resisting the urge to light them on fire with your wand. “I should go wash the dishes—”

“Already done them.” Your husband smiles. “You can just sit back and relax. I have a few errands to run before I can join you.”

Your voice is weak. You feel your resolve wavering. “Where are you going?”

“I extended my office hours for sixth and seventh years.” As Jimin takes his briefcase and passes, he presses a gentle kiss to your cheek. His gaze is full of endearment….or pity, you’re not sure anymore. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back before you know it since Ryujin’s helping me.”

“R-Ryujin?”

“She knows more about herbology than I thought and it’s nice to get fresh insight. At this rate, she might take both our jobs.”

You stop him before he walks out the door. Your facade begins to crumble, hand on his arm shaking, lips trembling. “D-Don’t you think you’re getting too close to her?”

“Why are you bringing this up?” Jimin smiles automatically like the two years you’ve been together has trained him to do so. His arm lifts and he pats your head once and as his hands fall, he strokes your stomach gently.

“....no reason.”

“I’m just being friendly. We should welcome new staff to Hogwarts, right? I just keep thinking that it must be hard for her since she’s so young and she’s joining by herself. At least when I joined, you also joined, so we were the newbies together.”

“Yeah, but maybe you should cool it,” you plead, looking up at your husband.

He takes a second of consideration and the corners of his mouth lifts. “Are you jealous?”

Once again, he’s evaded your request. He’s evaded all insinuations of him and the young woman being something more. And he doesn’t know how much it breaks you inside, how you’ve been trying to convince yourself you’ll just catch him and end this, how you could even possibly…...possibly end this.

It takes all of your composure, all of your inner strength to smile at him, even if it’s strained. “Why would I be?”

“That’s right. That’s my girl.” Jimin kisses your lips briefly, smacking his mouth on yours, smiling against your skin as he pulls away. “Love you.”

The door slams as he leaves. Gone. You’re by yourself, holding onto your stomach as your baby stirs inside. “Love you too….”

You don’t buy it.

Not one bit.

And you never thought the day would arrive when Jimin is tormenting you more than you are tormenting him. You’ve always worried that you were the one who would eventually wear down his spirit, that he would become broken by you, that one day he would look at himself in the mirror and hate himself, hate the life that he’s led. But you were mistaken.

It’s not like that at all.

You’re the one who’s being worn down.

*//*

“Yeah, she’s totally fucking someone.” Ye Eun is spiteful, loitering at the back of the Great Hall as you join her, crossing your arms.

“How do you know?”

“Just look at her. She’s smiling so much and her skin is glowing. Her cheeks are always rosy for a reason. She keeps batting her lashes back and forth too. It’s so obvious,” the Magical Creature Professor spits out. You take deep breaths, stroking your stomach, trying to not get an aneurysm. “It’s so unfair.”

“What are we talking about?” Taehyung joins with a rectangular grin, huddling up back with you like you’re in your sixth year sharing secrets and immaturely gossiping.

“Ryujin is sleeping with someone.”

“Oh?” Taehyung’s interest is piqued and his brow lifts. “Who?”

Ye Eun shrugs. “I don’t know.”

The Head of Gryffindor laughs heartily. “Well, if you don’t know then you shouldn’t spread rumours around.” He arrogantly walks off before shouting at a first year to be careful, right before they’re about to slip in the puddle of pumpkin juice they didn’t notice on the floor.

Ye Eun huffs out in annoyance. “Why is everyone taking her side?!”

You don’t know. But you do know one thing. You can’t just sit back and watch Jimin being stolen right from under your nose like this. You have to do something.

Slytherins are cunning and sneaky. You have come from a long lineage of Slytherins — you are surer than sure that it runs in your blood. You won’t be upstaged by some cutesy little witch who thinks she can come into Hogwarts and play dress up in someone else’s husband’s robes. This adrenaline and rush of confidence is all that fuels you as you casually take a seat opposite her, with Ye Eun filling in beside you.

“Ryujin, you have to let me know your skincare routine. You’re just glowing lately, even more so than I am, and I’m the one who’s pregnant!” You laugh a little louder than necessary, looking at Ye Eun. “Wouldn’t you say so, Ye Eun?”

“Oh, definitely,” Ye Eun nods as she takes a sip of her pumpkin juice.

The petite student teacher seems a little taken aback by your sudden compliment as she touches her cheek self-consciously, blushing a little as she does so. “Ah, really? You’re too kind, Professor _____.”

“Oh, no…just giving credit where credit is due,” you beam at her, reaching for your utensils to start digging into your food ravenously. “By the way, did you get those…bug bites on your neck cleared up at the infirmary the other day? They looked pretty serious…I hope you’re alright?”

Ye Eun immediately perks up at the mention of suspicious looking bites on Ryujin’s neck. Ryujin also seems to freeze on the spot, eyes darting back and forth between you and Ye Eun in a panic as she touches her neck.

“Bug bites? What kind of bug was it? I am in charge of Care of Magical Creatures, you know… maybe I can be of some help!” Ye Eun reaches for Ryujin’s collar and pulls it aside before the younger witch can flinch away.

Once Ye Eun catches a glimpse of the slightly faded bruises on her neck, she gasps, and you can barely keep your smirk at bay.

“Merlin! These are…these aren’t bug bites!” Ye Eun covers her mouth in shock before lowering her voice to a hiss. “These are hickies! Have you been…having relations with the other professors?”

“Re-really?” You pretend to be taken aback as well, and all this while Ryujin seems slightly uncomfortable. “Relations with colleagues? Ryujin, I don’t want to nag…but you know that’s inappropriate right? You just got here after all, and you wouldn’t want Headmaster Jeon finding out about this…would you?”

You’ve got that seductress right where you want her. You can see the panic in her eyes as she fumbles for a response, her knife and fork shaking in her grip as she sets it down.

“I… I’m…I wasn’t aware that it was inappropriate. I apologise,” she shifts her gaze to her plate in front of her, and you have to bring your goblet of pumpkin juice to your mouth for a sip to keep yourself from throwing it all over her face.

Unaware that it is inappropriate to flirt with someone else’s husband, sit in his lap, grind her ass against his dick? The nerve of this bitch.

But you can’t let her know she’s under your skin. Your Slytherin pride won’t allow it. So you smile at her politely. “You’re working so well at Hogwarts, it’ll be a shame if you had to leave early.”

Letting your unspoken threat hang in the air between you for a moment more, you take a final sip of your pumpkin juice and set your goblet down. “I forgot something in my room — I’ll see you in class, Ryujin!”

And then you walk away feeling as though you are on top of the world — having faced up to your problems instead of running away from them for once.

*//*

Ideally, things would improve from then on. Ryujin would get the message and back off. You and Jimin would enjoy the last few weeks you have here before going on maternity leave. Once you recover from the birthing process, you’ll have glorious sex again and also a chubby baby to love and coo over. But of course, nothing in life is perfect….or even remotely close to it.

Ryujin acts uncomfortable around you, the atmosphere between the two of you is awkward and stiff. Even after your threat to practically kick her out of Hogwarts if she continues seducing your husband, Ryujin doesn’t seem to get the message at all. It was like cotton was stuck in her ears and her mind is empty because she has the audacity to get even closer to your husband. Not only does it not stop, but it escalates.

Every chance that vixen gets, she puts on her shy and coy act, and she begins to call Jimin affectionately by his first name. They’re always giggling and laughing with each other, and she’s always staring at him from across the room. Her audacity leaves you dumbfounded, at a loss of what to do next.

Your glares and threats have no effect on her whatsoever.

And when you ask Jimin about it or try to bring it up, he always brushes you off.

The stress is beginning to drive you to the brink of insanity.

“The Draught of Peace is supposed to relieve anxiety and anxiousness. It is one of the most difficult potions to brew, so much so that three quarters of the class failed last year.” You pace between the desks and a Gryffindor in the back folds a note, ready to pass it to his friend. The tip of your wand pokes through your sleeve and one simple wave, the note has disintegrated into ash.

The giggles die down at your glare. “It is an advanced potion and requires more than just memorization and skill, but talent. Making one single mistake will have drastic consequences. For instance, adding too much ingredients will put the drinker into a permanent sleeping state that is irreversible. You will know if you brewed it correctly if there is a silvery vapour.”

“Now onto the ingredients.” You twist on your heel, facing all the students. “Pay attention because I’m only going to go over it once—”

You just can’t wrap your mind around how this happened. Since when did your communication with Jimin slip so far? What’s the real reason he won’t touch you anymore? Is he really having an affair with Ryujin? What exactly is he hiding from you?

“Professor?” Yoongi raises his hand with a lifted eyebrow.

“Uh-...yes?”

“You were saying something?” the Slytherin questions and the rest of the kids look up at you, waiting. There are tens of eyes pinpointed on your face and you stand completely still.

What were you saying?

A palm pressed to your forehead, you attempt to maintain a calm facade, but it’s quickly slipping. In the middle of lecture, your mind races and don’t have a shred of recollection on what you were just discussing. If Yoongi’s here then this is a fifth-year class. That means you were either discussing the Calming Draught or the Invigorating Draught. Unless it was the Strengthening Solution….

You’re losing it. And you can feel it — you’re on the verge of a mental breakdown…

“What Professor _____ is waiting for, is for you all to flip to the correct textbook page.” Ryujin steps in with a flawless smile. She glances at you and nods, striding forward while the students open their textbooks hastily. “You will need powdered moonstone, syrup of hellebore, and powdered unicorn horn as well as powdered porcupine quills. As usual, all of these materials will be provided to you, but if you need more to make it again, there is a limit of one hundred grams per person as these are very expensive ingredients. Please use them with care.”

“Earlier in the semester, all of you have written twelve inches of parchment on the properties of moonstone. I am aware that the lovely Professor Park has also had a few lessons on Hellebore and its poisonous effects. This is the time we are finally going to use that information.” She smiles towards every student. “See? Everything we teach ends up connecting together.”

All of the students smile back at her. You hate this. You detest losing control of yourself, you despise how your brain cannot organize itself and you loathe the way you’re being replaced right in front of your eyes in all aspects of your life — from your marriage to your career.

You can see it right in front of your eyes. Like a vision flashing itself beneath your lids. It’s her and not you. It’s her that became Potions Master all those years ago, her that became acquainted with Jimin, that dated him for a year and half before becoming engaged.

If you weren’t in the picture, Jimin would’ve married her. Not you.

“Umm…..Professor?”

Your trance is snapped and you turn. “Yes?”

But the student isn’t talking to you. It’s Ryujin that everyone looks at. “How can I help you?”

“In the textbook, it says that it needs to be stirred seven times. Both clockwise and then counter-clockwise. Does that mean a total of fourteen times or in that seven we alternate between both directions?”

“That’s a very good question,” she praises and makes the girl gleam. “Let me address the entire class.”

*//*

“There you are.” The door creaks open, your husband entering with a smile. His visage is illuminated by the few candles surrounding the table you’re working out with the books sprawled all out. “I was looking for you everywhere.”

“Oh so you’re suddenly so concerned about me?” You sass him, but without any malice in your voice.

Jimin scoffs and comes over to hug you. His arms wrap around your torso, hands sprawled on your swollen stomach and he plants a kiss on your shoulder. “Why are you so sulky?”

You sigh, melting into his embrace. “I don’t know.”

“Is Sapling bothering you?” Jimin matches your pout when you turn around to face him. “If they keep kicking you, I’ll threaten to tickle them.”

As annoyed as you’ve been with him, you can’t resist the smile that spreads across your face. You’ve been missing him. “But then you’re tickling me.”

“It’s a win-win situation.”

“No, it’s not!” you laugh, feeling better already. “I was just finishing some stuff.”

“Don’t work too hard. You have a good excuse to take it easy.”

You hum a low note, staring at him with the flicker of the candles casting their warm light. The rest of the classroom is quiet and dark. The moment is intimate and you reach over, hugging your husband. There’s a space between your bodies, the watermelon size of your belly preventing you getting too close, but you try your best, eyes shut, grasping onto him tightly.

“What’s wrong?” His hands slowly wrap around your shoulders.

“Nothing.”

No matter how firmly you hold onto him, it feels like he’s still slipping away from you, and you are growing more and more desperate.

“Doesn’t seem like nothing.” You can feel Jimin’s smile and he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead before brushing away a few strands of your hair from your face. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Jimin…” You lock your gaze into his. “Let me suck you off.”

“Wait...what?!” He watches how you get onto your knees. It’s a bit of a struggle when your center of balance has changed, but you manage, despite Jimin trying to pull you up. “Baby—”

You tug the zipper of his pants, palming his front boldly. It’s miraculous that he’s already slightly hard and you look up at him past your lashes. Jimin swallows hard and his adam’s apple bobs.

“I’ll make you feel really good, I promise. I just really want to taste you again, Jimin. You already got your kid in me, now let me swallow some more.” It’s pathetic how desperate you are. A year ago, there had to be a lot of persuasion to get you on your knees. Now, you’d even drop down onto the cold forbidden forest floor if it means you can get one suck of his thick cock. “Please?”

“I—” He’s at a loss for words and you don’t wait, tugging his pants down. You palm him harder, practically salivating and drooling as you imagine the heavy weight on your tongue, the saltiness of his precum on your tastebuds. But Jimin holds the waistband of his underwear, not letting you pull it down. He grabs the scrap of fabric in his fist, holding it on for dear life. “T-this is inappropriate, _____.”

“No, it’s not,” you sputter. “We’ve done it before and no one’s around right now.”

“Doesn’t change that it’s wrong.” Jimin pulls up his pants again and tries to support you onto your feet again, but you struggle against his hands, staying down on your knees.

“Why won’t you let me suck you off?!” The harsh whispers leaves you in a fury. The last thing you want is prefects to wander and investigate the noises, but it’s difficult to keep your voice down.

“Why are you so insistent on it?”

“Because we haven’t had sex for nearly six months, Jimin!” you spit out the cold facts at him. “What the hell is wrong with you?!”

“Is it so wrong that I just don’t feel like it?” Jimin spits back, his usually amiable features twisted in what seems like…anger?

“Yes! For you it is. You usually can’t keep your hands off of me!”

Jimin is frustrated and he runs a hand through his hair, pushing it back. “Just get up!”

“Fine, I’ll stop!” You’re annoyed, sad, but most of all humiliated that you have to rely on him to help you onto your feet. Jimin has a prolonged stare at your swollen stomach, swallowing hard again, and you burn in embarrassment. If he hates you and your child so much, then he shouldn’t have impregnated you in the first place. “If I’m so disgusting and unattractive that you won’t even let me anywhere near your dick — I’ll just go and leave you in peace then.”

You struggle to your feet — completely ignoring Jimin’s attempts to help as you shove him away, half in tears, half in anger. With one hand on your belly, you swipe at your cheeks impatiently as you exit the classroom amidst your husband’s panicked pleas for you to stay. With your wand, you cast a temporary locking spell on the door that will allow you to get down the hallway without him following you.

Your shared room feels bigger, emptier without Jimin. The bed is colder no matter how many warming spells you cast, and without the weight of his familiar body beside you, you can’t fall asleep. Tears have stained your cheeks for the past few hours already, it is now well into the night, but Jimin hasn’t come back to your room. With every second that passes, it feels as if you are being suffocated even as the vast emptiness of the room mocks your loneliness.

Even the baby inside you has gone to sleep, so you are completely, utterly alone.

*//*

Jimin feels like his knees are going to give out at any moment. This is not how he envisioned married life — things should have been perfect. With a baby on the way to celebrate your love, the relationship between the two of you should be stronger than ever. Instead, it’s in shambles; somehow he managed to hurt the very person he was trying so hard to protect all this while.

He lets himself sink down onto the cold floor of the classroom. Watching you struggle with the pregnancy the past few months has taken a toll on him too — not only does it hurt his heart to see the love of his life in pain or uncomfortable, it also pains him that he can’t take care of your needs properly. Every time you ask him to have sex, he has to physically restrain himself from giving in for fear that he wouldn’t be able to stop himself if he gives in to his urges.

Fuck, even thinking about you now has his dick half-hard again; Jimin thinks he must be a monster. A disgusting piece of dragon dung, a poor, sorry excuse for a husband who can’t keep his sexual urges at bay, a husband who looks at his wife and baby with a lustful gaze. Merlin, he doesn’t deserve to have you.

He pushes himself off the floor, willing his erection to go away as he tries to unlock the door once more. You must have put some kind of temporary locking spell on it, for now it opens easily and he steps out into the hallway, utterly at a loss of what to do. The past few nights, you’ve been sleeping less and less, and Jimin feels even worse when he thinks about how he can fall asleep so easily as compared to you. All the more reason why he shouldn’t go back to your shared room tonight, right? The sight of him would most likely enrage you further, and that isn’t good for the baby. He should find somewhere else to sleep tonight.

Walking with his half hard erection between his legs, Jimin sighs. He’ll have to take care of his urges in some other manner.

*//*

A whimper leaves the back of her throat and Ryujin pushes him away, hands on his firm chest. Heaving breaths leave her swollen lips and she shakes her head. “T-T-This is so wrong. I-it’s so wrong. You have a wife!”

His office is dark, only a few candles on the shelves casting their warm glow. The door is locked and she’s leaning back on his desk as his front presses against hers. “You didn’t think it was wrong when you rubbed your ass all over my cock,” Jimin mutters, catching her lips one more time.

He kisses her harshly, with teeth and passion as if trying to rid of his lustful urges and use her as his cum rag. Jimin’s arms snake around her frame, hands coming to palm her round ass and he feels up against her sides. He’s a dog in heat and Ryujin gives in, palms on his shoulders, moaning into the kiss and allowing him to rut against her. His hot tongue slips into the seams of her mouth, saliva making a mess.

Ryujin is moaning as she throws her head back to give him more access to her neck. On the corner of her lips is tiny little smirk, for she has achieved what she was out to get all along. She’s sick and tired of playing the innocent act.

Jimin pushes her further and things start to fall off the desk. Books, parchment, and quills tumble to the floor, but he has no regard. When he parts from her, his pupils are blown out in lust.

“Jimin….”

He hates the way she calls his name. He hates looking at her. So, he spins her around, pinning her against his wooden desk, bending her over. Jimin presses his covered cock against the crevice of her ass and hastily, he pushes her skirt up over her waist. Her white panties have a wet patch and he doesn’t waste time, tugging his trousers down.

Jimin’s hands find purchase on her hips, his cock still covered by his own underwear, but it doesn’t stop him from rubbing himself onto her, up and down, side to side, between the cheeks of her ass. Hot breaths leave his mouth and she moans at the feeling, pushing herself back onto him.

“You think I wouldn’t notice, slut?” He slaps her ass with his palm, the strike reddening her flesh and causing her to yelp. “Staring at me across the room….touching me all the time…” Jimin spanks her again, harder, and he watches the flesh jiggle before rubbing the spot and soothing it with his touch. “You even dare sit on my lap and rub your ass all over me in front of my wife.”

He spits it out, angered. Jimin’s hands skim up Ryujin’s body to her blouse and he tugs the buttons, pulling the fabric roughly. His hands snake past her bra, strap falling, and he squeezes her breast. Jimin rubs her nipple before it pebbles and he pinches, listening to her gasp and watching the pretty way she arches her back into him. He groans, pressing his cock closer to her ass and covered pussy. Her cotton panties are completely drenched like she pathetically wet herself.

“Fuck,” he groans, shutting his eyes. “An accident? Yeah, right.”

“I...I’m sorry…” Ryujin moans, pushing herself back onto him. He pinches her nipple again, squeezing and playing with it while pushing his entire body against her. Jimin’s warm breath skims against the back of Ryujin’s neck and he sucks the supple flesh, tainting pristine skin with a purple hickey.

“Do you know how much shit she’s been giving me because of you?”

The fox smirks, pushing herself against him again, her core clenching. She lets him rub his cock all over her ass and she cranes her head around to stare at him. Jimin’s jaw clenches when their eyes lock and he spanks her again. Ryujin grips the edge of the desk, whimpering at the pain that feels too good. She arches her ass for his viewing pleasure, letting his lustful eyes run over every inch of her delicate, petite body and fully enjoying it.

“Bet you want her to walk in on us right now, huh? You’d love that, wouldn’t you? Trying to destroy my marriage, slut?” Everything was perfect before she came along. It only took a flutter of her lashes and a few sly touches until he couldn’t resist anymore. She had been out from the start to be a homewrecker. And it only pisses him off when she gives a hum of agreement.

“Doesn’t my body look so beautiful, Professor Park? Aren’t I just perfect? Sometimes, I feel sorry for you, you know,” Ryujin sighs in mock pity. “Having to stare at your whale of a wife. How do you satisfy your urges when she asks you to? Do you fuck her and think of me instead?”

Jimin can’t take it and he pulls down the last remaining piece of clothing on him. His red cock springs free, precum leaking at the tip, and he pulls her underwear to the side. The young student teacher sighs, finally getting what she wants, eager to feel his cock, but instead, he plunges her fingers into her leaking pussy.

Ryujin cries out, pushing back on him and Jimin curls up his knuckles.

“Tell me what you want, slut,” he demands, feeling how tight and wet she is, practically sucking his fingers up.

“I...I want your cum, please, Jimin.” She becomes even more desperate when he begins to rub the head of his thick cock all over her slit while his fingers scissor her as if working to make room for him. “Please!”

Jimin swallows hard, unable to fight back his animalistic urges. “W-what makes you think I’ll give it to you?”

Ryujin is crying out, tears beginning to leak from her eyes. Her hair is in a disarray, no longer in a neat bun, strands falling in front of her face. Her blouse is wrinkled, bra shoved up, skirt around her waist. It’s obscene, dirty, and so entirely wrong, but she’ll do anything. “I...I’ll be g-good from now on….promise.”

He pulls his fingers out. She cries from the loss. But Jimin has his hand in her hair, yanking her to stand straight, flush against him. He mutters in spite, “I don’t think you’re capable.”

Ryujin is silent for a moment, which takes Jimin by surprise as he shoves his fingers deeper into her tight cunt. Then finally, she turns her head toward him, a demure yet sly smile on her lips. “You’ll give it to me because I’m the only one who can satisfy your nasty, animalistic needs. You think your wife’s loose, stuffed pussy can hug your cock the way mine can? Go ahead. Try it for yourself, and then you can tell me whether my pussy is better than your wife’s.”

Jimin shoves her against his desk, hitching one leg up on the surface. And he plunges his red cock into her weeping pussy. She holds her breath before whimpering at the stretch and he groans, slowly sinking in to savour the feeling. Once he’s balls deep, his hands hold her hips and he begins to fuck into her, deep and leisurely strokes. He shuts his eyes, immersing himself into the clench and his hand lifts, pushing back his hair out of his face.

“Please…” Broken words fall from the pretty girl’s delicate lips. Her toes curl, teeth sinking into her bottom lip, hands gripping the farthest edge of the desk. “Jimin. Want you to cum inside me.”

As she begs, he begins to pick up the pace. “So you can become pregnant too?”

“You’d like that right, baby?” Ryujin is moaning and panting, breasts bouncing obscenely from his thrusts. “I can promise you I’ll let you fuck me as hard as you want even when I’m pregnant. I’ll be so much better than your wife.”

He scoffs. “We’ll see about that.”

Jimin loves it, the way he’s absolutely defiling this pretty girl. No one would ever suspect it. In the morning, when everyone gathers around the Great Hall and she soaks up the praise of the other professors, seventh year students who chase after her skirt, but only he will have the pleasure of knowing that he was the one to fuck her. She always flashes the same smile, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear innocently. They all think she’s some shy virgin who’s never even been kissed or even held.

But Ryujin is a dirty whore.

She’s a temptress and Jimin’s just putting her in her place. If you knew, you’d be sympathetic. You’d understand. After all, how could you resist? And you’re pregnant with his child. He couldn’t possibly fuck you like this, or at least the way he wants to — hard and rough.

Just because he fucks someone on the side doesn’t mean he loves you any less.

“J-Jimin…” The vixen can feel him all the way to her throat. It’s a deeper angle than the times before when he spread and tied her up on her bed, when he tackled her on the floor of the greenhouse. She’s never felt him so raw and intimately like this before. “I-it’s t-too much.”

“Take it, bitch.” His fingers dig into the meat of her thighs, leaving their marks as he hikes her higher on his desk. “You asked for it.”

Jimin fucks her raw and harshly. She’s just a toy. It means nothing to him.

“Louder! You want everyone to know, don’t you?!”

Sobs of his name befall her pretty lips. She pushes back onto him, meeting his strokes. Her ass bounces every time he shoves himself back inside her. Ryujin begins to lose strength in her legs, but Jimin shoves her thighs apart again. “Spread your legs, doll. It’s the only thing you’re good at doing.”

Any guilt he feels, he shoves it down, fucking it into her. He expels his pent-up emotions, the fear of being a father, of commitment, of giving up his career for a family. Jimin’s sick and tired of wearing the same Hufflepuff smile, of pushing down his lust for the past six months. He finally releases it all, vigorously pounding into the temptress who trembles beneath him.

It’s dirty and disgusting. This is where students sit down with him, asking about homework or inquiring about class. Now he’s sure when he sees his desk again, he’ll see the girl spread out for him, her cunt leaking all over his cock and balls.

“I’ll shove my thick cock down your throat the next time you try to flirt with me, dirty whore.”

“Can’t help it,” she moans, hoping he’ll go faster and even harder, that he’ll mark her all up in fingerprint bruises and hickies, that he’ll cum deep into her womb. “Y-you’re mine.”

“What makes you think I’ll be yours, huh?” Jimin puts his hand into her hair, tugging on strands again, causing her to moan, ruining her dainty, little voice.

Ryujin has her cheek against the desk, wincing at the pain as Jimin fucks her hard enough to bruise her cervix. But the delicious stretch of feeling his cock ram into her pussy makes it all worth it. And the thought that Jimin has chosen her over his wife sends triumph soaring through her veins. “Because you’ll come back again and again for this tight little pussy. And you’ll come inside it every time too. It won’t be long till you fuck a baby into me. I got you now, Park Jimin. You’re mine.”

Jimin grunts hard as he ignores the truth in her words, instead focusing his energy into perfecting every thrust so that he bottoms out as deep as possible. “Next time you piss my wife off,” the low whisper rumbles between the four walls of his office, “I’ll break you. I’ll fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk for a month.”

Jimin spits into his hand. He rubs it on her ass and dips his hands into his own saliva, drenching the pad of his fingers to come around and rub her clit hard and quick. He flicks his wrist and there are cries and sobs of his name that echo out for the whole castle to hear. Ryujin finally cums, clenching around him, and Jimin gives three more strokes, milking her orgasm until he cums deep into her pussy.

He falls over her, cum leaking out onto his cock again and he makes sure to give a few shallow strokes, stuffing it deep inside her to keep until the next time they mess around again.

You scream.

Your body jolts. In a cold sweat, clothes sticking to your drenched skin, you wake up in the darkness. You haul yourself up to the best of your abilities, hyperventilating, hand on your chest where your heartbeat thunders in mortification and fear. It didn’t happen. It didn’t happen. It didn’t happen.

It was a nightmare. You were just dreaming again. Your mind and subconscious are making things up because of your stress and deepest fears. It was a nightmare.

You repeat it over and over again, murmuring under your breath, arms holding yourself. You rock back and forth until your breathing steadies. But when you look beside you, the bed is empty. Your husband isn’t here.

You end up crying yourself to sleep again.

*//*

When you wake, Jimin still hasn’t come back.

Everything aches. Although it’s not new to you at this stage in your pregnancy, you are more tired than ever. You practically slept less than an hour last night, nightmare after nightmare plaguing you, and everything is starting to take its toll.

You get dressed, feeling an urge to escape from the dark, empty bedroom to somewhere else that doesn’t remind you of your husband. It’s way too early for anyone else to be awake, but luckily a kind house elf from the kitchens brings you your latest craving of fried chicken and nonalcoholic butterbeer that you decide to bring to your office and stuff your face with.

When all else fails, food is the one and only consolation you have.

The warm paper bag emanates a deliciously tempting smell as you waddle toward your office, taking solace in the quiet and peaceful hallways. Even the ghosts aren’t out and about yet, so you feel no shame in stuffing a huge bite of chicken into your mouth as you approach your office. On the way, you have to pass by Jimin’s office, and you have to physically restrain yourself from bursting through the door to see if he really slept inside, or...

You can’t help but pause at his door, pressing your ear to the wood to try and discern whether he’s in or not. But then, a loud slam nearly makes you choke on your warm mouthful, but what you hear next makes you want to throw everything up.

“Oh M-merlin, harder! Give it to me harder!!” It is a familiar voice. It is light and tinkling, and it could only belong to one person.

Your dream flashes across your mind once more. Visions of naked sweaty bodies, Jimin’s vivid purple hair. You remember the way Ryujin was sitting on his lap that time you walked in on them — are they in the same position now? Or is Jimin taking her from behind, pounding into her pert ass as he bends her over his table? Would he paint her face with his cum like he used to do with you, or would he opt to cum all over her pretty pussy instead? You know Jimin likes seeing his cum on your body. Is he marking Ryujin’s slender, petite body with his cum this very instant?

Or maybe he’s giving her a baby too?

The thought makes you want to throw up, and you are physically unable to throw open the door and confront them. You are weak. The gruff moans continue to leak from the bottom crack of the door. The sound of whimpers, gasps, and obscene noise of wet skin slapping on skin echos into your ears. You’re frozen in your spot, feet rooted in the ground. And as your hand wraps around the brass doorknob—

“Professor _____?

You’re interrupted, body whipping around to Seokjin walking towards you with rounded eyes. “Is everything alright?”

“I….I’m fine.” You walk away from Jimin’s office and the Hufflepuff third year stops, turning to follow you. You quickly cast a wandless Muffliato Charm on Seokjin to distract him from the obscene sounds that are coming from Jimin’s office. “What are you doing awake so early? D-did you finish your essay yet?”

“No, oops.” Seokjin gives a sheepish grin and shrugs. You keep your eyes trained forward, stumble towards your own office. Before you can shut the door, you look down to the student. “I was investigating. You know that there has been several break-ins into all the offices lately?”

“Oh. Really? I… I didn’t know that,” you answer weakly as you begin to stride toward your office, feeling the eager young boy’s eyes on you. “Look, Seokjin, if there’s nothing you need, I need to finish my lesson plans.”

“Okay.” He smiles, bidding farewell and you close the door behind you and sink down onto your chair, bursting into tears almost immediately.

*//*

All through class, you can’t concentrate. Whether it’s the looming due date of your baby or the thought that you might as well be a single mother now, it distracts you so much that you have to take a break in the middle of class and excuse yourself so that you don’t break down in front of the students.

It’s one of your last few classes before you go on maternity leave. Earlier on you made a list of things to address with them before you hand them over to Ryujin, but it all seems meaningless now. The students seem to sense that you are in a worse mood than usual, so they are on their best behaviour, not a single toe out of line.

Taehyung stops you as you’re walking to the Great Hall for lunch. He seems to be in a good mood these days as he falls into step beside you, a wide square grin on his face, and there is a skip in his step.

“Stop showing off, would you? How nice it must be to have all that mobility,” you grumble at him, not in the mood to talk to anyone at all. But then going back to your shared room with Jimin would only make things worse, so you decide that you need to surround yourself with people right now.

“Hey, I wasn’t the one who decided to get knocked up,” Taehyung shrugs happily. “Blame your husband.”

“This isn’t the only thing he needs to be blamed for,” you mumble under your breath as Taehyung opens the doors for you and you head straight for the Professors’ table. Upset or not, grieving or not, the baby inside you doesn’t seem to care as it demands its daily sustenance. Your stomach is growling as you sit down and get ready to tuck into your meal.

Taehyung sits beside you and stuffs a large bread roll into his mouth before he speaks. “Hey, d’you wanna know something interesting? I did a reading on your baby. And from the looks of that, I think you’re going to need this.”

With a wave of his wand, a Gryffindor scarf appears around your neck, and you yank it off as if its diseased, tossing it to the floor in irritation. “A scarf? Why would I need that?”

“Not just any scarf, it’s a Gryffindor scarf,” Taehyung emphasises with a toothy grin on his face as he butters another roll. “I have this strong hunch that your baby is a Gryffindor.”

You only scoff in disgust at him as you match him with another bread roll stuffed into your mouth. “Why tell me something as useless as that? If you have that much time to be doing extra work, why don’t you tell me the gender of my baby instead?”

Taehyung starts to cut into the grilled salmon on his plate. “Oh…um, I haven’t learned how to do that yet.”

Despite yourself, you laugh at him as you take a sip of your pumpkin juice. But then, you realised who just entered the Great Hall — it’s a purple haired wizard and a young female professor. They are walking down the aisle, strides matching each other perfectly, looking like a blissful picture perfect couple as they beam at each other.

Nausea immediately slams into your gut, and you put your knife and fork down, pushing yourself up from your seat as Taehyung glances at you. “I think- I think I’m done with my food.”

“Great, then can I have the rest—”

But just as you’re about to leave the table, Jimin rushes up to you and stops you with a hand on your arm, gently leading you back to your seat. There is a sorrowful look on his face as he glances at your worn out expression, and guilt overwhelms him at the sight of you being so visibly upset because of him.

“_____… stay here and finish your food. I’ll leave instead, so just…eat up. You and the baby need it.” Jimin gently helps you back into your seat, and you reluctantly let him, glancing behind him at Ryujin who hesitates for a second before she moves to the other end of the table instead.

Back in your seat, Jimin places your knife and fork into your hand before he smiles sadly and turns to leave. Although your appetite is almost gone now, the baby still demands more food, and you can only watch your husband’s departing back as you put another forkful of food into your mouth, but it might as well be sawdust.

*//*

The nightmares don’t stop coming. In fact, they get more and more sordid with every night that your husband doesn’t return to your shared quarters. One night, Jimin is punishing Ryujin for her slutty, whorish behaviour. Another, he is deeply in love with her, begging her to have his baby instead and plotting to run away from Hogwarts.

The baby inside you shifts, as if sensing your depressed mood, and you smooth a hand over your belly. This is a moment that you and Jimin should be witnessing together. He should be in bed with you right now, pressing his ear to your belly and listening to the baby, singing songs to lull it to sleep when it kicks one too many times.

“I only have you now, right?” You whisper to the child inside you.

Taehyung has caught on to the icy atmosphere between you and Jimin lately, after what happened at lunch. But you refused to divulge any of the details to him for fear of breaking down in front of him, Merlin forbid. For now, you tell yourself, you just have to focus on the baby. Just get through these last torturous weeks by yourself, birth the baby, and then maybe you can go back to your parents and spend a few months there or something.

Just one step at a time. You calm yourself down with deep breaths, picking up your wand to cast a simple spell to conjure up a flock of birds that surround you with their cheerful song, flitting around back and forth. The background noise sets you at ease, and the room doesn’t feel so quiet anymore.

You have an established routine now. Go to bed alone, try to fall asleep for a few hours, end up getting at most two hours of shut-eye, wake at dawn, and go to your office to prepare for class. Throwing yourself into your work has been one of the more effective strategies of distracting yourself, your first love of Potions has always comforted you and reminded you of how capable you are as an individual. You can do this. You don’t need some cheating scumbag of a husband.

This morning as you walk to your office, the castle feels colder than usual, and you wrap your cloak around yourself tighter. Jimin’s office is, thankfully, quiet this morning and you breathe a silent sigh of relief. Not that it gives you any concrete reason to be relieved, as he could just as easily be fucking her in her bed, of all places, but you push the nauseating thought aside.

But as you approach your office, your stomach sinks and your heart nearly stops in your chest. The haunting, now familiar sounds of moaning and skin slapping against skin assault you once more, and this time you can’t tell if you’re dreaming, or if this is actually reality.

“Oh, harder, fuck, please, that’s so good,” Ryujin’s voice rings out loud and clear as she screams in pleasure. Accompanying male grunts follow, and she moans again. “Shit, yes, I— I want your cum, please cum inside me! I’ll- I’ll keep it all in my pussy like a good girl. Please—”

This has gone on for far too long. You have tolerated their shameless adulterous ways all this while. If Jimin wants to satisfy his urges with a younger, prettier and sexier witch, you can’t stop him. If he values your marriage so little that he’s willing to throw away both your baby and your future together, then you can’t stop him from making that choice, it’s all on Jimin. But what you won’t tolerate is this blatant disrespect for your personal, private space.

“Oh Merlin, fuck, you’re so good, so— fucking good, ahhh I’m gonna cum, gonna cum!”

A muscle in your cheek twitches. Your fist clenches.

Using your wand, you blast open the door with a Repelling Charm, hoping that the splinters get lodged in a very painful and unfortunate place for the both of them. The smoke from your spell clears up and enough is enough. Without a second to waste, you begin to scream “Jimin! What the fuc—!”

There’s a high-pitched shriek that comes from her. There’s a deep yell that comes from him.

Ryujin is bent over your desk, getting her brains fucked out and being pounded into, naked from her waist down.

But it’s not Jimin at all.

“_____?” At the sound of the familiar voice, your head turns, frozen in your spot.

Your husband is striding down the hall with Namjoon in tow, the two men quickening their pace to see what’s going on. His eyes are rounded with surprise and you whip your head back. What the hell?

The smoke has cleared. The air is crisp. “Stop staring!”

Kim Taehyung is still balls deep in the pretty young witch.

He panics, a deer in headlights, and he pulls out of Ryujin immediately, but his dick remains hard. Ryujin finally regains her senses and realises what’s going on in front of her fucked out face. The sweaty, younger witch still looks like a million Galleons even with strands of hair all over the place, her lipstick smeared on her lips and mascara running down her cheeks. Her eyes are widened with terror as she stares at you and her jaw drops to the ground.

“P-Professor _____! I— I’m so sorry, I don’t know what to say…” she stumbles over her words as she pushes herself into a standing position, forcing Taehyung to take a step back as he tucks his slowly wilting dick back into his pants. “It was—”

“What’s going on here?” Namjoon finally makes it to the doorway and when he looks inside, his eyes become owlish and he quickly looks away. “Merlin’s beard, what the fuck, Taehyung!”

The ache in your temples is growing more and more pronounced as your brain struggles to comprehend all this information. You press a hand to your forehead and blow out a sigh. “For Merlin’s sake, fucking get dressed, both of you.”

The couple scrambles to get all their articles of clothing in order— Ryujin has to summon her bra and panties from a faraway bookshelf, and you make a personal note to yourself to replace every book on that shelf, together with the shelf as well.

Jimin catches up, not bothering to see what’s going on. He automatically looks at you with his hand on your arm. “Are you alright?! Did you get hit by any splinters?”

“I-I’m fine.” You lean into your husband for support, barely able to get your words out.

Ryujin is mortified to death, apologizing every step of the way despite Taehyung insists that it’s not her fault. Namjoon is prepared to blast his eyeballs with an Aguamenti Spell to cleanse them and Jimin is as horrified as you are. It’s only until they’re finally fully clothed again that Taehyung becomes tired of the overdramatic reaction.

He rolls his eyes and reaches to grab Ryujin’s hand, making a bold proclamation of love despite her flushing from her chin to her hairline, “C’mon, we’re all adults here. Is it that difficult to believe we’ve been fucking ever since she got here?!”

*//*

It’s a private emergency meeting.

Everyone involved in the mess is gathered around the table inside the Headmaster’s office, seated in uncomfortable chairs. Jeongguk is in front while you’re beside Jimin. Across from you is Ryujin and Taehyung, respectively, and Namjoon has reluctantly taken a seat beside your husband.

It’s dead silent. The clock on the wall ticking back and forth is excruciatingly slow.

The student teacher witch is mortified and embarrassed, unable to look at anyone in the eye. Beside her Taehyung wears a blank expression, looking around the office, and Jimin is amused with his friend, a slight smile gracing his features. Jeongguk and Namjoon are unimpressed while your own mind is boggling.

There is silence….

Until the young Headmaster breaks it, a strained voice that’s all too stressed emitting from his throat, “since when did this start?”

“The night she first got here.”

Everyone except for the two on trial are surprised. Namjoon’s brown raises. “That early?”

“What can I say? I make my moves fast.” Taehyung smirks until Ryujin sends him a pouty glare that begs him to have mercy on her.

Wait a minute…..

Your mind flashes to the bruises you had seen on her neck. While you had assumed she got them at the greenhouse after paying a visit to Jimin, it’s entirely possible that she had them before that and you simply didn’t notice. “Then those hickies...?”

The witch turns to you with wide eyes and she swallows hard. On the other hand, Taehyung grins proudly, happy that someone noticed he made his mark. “You saw those?”

“Taehyung,” Jeongguk warns in a lower voice that this isn’t a joking manner.

The Divinations master mumbles a half-hearted— “sorry.”

In the meanwhile, your childish husband is holding back amused giggles and he’s reminded of an incident a few weeks ago. He turns towards Ryujin, all too curious. “Is this why you asked me for Hufflepuff robes? I was wondering why you returned them freshly washed.”

She doesn’t answer, flushing even more, and Taehyung clears his throat. “That might be my fault. I may or may not have missed my aim…..several times.”

“Oh for fuck’s sakes.” You pinch the bridge of your nose, taking control of the interrogation and inquiring what you’ve been itching to know. “Why my office?”

“We, uh….well...that...” Taehyung laughs awkwardly. “That might be my fault too. I wanted us to fuck in every Professor’s office before her temporary teaching stint was over. Yours was the last one.”

“Wait.” Your hands raise, palms out, asking him to slow down. “So the other day, what I heard from Jimin’s office was you two?!”

Ryujin has her eyes shut tight. “I’m sorry!”

“You fucked in my office?” Jimin has his mouth drawn open and you don’t know if he’s disgusted or genuinely impressed. Taehyung smirks at his friend.

Namjoon groans. “No wonder my stuff was rearranged so weirdly. And there was a horrid smell…Headmaster Jeon, can I have a new office please?”

“You two are the ones who have been breaking into professor’s offices?!” Jeongguk is leaning back, staring at the ceiling, in a state of disbelief and you wonder if he’s going to pass out.

“Mystery solved,” Taehyung responds with a smile.

“What would’ve happened if instead of _____, a student walked in on you?!” The Headmaster rubs his temples, thrown in absolute hysterics. You haven’t seen him this stressed out since he was put into this position at Hogwarts. Or maybe since your body switch fiasco with Jimin. “Oh Merlin. What about the rumours?! What if a ghost or someone in a painting witnessed it?! What would happen to our reputation if it was posted in The Daily Prophet?! How would I deal with the outcry of the parents?! Couldn’t you have at least done it in your private quarters?!”

“I’m sorry,” Ryujin apologizes again and lifts her head. “I know I just got here and I’m already causing trouble for you.”

“It’s not her fault,” Taehyung quickly intervenes. “It was me who insisted on it and planned the entire thing. It was just a stupid thing on my bucket list. If you need to punish anyone, then punish me, not her.”

Jeongguk gives up.

It’s goes eerily quiet again.

He laces his fingers together and inhales a deep breath. “Did you mess around in my office?”

It’s silent. The silence stretches on. And on.

Jeongguk lifts himself up. He looks at Ryujin who has diverted her gaze elsewhere. Then, he looks at Taehyung who is bold, staring. The two males lock their eyes together, simply glaring into each other’s pupils as if they are sharing a telepathic message. The Headmaster swallows hard and a weak voice spills from his mouth, “Taehyung….”

He delivers the news solemnly, “I’m sorry.”

“Merlin!” His arms are up in the air. “No wonder my phoenix burst into ashes a week ago!”

“Why is this such a big deal?” Taehyung finally explodes himself and his hand extends across the table towards you. “These two messed around in my office before! Ever since they got married, they’ve been going at it like rabbits! That’s why she’s like that now!”

Taehyung gestures vaguely at you, his hand in an up and down motion that you suppose indicates your pregnant state. Your hackles start to rise in indignation.

“Th-that…” For once you’re left sputtering. Beside you, Jimin snorts, muttering something about how he’s not wrong there but shuts up when you send him a deathly glare.

Namjoon sighs for the hundredth time. Jeongguk pounds the table with his fist. “We have private quarters for a reason, people! I’m going to have to give a seminar on relationships, aren’t I? I thought this was all common sense!” Taehyung smirks again and it blows a gasket in Jeongguk’s head. “Don’t you have any shame?!”

“Why should I?” Taehyung catches her hand into his, lacing his fingers with her’s, and lifting their tightly held hands. “I’m in love with her!”

Ryujin’s eyes nearly fall out of her sockets at the bold proclamation. “Y-you’re in love with me?”

Taehyung moves fast indeed. It’s only been three weeks since she’s gotten here. Leaning back in your seat with a slight roll of your eyes, you are content to watch the drama unfold right in front of you.

“I’m in love with you,” he repeats in proud confidence, albeit his voice is quieter. They gaze into each other’s eyes, an intimate moment despite the predicament that they’re in. “From the moment I saw you. Most people think you’re just pretty, but to me you’re more than that. You’re sweet, funny, charming...I think you’re so passionate about what you do and that’s attractive to me. And I love you.”

It’s obvious how smitten she is as well, and the two of them gaze lovingly into each other’s eyes, completely in their own world. “Taehyung…”

While the rest of you are just gawking at the two of them. You are completely unimpressed, Jimin looks as if he is almost proud of his best friend, Namjoon looks like he has a splitting headache, and Jeongguk… well, he’s about to follow in his Phoenix’s footsteps. A part of you doesn’t actually believe that Taehyung can love someone long enough to be in an actual relationship, but if that’s a risk Ryujin is willing to take, you can’t say anything about it.

You turn your head, facing the Headmaster and you clear your throat to catch his attention, deciding to finally give your review of her. “Ryujin has demonstrated stellar performance. I believe she will make an excellent Potions Master here at Hogwarts. As long as she keeps her private matters private, I find no reason to extradite or punish her in any way.”

If you were frank with yourself, you felt a bit guilty.

It’s understandable that Ryujin would have never told you about her relationship with Taehyung. By the second day, you were already cold to her and distant. You told her off too, warning her not to have any relations with professors here. You would’ve saved yourself a lot of heartache if you didn’t have so many assumptions and biases or jumped to so many conclusions.

At the end of the day, Ryujin hasn’t done anything horribly wrong.

A grateful smile spreads across the young girl’s face, tearing up from your praise.

“I agree,” Jimin pipes up beside you, glancing at his best friend. “It’s easy to get caught up when you start a new relationship.”

Your husband gives you a knowing smile that makes your heart feel fuzzy.

“As irresponsible as you were….” Namjoon pushes up his spectacles, giving his own opinion as the Head of Ravenclaw, “no students had caught them. No one was harmed either. As long as they take appropriate precautions from here on out and are more aware of their surroundings, there’s no need to give them an unusually cruel punishment.”

All Jeongguk manages is a sigh.

*//*

At the end of the day, the pair of you are still baffled and in disbelief.

“Who knew…” Jimin’s arm is around your waist, supporting your weight as you waddle down the hallway. He hums after some consideration. “But now that I think about it, it does make sense. Every time she talked to me, it was always related to Taehyung one way or another. I think she was trying to squeeze information out of me. And here I thought I made a friend.”

He laughs and the two of you enter your quarters. You don’t say anything and he stands by the foyer after shutting the door. He calls your name. “Are you still upset with me? Do...you want me to go?”

You turn around, cradling your stomach in your hands. “Where have you been going at night?”

“I…” Jimin scratches the back of his neck. “I’ve been staying with Namjoon.”

You frown, not understanding. “Why?”

“I thought you didn’t want to see me. I felt bad that you were having a hard time and there was nothing I could do to help you. I thought it was better if I was gone.”

“So you’ve been staying with him?” You take a good look at Jimin and you wonder why you hadn’t noticed how exhausted he appears.

“Yeah and I’ve been talking to him a lot. Namjoon gives me a lot of insight.” He swallows hard. “I know this is pathetic, that’s why I didn’t want to tell you. But...I’ve been nervous about having the baby and the whole fatherhood thing. I know I don’t deserve to be as scared as you are and that I should be strong enough to support you but—”

You shake your head. “You’re an idiot.”

“What?”

“I thought you were cheating on me!” you shout at him in wrath, but you’re not angry at him.

You’re angry at yourself.

Jimin stands there, shocked at how you burst into tears. He follows after you when you waddle towards the bedroom and onto the bed, taking a seat and crying into your hands. “What?” He approaches you slowly and kneels in front of you. “How could I?”

“I don’t know! I thought you were sleeping with Ryujin and I’ve been getting these nightmares and then I wake up and you’re not there—”

“I’m sorry.” He comes to sit beside you, reaching over to hug you and you bury your face into his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I-....I didn’t know that’s how you felt.”

“You idiot.” You hit him again, deciding your fists are better than the numerous hexes you have swirling in the forefront of your mind. “I thought our relationship was over!”

“I’m sorry.”

You’re crying, the hormones taking over, the tsunami landing on your shoulders. All of your pent-up emotions come crashing down and your calm facade breaks. “It didn’t help that I heard noises from your office and I thought it was you and her. And it doesn’t help that you haven’t had sex with me for the past six and a half months either.”

Jimin grimaces and pulls away. He cradles your face, wiping your tears with the pad of his thumb, placating you. A tiny smile appears on his face. “Do you think I could run off with someone else when I have you and your gorgeousness? Hate to break it to you, but you’re already a handful for me. I love you and our baby too much to even think about anyone else.”

You huff out. “Then why haven’t you been touching me?”

Jimin sighs and decides to be honest. There’s no point in hiding things anymore when it’s all being out and the open now. It’s better to be ashamed than to create misunderstandings and stress you out. “Because I feel disgusted with myself.”

“What?”

“I feel gross,” he admits. “When I look at you...a normal person would want to take care of you. I know I should be soft and gentle and attentive…..but during your entire pregnancy, I really just wanted to fuck you all the time.”

He pulls himself away, downcasting his head and looking at his hands like he worries he’s a monster. “You are the mother of my child, and yet all I could think about was bending you over the nearest surface and fucking you senseless. So I had to stay away from you. I’m…..I’m an animal. I’m sorry.”

Jimin’s confession floors you, and you feel your heart skip a beat. “You mean…you mean you wanted to have sex with me the entire time? You weren’t disgusted with…with whatever this is?”

As you say this, you gesture to your large, inflated body, belly so swollen that it comes in between both of you, and you can’t even reach to kiss him.

It’s Jimin’s turn to be taken aback, and his eyes widen in realisation as he takes your hands into his, bringing it to his lips and kissing them repeatedly. “What? Baby, no, I would never! It’s been the exact opposite. You’re becoming more and more attractive and sexy to me each day, I could barely keep my hands off you, didn’t you notice? And my dick gets hard every time I see your swollen stomach, and that time when you woke up with your breasts leaking milk all over your shirt, I had to run to my garden and jack off all over my plants.”

Your husband is humiliated and he groans at the thought, repeating it in shame, “My plants!”

“But you said—” your breath hitches as Jimin runs his hand over your swollen stomach tenderly. “You wouldn’t even let me suck you off. I just…I just wanted to make you feel good, and I know how much you like getting your dick sucked. Before we got married you had to beg me for it. Remember?”

Jimin chuckles against your skin, his cheeks rounding out in the most adorable way ever. You hope your baby has the same chubby cheeks. “I remember. That night in the classroom you said you wanted to suck me off, I could barely control myself and I ended up coming all over a bush of roses. Fuck’s sake, I was worried I couldn't control myself. It took me so much willpower. If I had let your pretty little lips get anywhere near my dick, you would have been bent over the teacher’s desk and stuffed with cock the next moment.”

“I want it,” you cuddle closer to him, raising a thigh and sliding it over his hip so that he can feel your heated core. “I want to be stuffed with your cock.”

You can see the reluctance on his face once more, but things are different now that you know it’s because he’s afraid he can’t control himself, rather than not being attracted to you in your current condition. You reach up to cup his rounded cheek, comforting him with a gentle kiss against his lips.

“Baby, I trust you. You’re Park Jimin, my husband, the love of my life. You could never hurt me or the baby,” you pull away from him and kiss his nose instead, smiling at him. All this time, you thought you were the only one ridded with worries when it turns out Jimin might have been more anxious. You reassure him, “you’re not gross or disgusting or an animal. And I’m not putting up with it it for you either. You’re not forcing me. I’m not doing it to satisfy you either.”

You say it loud and clear for his two brain cells to understand, exasperated that you’ve missed out on six months of good sex just because Jimin was too sweet to ask you for anything. “I want it. You trust me, right? I’ll tell you if anything doesn’t feel good. I promise.”

Jimin strokes his thumb over your belly as he kisses your forehead. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. It’s nothing I can’t handle. I’m a Slytherin, you know.”

He grins, worries finally put more at ease. “You know that doesn’t mean anything to me. Just because you’re sorted into that house doesn’t make you any tougher. You’re still my soft and sweet wife. Need me to remind you how you cried at our wedding?”

Your mouth draws open. “I thought we weren’t going to ever talk about that again!”

Jimin laughs, leaning in to plant a chaste kiss on your lips. He seems eager as he gets onto his knees. “And you’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever known. On your back, baby. It’s long overdue, but I want to worship you like the goddess you are.”

He helps you flip onto your back and in a position where you’re comfortable. Jimin starts by kissing you deeply, his tongue stroking against yours in the most erotic manner that has you already moaning and writhing under him. You want to feel his tongue elsewhere. Jimin smirks at your impatience, letting his lips trail down to your neck as he seeks out your covered breasts.

You help him to pull down the low cut neck of your camisole so that he can suck a swollen, puffy nipple into his mouth, massaging the other breast gently with his hands. Jimin feasts on the sight of your soft, sensitive breasts, sucking the nipple in his mouth and flicking his tongue to tease you even more, feeling sweet liquid burst onto his tongue once more.

“Just as sweet as I remembered from last time,” Jimin grins cheekily at you as he licks his lips sinfully, moving to the other breast to give it the same treatment. When the sweet milk fills his taste buds once more, he closes his eyes to savour the sweetness of it, moaning around your nipple as he drinks from your breast greedily.

“Jimin, ahhh-” you gasp and moan at the feeling of him eagerly suckling at you. “Th-that’s for our baby, you jerk. He won’t have enough if you’re being this greedy.”

He pouts at you, but draws away from your breast to scatter kisses all over your swollen belly instead. His lips are soft and they feel good on your skin.

“You know, I heard semen helps with stretch marks,” Jimin raises his eyebrows in a perverted manner as he palms his cock boldly. “Would you want to test out that hypothesis with me? I gotta say, the thought of cumming all over your round belly has been a fantasy of mine for some time. I jerked off to it that night in the greenhouse.”

Trust your horndog of a husband to manage to be both romantic and greasy at the same time. But two can play at that game. You smile an equally cheesy smile at him as you spread your thighs for him, showing off the wet patch on your panties. “That can wait, baby. I’d rather you cum in my pussy instead.”

That’s all the invitation Jimin needs as he helps you to pull your panties down, witnessing how your sticky juices cling to the crotch of your underwear in strings. He brings the saturated crotch to his nose, inhaling deeply. “You smell different from before.”

Your face heats like a furnace. “I-is it bad?”

“It’s better.” Jimin describes it as a thicker scent that’s concentrated and more like you. He swears under his breath before he tosses the fabric aside in favour of the source itself. He placates you with a few kisses to your inner thighs before giving your clit a flat lick, spreading your lips apart and getting his first good taste of you in months.

“Jimin- oh Merlin, fuck,” your back arches and your hips grind against his face, but you are impatient. “St-stop teasing. Want your cock, now.”

Jimin indulges himself in a few more licks, noting the way you taste even sweeter while pregnant before he shifts to lie against your side, figuring that this would be the least tiring position for you if he’s doing all the work. He kisses your neck, sucking deep bruises into your tender skin as he reaches between your legs to tease your clit with his fingers.

You reach back to seek out his cock, pushing his pants down impatiently and finding him hard and ready for you. Your mouth salivates as you grip his firm length in your hand, his warmth already spilling into your palm as you jerk him off with several test strokes.

Jimin slides a hand under your knee to lift your thigh for him. “This okay? Feeling alright?”

“More than okay,” you reassure him as he supports your thigh to open you up for him, using his other hand to guide his cock to your swollen and drenched entrance.

“I-I’ve been wet almost everyday, thinking about your cock,” you confess as he brings the head of his cock to your slit, teasing you with a few tiny little movements of his hips behind you.

“Have you?” Jimin murmurs against your skin as he finally allows his swollen, dripping head to breach your entrance. The first stretch has you crying out against him, your pussy clenching around his cock immediately. Having been deprived of sex all these months, your pussy feels like it’s being stretched wide open by Jimin’s girth, and you relish the burn of it as Jimin works his hips to sink into your cunt even deeper. “Can’t let my good girl go hungry without my cock, can I?”

Jimin sinks in all the way, and you let out a satisfied sigh when he is fully embedded inside you, right where he belongs. This feels right. It feels good.

“Ji-Jimin, you’re so thick, oh Merlin, fuck,” your mouth runs loose as he gently works his hips to withdraw from your pussy.

His slow and gentle pace hits you right where you need him. Jimin’s cock satisfies you so well that you feel as if you’re about to cum right away, even without much attention to your clit.

“Feel good, baby?” Jimin checks in with you as he lowers your thigh to rest on top of his. “Am I too deep? Should I pull out?”

“N-no, you’re perfect. You feel so, so good, pl-ease, don’t stop,” your mouth is wide open as you gasp for breath, chest rising and falling rapidly as your husband fucks into you with slow, deep strokes of his cock, one hand coming to rest on your pregnant belly to hold you closer to him. “Ri-right there. Pl-please, I’m gonna cum.”

“That fast?” Jimin chuckles against your ear, and it sends shivers down your spine. “I barely even started and you’re cumming all over my cock already? My baby must have missed me.”

“You have no fucking idea,” you pant as your hips push back onto his cock. You take his hand on your belly in yours and press it against your skin. “This baby missed you too.”

Jimin sinks his cock into your depths and remains there, tilting your chin back so that he can kiss your lips. “Daddy missed you too, little one. I missed you and your mother so much.”

Lying like this, his chest against your back with his cock buried balls deep inside you, and both of your hands wrapped around your swollen belly, you can’t help but feel as if sex has reached a whole new level of intimacy. You feel him so deep inside you that you’re not quite sure where you end and he begins, and as he begins to thrust slowly again, you reach down to fondle your clit.

“Need help?” Jimin presses a kiss onto your shoulder before he gently pushes your hand away. “I’ll do it. Let me.”

He pinches and flicks at your clit expertly, till he feels your walls start to clamp down around his cock as he keeps up his slow but deep thrusts. Every slap of skin against skin resounds in the room, Jimin can feel your arousal soaking his balls as he works to bring you to your climax. Your little moans and whines are music to his ears, pleas of his name fall from your lips as his cock presses against your filled womb, and you collapse around him.

Your orgasm washes over you as you cry out his name, thighs trembling and pussy quivering around his cock. The pleasure that you had been seeking for months now overrides all your senses, and you are on cloud nine as your husband helps you to ride out your orgasm, pulling out now and giving you shallow thrusts to prolong your ecstasy.

Jimin kisses your shoulder as you lie boneless in his arms, sweat dampening your body as you come down from your high. Just as he makes to pull out, you clench around him with your kegel muscles, taking Jimin absolutely by surprise.

“I’ve been practicing these, you know,” you grin at him. “It’s an exercise for pregnant women.”

“Fuck, you absolute minx,” Jimin can’t help but flash you a greasy smile as he reaches down to kiss you again. “That’s why I love you.”

“I love you too,” you mumble against his lips before pushing your ass back against him. “Now go ahead and finish. Don’t give me any crap about not wanting to hurt me. I want you to finish inside me.”

“How can I say no to that? You love it when I cum inside you, don’t you? It’s what got you into this state in the first place, my good girl,” Jimin’s hips surge forward once again as your walls clench around his cock. With you consciously tightening your walls, he’s brought to the edge in no time, desperate little whines leaving his plush lips as he thrusts into you slightly harder as his cock erupts, and he paints your walls white with his semen.

Jimin groans into your neck as his hips twitch, and you can feel his cock spilling more and more of his cum into your pussy. The feeling is warm and wet, and you reach back to play with his balls absently, feeling them twitch in your grasp as he unloads into your depths.

“You came so much,” you say to him, counting about ten spurts in total.

Jimin grunts again as his cock begins to soften inside you, sighing with pleasure as his blue balls from the previous months are finally relieved. He is already starting to leak out of your pussy as his dick slips out, and he pushes himself into a sitting position, helping you onto your back with your thighs spread so he can admire the view.

“So fucking beautiful.” Watching your pregnant pussy leak with his cum and seeing your rounded belly fills Jimin with the most joy he’s ever felt in his entire life. When you tighten your kegel muscles to squeeze out even more cum, Jimin groans under his breath.

“That’s so fucking hot,” he bends down to catch a glob of his cum on his tongue, swiping through your creamy folds to clean you up. His soft and wet tongue against your lips relaxes you, and you sigh against his touch, feeling more than seeing Jimin eat you out to another orgasm since your belly blocks most of the action.

When he’s done, his head of purple hair pops up from between your legs again, and he wears a cum smeared grin on his face. “You okay? Does anything hurt?”

“Come here, wanna cuddle,” you demand, and Jimin obliges immediately, spooning your frame with his as your eyes flutter shut. “Give me a second before we go again. I want a second and third and fourth round. To make up for all those months.”

A soft giggle bubbles out of his mouth onto your shoulder. “Yes, ma’am.”

For a moment you lie there, completely content in your husband’s arms as he traces meaningless patterns onto your belly. Then, suddenly you feel a foreign pressure on your lower abdomen.

It can only be one thing.

Your husband is almost slumbering behind you, completely unaware of this as you turn to him calmly, shaking him to wake him up.

“Jimin, I’m getting contractions.”

[Epilogue]

“There’s mail!” He announces, shutting the door and escaping from the snowy weather outside. Jimin removes his jacket and then his emerald scarf, hanging it on the coat rack beside your own yellow scarf. “Jeongguk wants us to bring the baby to visit. This is the fifth time he’s sent us a letter. He might send us a Howler next time.”

“Not a chance!” You shout from the living room. “He’s going to kidnap our child and make him the literal poster child for Hogwarts. We wouldn’t get him back until he’s eighteen.”

Jimin walks to the kitchen island and sets the newspaper aside, ripping open the envelopes. “That’s fine by me.”

“I heard that.”

In one of the envelopes, a moving picture falls out. It’s an image of Ryujin and Taehyung together, gathering the first years potion class to stand in a crowd outside the castle as each of the students hold a vial of what he recognizes as a Cure for Boils. There are drawings in the mail too, messages from the students at Hogwarts and how both you and him are dearly missed.

In the past few months, Ryujin has sent numerous letters asking questions regarding lesson plans and where certain ingredients are. A lot of the times, her questions come with baby gifts, like onesies or toys. Apparently the Slytherins, one of them being Yoongi, have been running amok in the castle too, giving Yuri a hard time. Jimin can only imagine the kids’ fear the day you return to whip them back into shape.

“Ryujin sent another picture!”

“Oh really?” Usually, you’d come running to take a look, but today you stay where you are. “Put it in the empty frame we have.”

“Will do,” he chimes out.

In the past year, you’ve settled down happily. Your cottage in Hogsmeade is cozy and quaint, the perfect home the pair of you could’ve asked for. To the point where you’re scared Jimin might not want to return to teaching since he’s so entirely content with everything.

It wasn’t all butterflies and rainbows. There were definitely hard times nights where the newborn wouldn’t catch a wink of sleep and only wanted to suck you dry of your milk. Your overbearing family came to help out, Jimin’s parents coming to assist. Sometimes you have students visiting when they visit Hogsmeade as well, though they always run for the hills after your kid pukes all over them. The only person who hasn’t been deterred is Seokjin who’s visited a handful of times. Though you haven’t opened the door for him the last two times since he’s always coming to talk about being Head Boy and giving you headaches.

Nevertheless, now that the baby was a bit older, ten months to be exact, things were a bit less chaotic.

Maybe you could call it peaceful — except your son isn’t calm at all.

From the time of conception to now, his existence is best described as a tornado. He’s always causing trouble for you no matter where he is or what he’s doing.

At ten months, his personality was beginning to show. He was stubborn and picky like you, but worse. If he was dissatisfied with the flavour of yogurt at breakfast, he would pick it up by the fistful and hurl it straight at your face as if he was an angry customer at a restaurant and you were his slave server. Like Jimin, your son would chuck books away when it had too many words and he absolutely hated storytime. But he was cunning, playful and flirtatious, leaving older ladies swooning when he flashes a smile that crinkles his eyes into half-moons. He was always smiling, knowing how to get people dancing in the palm of his chubby, tiny hand.

And your son has started to crawl everywhere at astronomical speeds. You can barely keep up with him. Once he starts walking, you don’t know what to do. But you can never get too mad when he wrecks havoc. The fact that your son is a spitting image of your pouty and loving husband is both a curse and a blessing.

“How’s our Sapling—?” Jimin enters the living room and then stops. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing, nothing.” But it doesn’t look like nothing. The baby is sitting up and there are four different cars in front of him — blue, yellow, green, and red. Jimin swears the green is closest to the baby’s hand. “Shh...don’t say anything, he’s deciding. It’s a very important choice. You can’t influence him.”

You say that even as you not-so-subtly nudge the green car closer to your son.

“He’s deciding?” Your husband plops down on the floor beside you.

“Which one?” you coo at your boy.

The child leans over, nearly toppling with the weight of his chubby cheeks. But he manages and both your breaths hitch together. Your eyes watch. And your son….he extends his hand...reaching…...for the car that’s….re—

You take the red car, swiping it before your son can and you chuck it across the room. It hits against the wall, making a small dent in the white paint and smashing to pieces. You grin, holding up the green car.

“GREEN! What a good choice! Green, right?! I knew it!”

The two of you laugh — you in hysteria and Jimin in amusement.

It doesn’t help that your son’s favourite stuffed toy is a lion.

Jimin leans over, planting a gentle kiss on your cheek. Your son crawls towards him, not interested in the green car, and Jimin lifts him up into his arms. He smiles, kissing his cheek too while standing up. As Jimin walks into the kitchen, he gazes at his son and whispers underneath his breath, “yellow, right?”

“I heard that!” you shout and your husband grins, a cheesy smile that’s not guilty at all.

“I love you!”

[phoenixwaller]

Realization

(content warning: description of an auto accident)

Yuri should have realized that he was in love with his best friend long before now. When he thought about it, the signs had been there for years, but he’d missed them over and over. 

In his defense, he thought that was just normal for friends. Friends were supposed to be close, weren’t they? After all, he didn’t have thoughts of doing gross things like the old man and Katsudon. 

But the more he thought about it, the more he realized that love was more than snogging at every opportunity and being overly domestic. 

Love, as Yuri had come to realize, was about wanting to be with a person just because that person was there, and wanting to never lose them. It was about making time to preserve bonds. It was about being unconditionally supportive when needed, and willing to deliver a swift kick to the backside when the other person was being stupid. 

He kinda wished Beka had kicked some sense into him sooner, even as he snuggled into his embrace. 

Maybe the first time he should have noticed was the summer after he turned eighteen. Beka had come up from Almaty for a couple weeks, and Yuri was glad just to have the other man around for a bit. 

They’d had to squeeze past a group of ogling tourists when Yuri noticed it. “Beka...” he asked once they were out of the crowd. “You smell different. Did you switch soap?”

Otabek chuckled softly, almost as if there was a joke Yuri didn’t get. “I ran out of mine, and no stores around here sell it. So I’m using the hotel soap.”

Yuri scrunched his nose. “I think I prefer how you normally smell.”

Otabek chuckled again, but said nothing. 

In his defense, Yuri thought noticing how a friend smelled was natural. After all, Mila and Sara always got overexcited when showing off their new perfumes. 

Beka’s lips were against his hair as he recalled the time when he was nineteen and had just won the Internationaux de France. Beka had come in silver, and they decided to celebrate by drinking. 

They went to a club Beka knew, and ended up dancing with each other all night, alcohol thrumming through him. But Yuri was still unaccustomed to drinking, and had been drunk by the time they left.    

Beka had been so patient, holding onto Yuri as they walked back to the hotel. He’d helped him into bed, and somehow managed to stay on his feet as Yuri tried to pull him down too. 

“Want Beka as a pillow,” Yuri remembered drunkenly mumbling. 

“Go to sleep Yura,” Otabek had replied softly, running a thumb over Yuri’s cheek. “You don’t know what you want right now.”

Yuri knew he’d been pouting even as he fell asleep. 

The more Yuri thought about it the more times stood out as examples of just how deep his feelings for Otabek ran. He couldn’t even pinpoint when his feelings of friendship had developed into something more. They hadn’t been that way at the beginning, they barely knew each other, but somewhere along the way he’d fallen in love without even knowing it. 

Yuri wondered how much longer he would have remained oblivious if not for an accident that left him terrified that he’d never see Otabek again. 

Yuri had just turned twenty a few days before, and despite Worlds being only a couple weeks away Otabek had come up to celebrate. 

Yuri shuddered as he remembered the accident, and how the world had seemed to slow to a crawl just so he could see every detail. 

Otabek, smiling and waving as he headed toward his rented motorcycle. 

Otabek, careful as always, checking his mirrors and blind spots as he eased the bike into traffic. 

The red sports car that came off a side street too fast, clipping the front edge of the bike. 

The bike spinning, and Otabek being thrown when he finally lost control. 

Yuri sprinted the fifty meters or so to where his best friend was sprawled unconscious on the road. “Beka... Beka...” he cried. “Don’t leave me Beka... I love you.”

Three words, and Yuri’s world changed, because he knew it was true. 

“Please Beka,” Yuri begged. “Please. I love you. Please be ok.”

A groan, and Yuri cried tears of relief as Otabek’s eyes fluttered open. Somewhere in the distance he could hear sirens. 

“Yura?”

Yuri choked back a sob. “Beka... I was so scared.”

“What happened?” Otabek asked. 

“That stupid driver in the red car clipped your bike,” Yuri growled. He lowered his head, tears falling onto Otabek’s shirt. “I was so scared Beka. I thought I’d lost you!”

“Yura...” Otabek said slowly, reaching over and taking Yuri’s hand. “I’m ok. Sore, probably bruised to all hell, but I’m ok. Everything’s ok.”

“Everything’s not ok!” Yuri cried. “You were spinning, then flying! It wasn’t far but... I love you Beka!” Yuri leaned his forehead against Otabek’s chest and heaved sobs of relief. “I love you... I love you... I love you.”

A hand on his back, the sound of rushing feet. 

“I know,” Otabek said softly. “I’ve known for a while.”

Yuri’s head shot up. “You’ve... known?”

Otabek smiled. “You’ve loved me for at least the last two years.”

Paramedics kneeling beside Otabek, but Yuri was lost to their words. Otabek knew. 

Yuri was numb as he rode along to the hospital. He fidgeted in the waiting room, even as the old man and Katsudon came in to be with him. He realized in what they didn’t say that they knew too. 

The only one who hadn’t realized that Yuri was in love with Otabek, was Yuri. 

The doctor cleared them to go back and visit. Victor and Katsudon made their visit brief, then it was just Otabek and Yuri together. 

“You... knew?” Yuri asked. 

Otabek smiled, and scooted over on the bed. He patted the empty space, and in that moment all Yuri wanted was to curl up in his arms. 

“I’ve known for a while Yura,” Otabek murmured as his arms circled Yuri. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“You weren’t ready.”

Yuri looked up into Otabek’s eyes, and somehow laughter bubbled up from inside. “I made my senior debut to a theme of unconditional love, but I didn’t even recognize it when it was all around me.”

Otabek laughed. “You’ve always been more prone to hissing at people than cuddling them Yura. I figured you’d get it eventually.”

Yuri buried his face against Otabek’s chest, and felt Otabek’s arm tighten around him. 

“Now what?” Yuri finally had the courage to ask, terrified that now that he’d crossed the bridge they wouldn’t be able to go back. 

“That’s up to you,” Otabek said softly. 

“What do you want?” Yuri asked in a timid voice. 

“I’d like to see where this goes,” Otabek replied. “I’ve been aware of my feelings for almost as long as I’ve seen them in you.”

Yuri’s face shot up. He studied Otabek’s expression, searching for the confirmation of what he thought he’d heard. “Beka?”

Otabek smiled. “I love you too Yuri. I’d like to be your boyfriend... if you’re ok with that.”

Yuri didn’t know so many emotions at once could exist. Tears streamed down his face even as he nodded. “Yes. Yes.”

Their eyes met, and there was a tension between them. 

Then the doctor walked into the room. 

Yuri glared at the woman even as she turned on a panel and stuck some x-rays to it. 

“Good news Mr. Altin,” she said, pointedly ignoring Yuri’s glares. “Nothing broken. You’ll be hurting for a few weeks, but you can probably compete if you’re careful with practice. You’ve mostly got bruises and only a few abrasions where your clothes tore. All in all, you’re very lucky.”

“Thanks doctor,” Otabek replied. 

She nodded. “I’m keeping you overnight for observation, but if there are no problems we’ll release you first thing in the morning.”

Otabek nodded and the doctor left again. 

Yuri curled up, resting his head on Otabek’s chest. 

Beka was going to be ok. 

“Yura?” Otabek asked.

Yuri realized he was crying. “Sorry,” he replied, wiping his tears. “Just relieved.”

Otabek smiled, then ran his fingers under Yuri’s chin. 

Yuri’s breath caught in his throat, and he found himself starting at Otabek’s lips. 

Then they were kissing, soft and sweet. Yuri’s senses were overwhelmed: Otabek’s smell, the coarseness of slightly chapped lips, the warm mouth against his own. He found he had to close his eyes just to focus on everything else.

Otabek sighed as the kiss ended, and Yuri opened his eyes in surprise. 

“Beka?”

Otabek smiled. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while.”

Yuri smiled and shifted to be closer to Otabek. “Then don’t stop now.”

Otabek smiled and claimed Yuri’s mouth once more. 

Once they’d got it out of their systems Yuri settled down in the circle of Otabek’s arms, grateful that the accident hadn’t been worse. “I love you,” he murmured, tasting the words as they left his mouth. 

“I know,” Otabek replied with a chuckle. “I love you too.”

Yuri smiled and snuggled against his boyfriend.

Yuri still couldn’t imagine being as gross as Victor and Katsudon, but maybe snogging wasn’t so bad after all. 

[ironinkpen]

Yuri On Ice, “lovesick”

Summary: In which Yuuri worries, Viktor’s on the good drugs, and Yuri puts up with a whole bunch of bullshit. Inspired by this video.

Rating: T

Pairing: Victuuri

***

Yuri returns from the bathroom to find Yuuri hunched over in his chair and furiously typing away on his phone.

“Katsudon.”

Yuuri’s head snaps up. “Okay, I know what you’re going to say,” he says, because Yuri has had this same conversation with him three times over the course of the past hour. “But his heart monitor started beeping faster and I got worried but I didn’t want to bother a nurse in case I was being silly, so-”

Yuri snatches the phone out of his hand and looks at it. On the screen is some Japanese website. He can’t read it for shit, but he can pretty much guess the content of the page based on the helpful little picture of the man clutching his chest in the top right corner of it.

He groans. “For the last time, he’s not having a fucking heart attack, Katsudon.”

“I know that!” Yuuri takes the phone back, frowning down uncertainly at the webpage. After a moment’s hesitation and a pointed prod in the side from Yuri, he closes it. “I was just… checking.”

Yuuri has been “just checking” various websites for advice since Viktor had gone into surgery. Every few minutes he’ll look up at Yuri, make a face like he kind of wants to throw up, and then get right back to scrolling. Yuri had thought it was funny at first, but after having to talk Yuuri out of calling the doctor to book an MRI for Viktor because he’d somehow stumbled on a page about brain cancer while looking for threads about appendectomy complications, he’s beginning to find it annoying.

He’d thought Katsudon would simmer down now that Viktor was out of surgery, but no. Apparently he’s just graduated to heart disease.

His own phone trills in his pocket. Yuuri blinks up at him and the two make eye contact and reach something of an impasse. Yuri squints. Yuuri presses his lips together. Then, sullenly, he puts his phone down on the bedside table.

Yuri thumbs his lockscreen open to find a text from Mila. It reads, how’s babysitting duty??

He eyes Yuuri again. Now that he’s without anything for his hands to do, he’s taken to wringing them together and staring sullenly at Viktor, who sleeps on, utterly oblivious.

well, he replies, if viktor doesn’t wake up in the next five min I’m pretty sure katsudon’s going to give himself a stress aneurysm

and i’m about two seconds from throwing his phone out the window

but other than that it’s been whatever

His phone pings almost immediately. xa xa sounds like a good time

you have to admit though, it’s cute how much he cares

Yuri glances up to find Yuuri brushing the hair from Viktor’s eyes and sighing like a lovesick idiot. Viktor makes a face in his sleep, turning into Yuuri’s touch. Yuri swallows a gag.

it’s obnoxious you mean

they’re literally both disgusting and one of them isn’t even CONSCIOUS

Mila sends a string of sparkly heart emojis. Then, oh also yakov wants to know how viktor is

Yuri rolls his eyes and tries to find a good angle to take a picture of Viktor that’ll look as unflattering as possible. If everyone is so determined to worry about the idiot despite the fact that the surgery was perfectly safe (but Yurio, a voice that sounds suspiciously like Yuuri whispers in his head, what about this comprehensive list of things that can go horribly, horribly wrong that I found on a forum written by a bunch of paranoid hypochondriacs in their 40s-), he’s determined to give them something to worry about.

The plan falls apart quickly, though. Viktor is infuriatingly photogenic, even after getting his appendix ripped out. It doesn’t help that Yuuri is also in the frame, staring at him like he’s a sleeping god or something.

Yuri frowns and sends the picture anyway. like I said, he’s not dead

unfortunately, he adds as an afterthought.

thanks!!

he also wants to know how yuuri is

besides the stress aneurysm thing

Of course he does. Somehow, Yakov likes Yuuri for some weird reason, despite the fact that he’s technically a rival skater training right under the old man’s nose. In fact, if Yuri had to hazard a guess, he’d say that Yakov’s probably more worried about Yuuri right now than he is about Viktor. His main concern with Viktor is just how long he’s going to be out of practice to recover.

he’s fine, Yuri replies. he’s just being annoying

yakov wants to know if he’s been eating

oh my god just text him yourself

Wait, no. He glances up at Yuuri’s phone, which is still on the bedside table. actually  don’t do that, if he picks up his phone he’ll start freaking himself out again

aw yura, you DO care

what no

he’s giving me a headache

i don’t give a shit about him i don’t even want to be here

georgi and i volunteered to go with him instead, you know

and yet………….

Yuri scowls, cheeks pinking. shut the fuck up, hag

He receives several sly face emojis in response, followed by another string of hearts. Yuri sends her knives, and is about to get creative with his death threats after receiving a kissy face when there’s movement from the bed.

Viktor moans. Yuri looks up right in time to see him wake up.

“Wh…?” His eyes are hazy and glassy as they roll around the room. They eventually settle on Yuuri, of course, because Viktor’s shameless like that. A grin stretches across his face, slow and lazy. “Hi.”

“Viktor!” Yuuri scrambles onto his feet. “You’re awake!” He doesn’t seem quite sure what to do with himself, fluttering between Viktor and the door like a drunk, confused bird. “I should call the nurse.”

Viktor’s voice is hoarse and dreamy and far away. He keeps staring at Yuuri with a gross look on his face. “Mm, yes, you should do that.”

The nurse has evidently heard Yuuri’s squawking, because he’s there before Yuuri can actually decide whether or not to leave the room. He smiles at Viktor and very calmly informs him that he’s in a hospital, that he just had surgery, and that he may be confused for a little while thanks to the anesthesia. None of this seems to mean anything to Viktor, who just bobs his head up and down and continues to stare at Yuuri instead of the nurse. They also don’t mean anything to Yuuri, whose Russian still sucks ass. The nurse tries to hand him a pack of saltines and he stares at them like they’re nuclear codes.

“He says to give Viktor the crackers and that he’ll be back in a few minutes,” Yuri says, annoyed at having to translate.

“Oh! Yes, of course,” Yuuri says to the nurse in clumsy Russian. “Crackers. Yes.”

The nurse pats him on the arm before leaving, looking sort of sorry for him.

Yuri turns his attention back to Viktor. He’s smiling and humming now. It’s mostly nonsense but some bits sound suspiciously like Katsudon’s Free Skate from last season. Disgusting.

“Viktor,” says Yuuri, fluttering back to Viktor’s side. “Let’s eat a cracker, okay?”

“Anything you say,” Viktor rasps. Yuri gags.

Things get a little more fun when Viktor tries to actually eat the cracker. He paws at it with clumsy hands and only manages to actually grasp it after three tries. When he finally takes a nibble, he immediately groans in pain.

“Ow,” He hiccups. There’s a long silence as he tries to figure out how chewing works. In the end, he just swallows the entire piece and takes another sullen bite. “Ow.”

Despite how worried he’d been before, Yuri sees Yuuri smothering a smile. “Are you alright?”

Viktor immediately brightens at the sound of Yuuri’s voice. “I am now,” he coos, and holy shit can he maybe not for two seconds?

Yuri’s phone buzzes in his pocket. He swipes it open to find another text from Mila. yuri?? i think yakov’s serious about the whole eating thing

he says he’ll go to the hospital himself to check if you don’t answer soon

yuri?

Instead of replying, he sends Mila a video he took of Viktor trying to figure out how to hold the cracker. She sends back a chain of crying face emojis and a demand for more blackmail material. As if she had to ask him to keep recording this train wreck.

“Can we sit up?” Viktor is complaining to Yuuri when Yuri turns his camera back on.

“In a minute,” Yuuri says, squeezing Viktor’s hand and ugh. “You keep eating your cracker and I’ll see if they can lift you up, okay?”

“Okay,” Viktor says back, though he makes no move to actually eat the cracker anymore. He’s blinking up at Yuuri again with that stupid look on his face. “Wow… you are eye candy.”

Yuri’s lip curls in irritation. Yuuri turns to him, looking hopelessly confused. “What? What did he say?”

Ugh, right. They’re still speaking in Russian. Well, if Katsudon expects him to translate that, he has another thing coming. “He says you’re disgusting.”

Yuuri looks absolutely unphased and unsurprised by Yuri’s response. He just turns back to Viktor. “Viktor,” he says in his clumsy Russian. “Can we speak English, please?”

“English?” Viktor echoes. Then, in English, “Oh, right. I speak that.”

“Yes, you do.” Katsudon replies, the words flowing easier now that he’s not butchering Yuri’s mother tongue. He grabs the hand Viktor is holding the cracker in and eases it back towards Viktor’s mouth. “How about we keep eating that cracker, okay?”

Viktor decides to not do that and reaches his free hand towards Yuuri’s face instead. “You’re gorgeous.”

Jesus.

Yuuri’s face turns bright red. “Wh-”

“Did the doctor send you?” When Yuuri doesn’t reply fast enough, since he’s still gaping like a fish, he turns to Yuri. “Did the doctor send him? Because wow,” He drops his arm and presses his hand to his chest like the dramatic bastard he is. “You’ve got to be the prettiest man I’ve ever seen.”

“Oh my god,” Yuri groans. “Is he hitting on you?”

“He doesn’t know who I am,” Yuuri says, because obviously the two of them are focusing on two very different aspects of this situation. “Oh, no, maybe I should call the doctor-”

“No, beautiful, don’t go!” Viktor whines.

“The nurse said he’d be confused,” Yuri snaps before Yuuri can go and Viktor can start getting really annoying. “So calm the fuck down and just tell him to stop flirting with you.”

Yuuri blinks at him. “Well, the flirting isn’t really the issue-”

“It is.”

“Come back,” Viktor complains, tugging on Yuuri’s sleeve with the cracker-less hand. Yuuri turns back to him, glances towards the door, and then sits back down. “Yay! I missed you!”

Yuuri smiles despite himself and maybe Yuri should have let him leave. Viktor crying about Yuuri not being there would have been preferable to dealing with the two of them making eyes at each other. “Sorry for worrying you. I’ll be right here with you, okay?”

“Yay!” Viktor crows again. He takes another bite of the cracker before something occurs to him. “What’s your name?”

Jesus, he’s like a drugged child trying to hold an adult conversation.

“My name is Yuuri,” Yuuri responds with infinitely more patience than Viktor deserves. Vitkor’s face lights up.

“Yuuri,” He parrots. “That’s such a pretty name. You’re so pretty.”

God.

“Thank you.” Yuuri’s smiles like a fucking schoolgirl instead of doing something to stop this nonsense. Yuri hates both of them so, so much.

Viktor reaches towards Yuuri’s face with the cracker hand. “Yuuri, we should do something after this.”

“Oh my god,” Yuri groans.

“We should- we should go somewhere.” The idiot gets so excited about the idea that he clenches his fist, pieces of cracker dropping right into Yuuri’s lap. “It’ll be great.”

“We’re going home after this, Viktor.” He brushes the crumbs off of his legs and rescues the rest of the cracker from Viktor’s hand, depositing it in the garbage can next to the bed. “Maybe we can go out after you feel better, okay?”

Viktor frowns. “Okay,” He says. “But you need to give me your number then so I can call you later.”

Yuuri’s eyes are soft and gooey and gross. “Don’t worry about that. You already have my number.”

Viktor blinks at him. “I do?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.” There’s a pause as Viktor thinks this over. “Do I… know you?”

“Yes, you do.” Yuuri brushes the hair out of Viktor’s face. Then – fucking finally – he says, “We’re married.”

The realization dawns on Viktor slowly. It’s like watching a big, stupid sun come out. When it finally hits him his jaw drops open. “You’re my husband?”

Yuuri can’t seem to stop smiling. “Yes.”

“Oh my god,” Viktor turns his gaze to the ceiling, big, wide eyes trailing around the room as if looking for an explanation for all of this. When he doesn’t find one, he turns back to Yuuri and looks at him like he hung up the stars. “Really?”

“Yes, Viktor.”

“Oh, wow.” He reaches out for Yuuri again, probably aiming to do something stupidly romantic like cup his face or something but only really succeeding in smooshing Yuuri’s cheek with his palm. “Wow,” and he drags out the “ow” sound for a long, long time. “That’s amazing.”

“You mean awful,” Yuri complains. Viktor’s eyes flick to him before popping wide open.

“Are you our son?”

“Holy shit, no!” He whirls to Yuuri, whose shoulders are shaking with laughter. “Shut the fuck up, Katsudon!”

“We don’t have any kids, Viktor,” Yuuri just barely manages to smother the laughter into a wobbly grin. “We only got married a few months ago.”

Viktor looks overwhelmed. “We’re married?” He repeats, because he’s apparently stuck on that.

The grin softens into a smile. “Yes, we are.” Yuuri scoops up Viktor’s hand and shows him the rings on their fingers. Viktor stares at them.

“Wow,” He says, his voice littler this time.

Yuri tilts his head heavenward and prays for a meteor to strike him down or something. Instead what he gets is a glimpse of the nurse, who is standing in the middle of the doorframe and looking very, very amused.

“I came to check in,” the nurse says. Yuuri jumps a good five feet in the air. “Did he eat?”

Yuuri looks down guiltily at the cracker that’s still in the wrapper on the bedside table and at the garbage can. “Some.”

“That’s fine,” The nurse replies. He’d probably expected Yuuri’s incompetence. “While Mr. Nikiforov recovers from the anesthesia, we can go over out-patient care together.” When Yuuri looks at Yuri in distress, the nurse says, in heavily accented English, “You are taking care of him, yes? I have the procedure.”

“Oh! Of course.” Yuuri stands. Viktor whines and tries to tug him back. “I’ll be in the room, Viktor. I’m just going to talk to the nurse.” Then, as an afterthought, he presses the other cracker into Viktor’s hand. “Eat this in the meantime, okay?”

“Okay,” Viktor says, staring up at Yuuri like he would commit murder right now if Yuuri told him to. He takes a tiny bite of his cracker and says nothing else as Yuuri and the nurse huddle together to go over the forms.

Yuri stops recording and tries to decide what to do with the video. If he sends it to Mila, she’ll post it right away, and he wants to be the one to do that. It’s definitely too long to go on Instagram, but is it too long to go on Twitter? Maybe he should trim out the gross parts before he puts it anywhere.

“Keep eating the cracker, old man,” He says when he looks up to find that Viktor has stopped chewing in favor of ogling Yuuri. Yuri hates him. He hates them both. Fiercely.

Viktor doesn’t acknowledge him at all. He keeps staring at Yuuri.

“Wow,” he says to himself, pure wonder on his features. “How did I manage that?”

The corner of Yuri’s mouth quirks up traitorously and he bites his lip to stop its ascent. Not that really it matters. Viktor’s too busy being all gross to notice him smiling.

***

[somewhereelsenow00]

on the off-chance

Summary: In which Victor learns to live without the other half to his whole; set 3 years after their wedding; will be told in 8 parts (will be uploaded to AO3 eventually) Warning: extremely angsty; prepare tissue

Read part 1 here

2. ordeal

“You could come by without having to empty half my wine rack, you know.” Christophe stood to one side of the room, arms folded across his chest with a half-hearted smile. It was well past midnight and he was dressed for the occasion in a loose silk bathrobe and fuzzy white slippers. Victor threw him a pointed glance but popped the cork off the bottle anyway, filling a glass almost to the brim. Christophe sighed melodramatically, moving toward one of the sofas and throwing himself onto it. “You could talk some. Perhaps it will ease the pain.”

“I’ll be able to talk when I’m piss drunk,” Victor said in a flat tone before gulping down the 2010 Louis Chavy with gusto.

“Mmm. I’m always a fan of your snark, since you never show it to your ravenous audience.” Christophe raised a hand in a lazy wave. “Pour me a glass, won’t you?”

“Are you feeling picky tonight?”

He let out a breathy laugh. “Two things, Victor,” he said, “one, you’ve impeccable taste in wine and two, I can smell the Chavy already. Good, that one.”

Victor filled another glass and brought it to him. “Never knew you were inclined toward… delicate flavours.”

“Oh, please, you flatter me.”

“It wasn’t flattery.”

“All the same.”

Victor went back to the rack and returned with two more bottles. He hadn’t taken a good look at either of them, but he knew that Christophe always kept his favourites on the lefthand side. Seventy per cent chance they were both going to be good. Judging by Christophe’s sparkling eyes, he was right on the mark. He settled back into another sofa across Christophe and took another generous gulp.

They sat in silence for a while, sipping at their wine in the dim light of the mini bar and the slices of moonlight that fell on the dark wooden floorboards at their feet. Victor felt no urge to say anything, and he was grateful that Christophe wasn’t grilling him for details. He came here for good wine and good company and… a change of pace. He’d been “moping around too much,” as Yuri had put it. To his defense, it hadn’t exactly been moping, per se. He’d been… thinking a lot. Walking. Cycling. Mostly jogging. He had done a few laps at the local pool. Tried following some Pilates regimen he’d seen on TV. Then at night, he would drink and drink and drink until god knew what hour. Rinse and repeat.

So maybe drinking at Christophe’s place wasn’t exactly a change of pace. Maybe he could admit that. But this was the first time he’d sought someone’s company since… His fingers unconsciously drew toward the makeshift chain around his neck. The one that held two promises on it in two gold bands. They felt cold against his skin.

Christophe shifted in his sofa, straightening up and reaching for the Chavy and refilling his glass. “Do you…” he said, choosing his words carefully. “Do you remember the last time you came here? That one night, years ago, when you practically squeezed me dry of every bottle I had?” When Victor said nothing, kept looking wordlessly at some vague point beyond the floorboards, Christophe forged ahead. “That night… Do you know how much it meant to me? That you, Victor Nikiforov, would come barging into my home and asking—no, begging for a drink? In all honesty, I was dumbstruck.”

Victor let out a short laugh, soft and quiet. “I remember that.”

“You haven’t touched your skates.”

He rolled his shoulders back and took a slow breath. “Yuri told you?”

“Him? No. It was Mila. She’s been uncharacteristically worried.” Christophe swirled the wine around in his glass. It was dim, but Victor could make out the somber thoughtfulness in his eyes. Mila wasn’t the only one who was uncharacteristically worried. “It’s been a month since Yuuri went back to Japan and you’ve done anything but skate. It’s miserable to see, really.”

“I’m on break,” Victor waved a dismissive hand. “I’m not even supposed to be in the rink.”

“You know this is different. And besides, once you’ve tasted the cold glory, you never can escape it.” Christophe flashed him a smile that caught in the moonlight. “You think best on ice, just like we all—”

“I don’t need the ice, Christophe,” Victor snapped. “I need Yuuri.”

“Bit early to jump to conclusions,” Christophe commented, unfazed by the outburst. He took a long sip of his wine. “Though of course, it’s a bad habit of yours to begin with.”

Victor couldn’t say much in retort to that. He was a man of impulse, from the very first day he’d stepped on ice until today. He was still prone to the push and pull of his heart, that emotional tug-of-war he always wrestled with. For a while, he’d been able to lock it away and ignore it. At the height of his career, it had only ever been unnecessary baggage. But the moment Yuuri had drawn him in with that sultry dance and brilliant, sparkling eyes, he had broken that lock and unleashed a tidal wave of emotion he’d never felt before—not even after his best performance. Victor Nikiforov acted on impulse, on instinct, on childish hope and wishes upon a star.

Christophe seemed to see that. Mostly the “childish” part.

“Are you drunk enough to talk now?” he asked innocently.

“I’ve already been.”

“Talk more, I mean.”

“Maybe.” A lie of course. It would take a couple more bottles for that to happen. But somehow, he felt like a coil had loosened up inside him. He felt a bit more willing to speak, if only to lay everything out to piece them together into some sort of answer that he could never come up with on his own. He held his glass in both hands. “I… don’t know what I should do. He had some therapy, but he just couldn’t handle it. He hated being away from home. Even when his family flew over, he couldn’t settle down. He looked like—like a lit fuse. Waiting to explode. He just… couldn’t find the right moment.” Victor felt tears pushing up the back of his throat. He pushed the glass into his lips and swallowed a mouthful of wine. Christophe held out the bottle and helped him refill his glass. “He was scared, Chris. And I could do nothing. I had to”—he bit the inside of his lip to keep his voice from cracking—“I had to pretend I’d found him at the accident. I couldn’t stay near him. You should’ve seen the way he looked at me. So… So…”

“Terrified?” Christophe supplied.

“Confused.” Victor’s hands shook, spilling a little of the wine on the floor. He muttered an apology, but Christophe waved it off. It took him a few moments to collect himself before continuing. “He knew who I was, but not why I was… It felt wrong to him. I could see it in his eyes. Me standing there at his bedside was wrong to him.” Perhaps it was the wine, but he felt a bit of fuzziness in his head. It made the tears come quicker than usual. He held them back with sheer willpower, even biting down so hard on the inside of his cheek that he tasted copper. “So I watched. I just… watched him go through mind-numbing hours of therapy. I watched him despair over how much of his memory he lost. I watched him cry. I watched him swallow his tears and be strong for his family when they came over. I watched him leave with them without turning back.”

“Victor…”

“I watched and I suffered and I even got gold for it.” He thumbed out the chain, bringing the gold rings into view. They tinkled softly in the moonlight. Victor watched them for a while and laughed bitterly. “Not the best kind of gold medal.” He let go of the chain, letting the rings fall against his chest. He could feel Christophe’s sad eyes on them.

“Have you talked to his family? Figured out… any way you could make this work?”

“They’re so kind,” Victor said wistfully. He started shaking his head. “So, so kind. I love them and how they always make me feel so welcome. They tried to convince me to come to Hasetsu with them. They told me Yuuri would get his memory back in no time. That there was no reason for me to stay away.”

“And why didn’t you go with them?” Christophe asked softly.

“Because it wouldn’t have been right.” Victor grit his teeth. “I would never… force Yuuri into anything.”

“Even remembering you?”

His breath hitched and he had to cover his mouth as his lips quivered. “It hurts him,” he said thickly. “I hurt him.”

“You love him,” Christophe corrected. “That’s a hell of a difference.”

Victor was shaking his head again. “I… I won’t do that again,” he sniffed. “I won’t… force myself into his life again like that. The way I did, when he didn’t remember me… the first time…”

“You know that’s not what happened, Victor.”

“No, Chris, I’m not going to pretend that I did him a favour! It was stupid. Impulsive. I wasn’t thinking straight.” He drained his glass and reached for the bottle again. “I didn’t even stop to consider how he’d feel.”

“That’s a lie,” Christophe cut in. “You didn’t decide to do that overnight. You’d been thinking it over for months. You watched every competition he skated in after the Grand Prix. Stop trying to convince yourself that you did something stupid because you’d be saying that everything—everything—you and Yuuri went through for the past three years was stupid.” His gaze bore into Victor’s eyes, searching for something that he, apparently, couldn’t find. Disheartened, he put his glass down and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “I feel like nothing I say is getting through to you,” he sighed. “Which, strangely enough, I should be used to, but, like anyone who has ever grown to care about you, I’m not.”

When Victor said nothing, Christophe pressed his lips together into a thin line and reached for the wine bottle. It was almost empty. “Most of the time, I wonder why I retired before I ever took the gold from you.” He paused, but Victor was making an effort not to make eye contact. Whatever meaningful gaze Christophe was trying to give was lost on him. It wasn’t his fault that Christophe had left the ice last year. In fact, it was a wonder in and of itself that Victor hadn’t followed suit. In any case, Christophe seemed to sense that his look wasn’t being returned or acknowledged. “Don’t empty the wine rack,” he said again, getting on his feet with a half-grunt, half-sigh. “It was hard enough trying to figure you out before Yuuri.” He threw one last glance over his shoulder before he left Victor alone. “I think it’s safe to say that right now, I know you only about as well as he does. Which is to say, not at all.”

The last comment was likely more to spur Victor into motion than actual spite, but with the alcohol dulling his senses, he was all but responsive to direct hits. After Christophe walked out of the room, he poured himself another glass from the second bottle. It was going to be another long, lonely night.

—

Yuuri was at that proverbial edge. If he was being perfectly honest, he would’ve jumped off a long time ago, the moment he’d opened his eyes and seen Victor Nikiforov waiting at his bedside. He wanted to take God by the throat and throttle him. Wasn’t it enough that Victor had to see him completely humiliated at the last Grand Prix Final? Wasn’t it enough to throw him into the deepest depression he’d ever been in since he’d left home for Detroit? Apparently not. Apparently, God found it funny to manipulate his life into the most cruel twists of fate possible.

He was angry. Furious. But he was also perpetually exhausted. He didn’t have the energy or even the motivation to lash out, to release even the slightest bit of his pent-up emotion. And so it all built up inside him, just like it always had, waiting for the opportune moment to go off and break him apart. He was terrified of what would happen then, but he was such a horrific mess that he couldn’t think of anything but that. He felt like a dam with a hundred million micro-cracks and he was hyper-aware of each and every one.

His door opened slowly, creaking in complaint. He winced at the noise, but kept perfectly still on his bed, facing the wall.

“Yuuri. Dinner is ready.” It was Mari. She was dropping by his room more and more often these days.

“I told you to knock,” he replied shortly. He was a bit relieved that it wasn’t his mom. At least Mari didn’t ask too many questions.

“I did knock. You weren’t answering.”

He paused. “Oh. Sorry.”

There was a long awkward moment of silence between them. It pinched at Yuuri’s conscience, making him relive every single moment that he’d acted this badly toward his own family ever since they’d come back from Russia, which was practically every single second he’d been with them. He knew he was being unfair. He knew he was being a complete and utter asshole. He knew all too well, but he couldn’t help it. He felt like the worst human being on the entire planet and he really was. He was pathetic, making his sister—stoic as she normally was—angry like that. And even then, she wasn’t trying to call him out. She just seethed quietly and let him feel the bubbling rage beneath the surface of her impassive face.

It was a waiting game, to see who caved first. Something that they’d done ever since they were babies. Maybe they were still babies, even now. It would explain how childish he was acting. Anyway, he told himself, what did it matter? What did anything matter anymore? He was just a stupid, washed-up figure skater who’d made a laughingstock of himself in front of the entire world.

“You know, Yuuri,” Mari said, backing down first and giving Yuuri mixed feelings of satisfaction and shame, “You’ve been through this before, this kind of slump thing.”

He didn’t answer. Of course he’d been through slumps. Thousands of them, in varying shapes and sizes. This one was as big as a whale in his stomach, flopping and singing a discordant song of grief inside him. Did Mari know that? Did she understand just how big this “slump thing” was? Maybe she did, considering that she knew three whole years of his life that he didn’t.

The thought made the whale shudder and he pulled his sheets tighter around himself. A few weeks ago, he’d been twenty four. Now he was twenty seven. Back then, making a comeback wasn’t completely out of the question. He was sure that he’d be able to push himself back up somehow. But now, even that seemed idiotic and the stuff of dreams.

“… Okay. Fine. I’ve had it. I give up.”

He froze, stunned. Mari was… giving up? Giving up on him? He smiled bitterly. Of course she was. Who wouldn’t give up on the most pathetic, snivelling failure of a brother they’d ever had the misfortune of having? It was a miracle she’d even lasted this long. He waited in morose silence for her to leave and slam the door shut behind her and tell the everyone in Kyushu to give up on him, too.

But she didn’t. Instead, he heard the sound of his chair scraping against the tatami mats and his laptop starting up. He sat bolt upright to find Mari logging into his account with ease (maybe “victornikiforov#1” was too obvious?) and scrambled out of bed, only to get tangled up in the sheets and fall flat on his face.

Mari looked over her shoulder at him and pursed her lips before turning back to the laptop. “I know you’re on a media blackout sort of thing right now,” she said, eyes trained on the screen. “And that nobody’s supposed to tell you about what’s missing.” She brought up a search on Youtube.

Yuuri felt a spark of curiosity flare up within him. Everyone who knew had been dead silent about the blank slot in his memory, and the best clues he got were the saddest of expressions from his mother and Minako. His doctors had warned him not to go force the memories to resurface by looking for them and he really hadn’t been so curious—he didn’t want to know just how badly he’d screwed up that he’d actually forget it all thanks to trauma. But now, suddenly, he felt different. He wanted to know. He was tired of being left in the dark. He crawled up to Mari’s side and pushed himself up onto his feet. He squinted at the screen, the bright light hurting his eyes that had become accustomed to the darkness of his room.

Yuuri Katsuki Skates to Stammi Vicino (Victor Nikiforov’s FS)

Mari made sure that he didn’t see the recommended videos on the side of the screen as she pulled it up to fullscreen.

“This is the most I can give you,” she said, sliding off the chair and offering it to him. “If you tell Mom, I’m going to pulverise you.”

“I won’t,” he promised, sitting down.

“This is the last time I’m going to tell you what to do,” Mari said, leaning over to hover the mouse over the play button. She clicked it and the video began. She straightened, smirking. “You have to get back in that rink.”

Read part 3

[vesperia-ship-bitch]

A New Beginning

This was started a month or so ago with Nightfoot's encouragement (@nightfoot, the one who likes to write torture and shit). I swear I'll keep writing it eventually. This is the written version of Nightfoot's plot skeleton that she was never gonna get around to writing, and I swear she gave me permission to write it. And get this shit -- it's not porn! This fic includes: fluff, adorableness and purity. Enjoy! --- Honestly, Flynn could have never seen this coming. To be honest, Flynn had always held wishes for a simple life. Something where he would be able to balance his average job (hopefully at least in the Public Quarter) alongside spending time with his average wife, and his beautifully average future children, with his ridiculously average and reckless best friend poking in every now and again. Normalcy had always been something he’d craved, longed for, because complications were often too much for him to handle. By the day since boyhood, he’d made plans for his life in the form of messy drawings that Yuri would make fun of him for and his mother would pin to the walls of the kitchen in pride, so it had been something ingrained in him that he would be able to live a peaceful life upon reaching his adult years. But….what kind of fool would he have been to think at such a young age that he would grow to become the youngest commandant in history. To think that his best friend, the brash Yuri Lowell, would have the biggest hand in saving the world from what could have easily been utter destruction. To think that Flynn would be able to request the hand of the princess in marriage--much less expect her to say yes. The mere thought of it all swarmed in his head in somewhat of a nervous fit as he stood by the base of the great tree of Halure, dressed in a simple, yet nice outfit that worked well to hide his purpose there in that little town, but also show himself in a more presentable state than normal. By a stroke of luck, Yuri had managed to talk the mayor into allowing a private ‘meeting’ for the afternoon, secluded enough that no one would be able to know what was going on unless they were allowed beneath the tree to witness. Flynn was more than certain it was because both the commandant and the princess (not to mention the savior of the tree) were involved, but he didn’t question. Instead, he’d chosen to appreciate the effort Yuri and his guild put into organizing the event, despite how he did want some decision in how things were handled. “Hey, there. Getting jittery already?” Flynn’s shoulders jumped as his thoughts scurried away, his blue eyes shifting to recognize Yuri clapping a hand on his arm in welcoming. For once, he, too, was dressed appropriately; Flynn was aware that the particularly elegant outfit Yuri wore was not the latter’s favorite, but Flynn was quite certain that it looked nice on him. Fitting. Estelle had called it ‘dashing’, but honestly, Yuri was anything but that. Stubborn, maybe. Insufferable. “Don’t black out on me, now.” Yuri’s voice brought him back again, and Flynn let out a sigh. “Sorry,” he responded, shifting and adjusting his posture. “I guess I am getting a bit nervous. Not that you’d understand.” Mock offense lit up Yuri’s eyes and his hands raised defensively. “What, you think I’m not going to get married? I’m hurt, Flynn. I didn’t think I was that ugly.” Flynn let out a snort, already able to feel himself relaxing despite himself. Whether he admitted it or not, he did appreciate Yuri’s attempt at easing his nerves. “You, settling down? I’d likely die first.” A rather rare smirk crossed his lips as he closed his eyes, turning his head. “I doubt any woman would be willing to put up with you at this point.” “And I doubt you’d be able to find a woman to put up with that stick up your ass if this one cancels on you last-minute. Let’s hope that thing won’t get in the way on the honeymoon. It’d ruin all the...interesting positions.” Flynn’s cheeks flared red and he shot Yuri a glare, lips parting to offer a retort. However, the two of them were interrupted by the gentle sound of an unfamiliar voice clearing its - his - throat. “Gentlemen? We are prepared to start.” The officiant. Flynn’s chest tightened with a mixture of excitement and apprehension as he shifted, respectfully bowing his head and following behind to get into his proper position, Yuri standing by his side. It was a common sense decision to pick Yuri as the best man, and Estelle...well, Rita was her obvious choice for a maid of honor. By the time that Raven, Karol, Judith, Rita, and Repede had all arrived, Flynn had gotten into position with a somewhat queasy look on his face, which Karol couldn’t help but laugh at until Rita smacked him upside the head to shut him up; apparently, her abuse just showed how serious this was to her. Yuri snorted at the display, but didn’t move from his spot beside Flynn. Once Rita had gotten into position across from them, the officiant gave his cue to begin, and Flynn’s heart began to race in his chest. Today, there would be no music, nothing fancy and no massive banquet. Today would be a simple, sweet wedding, something free of the complications of his everyday life. It would be something to remember specifically for its peaceful atmosphere, and Flynn could appreciate nothing but that. His eyes closed and he breathed in the sweet, floral air to calm his nerves, reopening them as the sound of ginger footsteps against the grass came into earshot. Never was there a sight that took Flynn’s breath away as much as the one he was blessed to have seen in that moment. His senses gave out for about everything except for the throbbing of his heart as Estellise finally made her presence known, approaching the base of the Great Tree with slow, practiced steps. Bashful green eyes lifted to meet bright blue, and Flynn’s heart melted at the sight of petals the same shade as her beautiful hair fluttering down from the tree as they had been all week--but in this moment, it was the most wonderful gift nature could have given him. He found himself getting dry in the mouth as she smiled at him, wearing a soft white summer dress with an ornate design scrawled up the hip and across the underside of her left shoulder akin to that of lilies that reached just below her knees; somehow, he preferred this much more than any of the elegant and fancy wedding gowns he’d imagined seeing instead. She was stunning, and if the way he stared like a child meeting his first crush didn’t speak volumes for her, he wasn’t sure what else would. The vision of her walking toward him like an angel stepping down from heaven itself seemed stuck in his mind, because before he knew it, Yuri was nudging his back with an elbow gracelessly and snapping him out of his haze to see that the man who was to marry them had already begun to speak. Flynn turned as Estelle took his hand, returning her smile with all of the confidence he could muster, because yes, this was really happening. As familiar words tumbled into his ears, he tightened his grip on her smaller hand and let the last of his nervousness fade. It had been a faster ceremony than he had first thought. It had still taken an hour or so, but it was nothing compared to the royal wedding they would have in the next few days, so Flynn had taken his blessing without protest. When they kissed to seal their matrimony, he’d distantly heard the flat-out sobbing of Raven, whose composure had long since been lost and was reduced to being comforted by Judith. “You kids are gettin’ to be too much for this old man’s heart,” he’d wailed, and Flynn was somewhat touched by his emotional response; joke or not, (probably not, judging by the look on Karol’s face) it was heartwarming. Even Rita, apparently, had been too overtaken by the event that she didn’t swat at Raven or snap at him to shut up; instead, she was wiping her face--and only then did she snap at Yuri to shut up instead, for he had patted her back in a display of pure smug sympathy. Still, the odd expression even he had carried was one to remember; Flynn could not remember a time that he’d seen Yuri looking so happy. They had eaten together after the ceremony to celebrate, which involved quite a bit of alcohol for Raven and Yuri, for Flynn had managed to weasel his way out of downing too much. Their time together ended up dragging on into the late hours of the night, until they had parted ways into their own rooms at the inn after Raven had passed out (leaving Karol straining to drag the old man to Brave Vesperia’s room while Judith and Yuri had stayed out a while longer), and Flynn finally had his opportunity to pull Estelle close to him, pressing his face into her neck after the ginger kisses they’d exchanged to curl up and fall asleep together. For such a luxuriously simple wedding, Flynn could not have felt more pleased with the turnout. When Princess Estellise and Commandant Flynn had returned to Zaphias a few days after their official wedding day, preparations for the royal wedding had been completed. Flynn had been forced to wear a suit far more pricey and flashy than he ever would have liked, and Estelle had worn an elegant white and lavender gown with an impossibly long train trailing behind her, a tiara resting atop her neatly styled hair. Under the watchful eyes of every official and higher-up of the Empire (as well as several prominent Union members that had been invited), they were once again wed. Flynn had felt a mixture of pleased eyes resting upon himself and his wife as well as displeased stares burning into the back of his head, but he ignored them all, for once again, he got to relive the wonderful reality of marrying his beloved. While he was enjoying himself and doing excellently to sell that this was their ‘official’ wedding, he had easily seen the glimmer of thrilled mischief in Estelle’s eyes; he knew that she was pleased to be tricking the masses with such a ploy. It was utterly cute, in his opinion, but voicing that any time later would have gotten him a huffy response from the princess. For the days after their second wedding, Estelle continued to spout on about her grand experience deceiving the entirety of the Empire, and Flynn could do nothing but smile at her lively expressions. After the festivities, their honeymoon had been in Nam Cobanda, where they were both more than happy to spend their time alone curled up in the warm sands of the beach and discuss things they never talked about in Zaphias. How one day, Estelle would have liked to sleep in a bed in Myorzo again, (but with Flynn so he could understand just how outstanding it was to have such a large and wonderfully soft bed that acted as a floor for half of the room) or how Flynn still failed to understand why Nia fruit had become a delicacy in some parts of the world when it tasted so acrid and disgusting on his tongue. They had laughed and bickered about normal things for once, things that never often came to mind when they were with each other, and it was nice. During their trip, Estelle had refused to let him work at all, which was a bit disappointing. “It’s our honeymoon. If I’m not working, then you can’t, either,” she’d pressed sternly, and so he had given into her demands without much protest. After all, he did like when she put her foot down. Regardless, he had been chomping at the bit to get home after the first few days, until Estelle had finally admitted she was alright with returning to Zaphias after they’d stayed at least another day or two, so she could enjoy watching the sun rise and set without worrying about other things with him. Flynn gave her that without much protest, because the look in her eyes had been so demanding, and his heart had long since waned to give her what she wanted. Still, he was adamant to get home after those two allotted days. After all, he had work to do as the commandant, and a stand-in or an absence of such a position wouldn’t do past a week or so at best. Estelle had understood this easily, because she knew how serious Flynn was about his job. Yuri had often described it as, again, ‘the stick up his ass’, but Estelle could never call it something that bad. Well...sometimes, she disagreed with Yuri’s wording, anyway. Other days, she would simply smile and laugh instead of protest the description, leaving Flynn to defend himself from such claims. That was a cute display for her to watch, especially when his butt stiffened up like the metaphorical stick had shifted. On the day of their return, she had slept with her head in his lap for most of the way home, leaving his fingers to gingerly comb through her pink hair while he watched her peaceful expression with a soft smile. Upon returning home, they would have quarters to share, things to discuss as a couple, and a massive workload. However, as his fingers gently brushed her cheek, he decided that the coming stress would be okay. Such a drastic change in his life would be welcomed this time around.

[glowingbadger]

May I request sfw and nsfw hcs Yuri x Male Reader on their wedding night? I just wanna see soft Yuri with his husband- (bonus points if Yuri’s husband is bottom-)

Awww how lovely, soft and sexy Yuri coming right up~

Come to think of it, like I said- I'm in the middle of wedding planning myself rn, so by all means, y'all should send me wedding headcanons and prompts for your F/O's~

Yuri (FE3H) x AMAB/Masc Reader

Wedding night headcanons

SFW (nsfw below the cut)

- Yuri had initially figured that, should he ever wed, he would more or less elope. But the more time passed, the more he felt truly connected to those around him, and perhaps with a bit of your encouragement, he does start to think that at least some kind of celebration with your mutual friends and allies would be nice. Plus, Balthus is eager for a chance to drink himself silly, and Constance insists upon the propriety of holding a formal ceremony. So, perhaps less begrudgingly than he wants everyone to believe, Yuri goes along with the whole wedding banquet thing.

- That said, it is still quite an exclusive event. You may be surprised at first that Yuri doesn't see this as a chance to do some "networking" post-war, schmoozing with local nobles at a lavish banquet for the benefit of himself and his goals. But when asked, he wears an unusually serious expression and runs a gentle hand along your cheek, "This isn't about business, darling. It's about us. If I lost sight of that, then I could hardly consider myself worthy of a man like you."

- He stays true to this throughout the night itself. If he's nervous at all, he doesn't show it- from his vows, spoken with clear conviction and an easy smile, to the dancefloor, where he holds you close as he leads you, seemingly oblivious to the eyes watching from all around. While your friends and comrades are eager to congratulate you and spend time as a group, Yuri only indulges them to a degree that still allows him to stay at your side. You're his absolute top priority, and he won't have anyone distracting him from his time with his husband.

- Everything is in excellent taste, if Yuri has anything to say about it. Custom tailored attire for both of you is an absolute must, and of course they'll be not matching, but coordinated to compliment one another. He's not over-the-top by any means, but he'll ensure that the 'mood' and the aesthetic are just right. He finds a lot of the trappings of traditional noble weddings to be garish and tacky.

- I don't have much of substance to add to this point, but Yuri will absolutely threaten the life of anyone who makes a mess of this special day at knifepoint. Even his 'less genteel' friends who may have been invited will know that you are to be addressed with the utmost respect.

NSFW 18+ v

- Frankly, your first night together as a wedded couple has been on Yuri's mind for some time. It's oddly arousing to him- the idea that a roguish charmer like himself would settle down, and be fortunate enough to have such a sweet and lovely spouse. He can't wait to have you in his bed and call you his beloved husband while you look up at him with those gorgeous, lustful eyes. As such, he's going to direct you to his quarters the first moment he can justify excusing the two of you from the festivities.

- "So then- how shall we spend the 'first night of the rest of our lives,' my dear?" he says with a cunning gaze and a quirked eyebrow as he gently guides you back against the wall, "As I understand, among the nobility, it would be customary to consummate our union." Still, for all of his teasing, when he kisses you, it's with an overwhelming tenderness that makes your knees weak and your heart race. He cups your face in both hands, and his tongue massages yours like he's already making love to you.

- As eager as Yuri is to claim his new Husband, he'll start slow with you, helping you out of each article of refined clothing and pressing his lips to each inch of skin that's gradually revealed to him. Then, after a moment to admire you with openly loving eyes as you lay beneath him, he'll lower himself between your thighs and take you in his mouth. He's resolved to service you with his lips and tongue for as long as you like tonight- he wants to spoil his darling spouse, so he'll slowly work his way up and down your length until you're moaning his name and bucking into his throat. Then, at last, he presses a lingering kiss to the tip of your cock and softly says, "Now then, do you think it's time I make you mine, darling?"

- Normally, Yuri likes to take you from behind, squeezing and spanking your ass as he pounds into you. Tonight, however, he tells you to stay on your back. After directing you to coat his cock in lubricant (perhaps enjoying your hand pumping his length for a bit longer than is necessary), he positions himself between your thighs, spreading you open beneath him.

- His surprisingly strong hands keep your legs propped up for him as the tip of his cock begins to push into you. You both moan in unison as he begins with short, gentle thrusts, easing himself ever deeper into you, careful not to hurt you. "How does your husband's cock feel, darling? Mmm... you always take me so well. You're so gorgeous, moaning while I stretch out your cute little hole..." he goes on with a teasing lilt in his voice- but his eyes are glued to your expressions, watching you with open adoration.

- Yuri fucks you at the same luxurious, yet varied pace that he tends to prefer, but his touch is gentler and so much more tender than it tends to be. He kisses you deeply, his tongue pulsing sensually against yours, before pulling away to focus entirely on your mutual satisfaction. His hand begins to stroke your cock, gently at first, but soon a bit rougher, a bit faster. The tip of his manhood drags against your deepest point, now that you've had to adjust to holding him inside of you. With the head of his cock stimulating you from inside and his dexterous hand jerking your member, he'll eventually watch as you cry out his name, arch up from the bed, and spill your cum across your stomach. Yuri gives an appreciative hum at the sight and leans forward, fucking you in earnest now.

- The chance to take you in a position that shows him your wonderful, pleasured expressions as you cum and still continue to take his cock, combined with the emotional high of finally being joined with you fully, all drive him to his climax before much longer. He groans your name as his cock throbs and flexes within you, then shoots a truly impressive load into you. It's more forceful than usual as well- you can feel his cum hitting your insides with each powerful wave, until he utters a sigh of relief and begins to pull out from you.

- Yuri is generally a little tentative about aftercare, being the independent sort himself, but tonight, he positively spoils you. He has a scented bath prepared, and takes his time running his soaped hands across your body, kissing your neck and face, and praising you for how good you are for him and how lucky he is to have such a perfect husband.