#hate those angsty slow burn au fics

[hollowdeath]

professor potter

pairing: harry james potter x fem!reader AU (18+)

summary: 2 years after the war, harry accepted a position as a substitute professor at hogwarts and recognized you from his years as a student. old feelings come to the surface as you both try to remain professional to keep his position safe.

content warning: slight teacher/student dynamic (they used to be classmates, reader is 18+), mostly slow burn & angst. smut mostly doesn't happen til the end (masturbation, penetration)

word count: 12.5k

a/n: wrote this for fun between working on requests! thank you to everyone who sends them in, they're so good and i'm excited to post more soon! just another fluffy, angsty harry fic taking place in school w a hint of smut...kinda similar to my last one but thats ok ! as always not exactly book/movie/canon accurate i apologize !

it's your first day of your last year at hogwarts, and you're probably the only student here that's not completely thrilled to be back. young witches and wizards running around you in the halls with their robes dragging on the ground, completely in awe with each other at the architecture and moving portraits.

you have to admit, if hogwarts does anything right, it's the ambience. probably the only thing you'll miss after leaving this year is the magic castle itself, particularly the library and your dorm room, which have been your sanctuaries for the past 7 years. there's just no place in the world, even the wizarding world, you've found, that quite compares to hogwarts.

but no, unfortunately, not even the grandiose castle of every young wizard's dream was enough to make you want to stay here even a day longer than you had to. and trust, you were counting down the days.

there was a lot that went into your disdain for the school. after the war in your 5th year, nothing had been the same. sure, the building was restored to its original form and even had some upgrades installed, but the energy within the walls felt so…unsettling.

it had been more than 2 and half years since then, and most students who remember the war well had either graduated or moved on from it. you, however, continued to feel the effects of it every day.

you've had a lot of personal struggles since then mentally, which affects your social life. you've overheard your friends talking about how they don't feel like you're the same person and you inevitably bring them down. it wasn't long after that they stopped talking to you completely. you didn't bother to rekindle the connection; you were ready to leave this place behind anyways, what was the point in faking a friendship for another year?

even without all that, you truly just hated your classes. you actually used to be a scholar student in your day, consistently making the top of the headmaster's list every year until the war. and you still loved headmaster mcgonagall, of course, you don't think that'd ever change, it was mainly the other professors that gave you a hard time. once you showed signs of struggling and burn out, it was like they just completely gave up on you and moved on to the next eager, bright-eyed bushy-tailed 1st year to dote on.

no matter, because again, you were ready to leave for a variety of reasons. even if you had loved your professors and graduated at the top of the class, you still had no friends to celebrate with. and even if you had those so-called "friends" back in your life, you still felt completely alone with them.

and so you laid in bed, the same bed you've had for 7 years now, retracting the ornate trim on the ceiling like you have a million nights before.

you decided to look back at your schedule once more, floating the paper out of its folder in your bag and towards your open hand. you read through it slowly, but nothing had changed. pretty much the worst line up of classes you've had so far. particularly your least anticipated course, defense against the dark arts.

at this point, you'd had more than enough when it came to the dark arts. those death eaters nearly killed you in that war, and actually did manage to kill too many of your classmates and teachers in the process. you saw your second home crumble in front of you, classrooms you grew up in completely leveled and the bridge burned to the ground, so much death and destruction over nothing but power. you resented the dark magic in this world.

sighing, you set the paper down on your bedside table and roll over, attempting to fall asleep. you have plenty of early classes this year and don't look forward to having to wake up with the sun to make it to them on time.

you're wasting time in the bathroom just before your defense against the dark arts, your last class of the day, when your peace is interrupted by a group of girls who come in giggling and talking rapidly amongst each other. from inside your stall you can't help but tune into their gossip. it's the only thing you could hear and, who cares, you could use some good drama.

you tried to dissect their conversation but they were constantly talking over each other, squealing, giggling, and you couldn't understand a thing. after a few moments of craning your neck towards the door to get a better listen, one girl's voice stood out amongst the rest as she asked, "okay, but, who's going to try and flirt with potter first?" her question was followed by many desperate "me!" "me!" "me!"s, a wave of giggling following.

potter. there's no way…

the bells begin ringing, signaling your next class is starting soon, and the girls go rushing out of the bathroom together. you slowly open the stall door and walk to the closest mirror. pale, like you've seen a ghost.

they couldn't possibly be talking about harry potter, right?

just his name had become plenty famous in its own right. the boy who lived; the boy who lived twice. you hadn't heard his name mentioned in a long time, though that's not hard when you've hardly interacted with anyone here in a long time.

you remembered harry from your years before the war that you had shared with him. he was 2 years ahead of you, so it wasn't often you had the chance to speak with him, but he was pretty much as legendary as one student could be at hogwarts. however, whenever you did manage to have a conversation with him, you always thought he was cute. really cute.

okay, so maybe you had a ginormous crush on him your entire time at hogwarts. but so did pretty much every other girl. but you didn't just think he was cute, you admired his gentle nature and timid personality. despite his heroic and outright dangerous adventures, he was always so kind, so humble…

the bells begin ringing again, meaning you're now late to class. "shit." you mutter, grabbing your bag and stumbling through the bathroom door.

you're jogging to your dark arts class with a racing mind, still wondering why those girls would mention potter's name so randomly.

you turn the corner and see the classroom door is already closed. "shit." you mutter again, stomping your foot. now you have to open the heavy doors and draw everyone's attention towards you, quite literally the last thing in the world you want right now.

sighing, you push open one of the doors, making the loudest noises you've ever heard echo throughout the silent classroom. you walk in and, as expected, all eyes are on you.

you grit your teeth and close the door behind you, making your way towards an empty seat in the middle of the room. the silence lingers as your footsteps hit the ground, trying your best not to make eye contact with anyone. you hear a few snickers and whispers coming from behind, and you can already tell it's your old friend group. you roll your eyes, sighing as you drop your weight into the creaky wooden seat.

you hadn't realized, but headmaster mcgonagall was at the front of the room. you noticed once she continued talking, looking up to see her smiling at you. you returned it. you love how she's always liked you despite your grades slipping lately.

you quickly look back down at your hands as people begin to turn away from you, drawing their attention back to mcgonagall as she continues to introduce the class.

"like i was saying, class, we apologize for the change this semester and hope you'll be understanding of us as we navigate this situation carefully. i suspect you'll all be respectful and courteous to our guest as he donates his time to hogwarts and to you, our students."

you look back up, a confused look on your face. what change? what situation? what guest?

it didn't take you long to connect the dots. it's like everything was in slow motion. the girls talking in the bathroom, the guest, the reason all the front rows of seats in class were completely filled with girls…

"please, class, welcome hogwarts' very own, mr. harry james potter."

all at once, your eyes landed on harry, who had been sitting to the side, obscured from your vision by several girls and a pillar. as he walks towards mcgonagall, eager applause erupt from the girls and the boys offer mediocre claps. you're too stunned to react, watching harry intently as he shakes mcgonagall's hand with that same timid smile.

you can hardly believe your eyes. what is going on? why is he here? and how the hell does he look even better now than he did 2 years ago?

"thank you, headmaster mcgonagall," harry says shyly, turning to the students. his eyes immediately fall on you. you try to convince yourself he's looking just in front of you or even past you, but you can feel his stare into your eyes. its the only thing that breaks you out of your shock.

you blink a few times and slump into your seat, feeling your blood run cold at harry's eye contact. he looks down at the desk he's standing at and shuffles a few papers. you sink even lower into your chair. this can't be good.

"uh, well, hello…everyone," harry says awkwardly, earning some flirtatious giggles from the girls just ahead of you. "it's a pleasure to be here, really, despite the circumstances. uh, i'm sure as some of you know…i've been very close with the weasley family for years and feel devastated for bill– uh, professor weasley, that is," harry corrects himself nervously, clearing his throat and glancing at his papers again.

"and when he reached out to me personally, specifically me out of anyone, to teach in his place for this semester, i couldn't say no to him. so, while it's a real honor to be here with you all, please know it's just for this semester and then professor weasley will be back to continue with the lesson plan in the spring," harry explains, looking around the room yet always letting his eyes land on you specifically with a lingering gaze.

harry goes into the schedule for the semester, the skills you'll be learning, and, well, you can't really focus on what else because you're just completely lost in your own head.

harry potter, the harry potter, is your professor for an entire semester.

you were completely dumbfounded. he couldn't hardly be older than 20 years old at this point. he had only left hogwarts just 2 years prior, yet he looked so different. though the glasses and hair stayed relatively the same, he had matured in the face. a slight beard, defined smile lines, and he'd definitely spent some time in the gym…

seeing him in a button up with his old gryffindor tie on drove you mad. is he really getting you worked up in the middle of class by just standing there? you feel like you're 14 again, staring him down in the courtyard from behind a tree.

it doesn't help that you swear he keeps looking at you. specifically you. his gaze is unmistakable at this point, it can't be a coincidence.

you try to stop yourself from having these thoughts and physical reactions. if he's going to be your professor for an entire semester you have to get over this silly crush that was never going to work out anyway. though you're soon turning 19, it makes no difference if he's working with the school, it would never be allowed…

what are you even saying? as if anything would ever happen except in your dreams. all you're going to do is lust for him until christmas and then he'll be gone again, his name nothing but a spoken legend again.

before you can process all he's said, harry announces that everyone's free to leave once you grab a textbook from him. girls are immediately standing up and running to get in line, and the boys are rolling their eyes as they sluggishly follow behind.

you're inevitably the last one, getting a headache as you listen to girls try to ask harry all kinds of questions for a bit of his attention. he mostly just gives simple answers or laughs them off, referring back to the class or the textbook he was handing them in some way to change the subject.

mcgonagall eventually shoos the girls away, which harry thanks her for in a low tone. he hands a book to each of the boys in front of you before it comes down to you. as the boy in front of you is being escorted away by mcgonagall, you briefly catch harry putting the library card of your book inside the front cover before he closes it.

your eyes connect as he hands the book to you, but he doesn't let go. your heart instantly flutters.

"it's nice to see you again, [y/n]," he says softly, letting the weight of the book fall in your hands.

the way he says your name has you frozen in place. his pretty blue eyes have stayed just as mesmerizing. it takes a moment before you're able to wrap the book in your arms, offering him a friendly smile as you softly reply, "you too, harry…"

you're quickly making your way back to your room with the biggest, cheesiest smile plastered on your face. he remembered you. you had barely ever interacted with harry, only a handful of times as far as you could remember, and you were sure he had completely forgotten about you, or at least forgotten your name. you tried to chalk it up to him having access to the attendance records of the class and reading over your name, but you still felt like a giddy school girl skipping along day dreaming about her crush.

when you got back to your dorm, you set the class textbook down on your desk and went to turn around before looking back at it longingly. harry had just put the library card back in the book before handing it off to you. you were most likely crazy, but something inside you was insanely curious to see if he had done something to the card.

you slowly opened the book and took the card out, a blank piece of cardstock except for a fresh label printed at the top. you sigh, almost putting it back before seeing something on the card catch the shimmer of the light.

you give the card a curious look. you turn it in your hands towards the light, trying to see what's on it. before giving up in frustration, a thought comes into your brain.

no…

you dig into your luggage, still unpacked from the day prior, looking for your old ink and quill. once you find them you come back to the card, setting it on your desk as you open the ink pot. you dip your quill in the ink and touch it to the spot you noticed earlier.

as you watched, the ink collected into letters and numbers, forming a message across the dotted lines of the check out columns. you were stunned. harry actually wrote to you in disappearing ink? you thought you were delusional thinking it was a possibility, but here was the proof plain as day:

[y/n],

hagrid's, 8:30pm

harry

you kept rereading the lines over and over before they slowly disappeared, fading away into the paper. you stood back in pure disbelief. what does this mean? obviously it means he wants to meet with you, but for the life of you you just can't figure out why. you two barely knew one another personally, it had been two years since you'd seen or heard of each other again, and now he's secretly inviting you to hagrid's after hours using disappearing ink? as your substitute professor, too…

from 5-8 pm you mainly paced around your room in both lingering disbelief and unbridled excitement. though you had no idea why harry had invited you out in secret, you were anxious just to be in his presence at his request.

you spent forever deciding on your outfit, feeling a bit silly for putting so much effort into this suspicious rendezvous that you were still clueless about.

sneaking out had become somewhat natural to you over the years. you knew all the blind spots of the castle and could hear a prefect coming from a mile away. you were out of your room and walking down to hagrid's completely unnoticed in less than 10 minutes.

on your way down the hill, your mind is racing with possibilities of what this meeting could entail.

arriving at hagrid's hut, you admire the warm glow of the windows and intoxicating smell coming from the smoking chimney – a mix of wood and garlic. hagrid's pumpkins are just beginning to plump up, his yard scattered with overgrown vines.

as you walk up to the door, a wave of anxiety hits you. knocking seems like the most impossible task in the world all of a sudden.

you steady your breathing, let your heart rate slow, and knock before you have the chance to stop yourself.

a few seconds of some rustling can be heard behind the door before it swings open. harry greets you with a warm smile. no longer dressed for class, harry looks quite adorable in a comfy sweater and baggy jeans standing before you in the hut.

"[y/n], you got my message," he says, clearly impressed. you couldn't believe this was real. he really did leave you that note on purpose. just hearing him acknowledge it made your heart race all over again.

"i-i did," you say in shock, searching his expression for an answer to all your questions. why are you here?

harry gestures for you to come in. "well, join me, please," he insists. you politely smile and enter the hut, the smell of food making your mouth water immediately. "smells amazing in here," you comment under your breath.

harry closes the door, looking back at you with a shy smile. "oh, thank you. it's for us, actually." he tells you, nodding his head towards the dining table.

completely set up with a tablecloth, harry has food plated for the two of you on the tiny table, along with tea still steaming on the stove.

"if you don't mind, of course," he checks with you, his voice soft and unsure. you look back at harry, barely able to grasp what's happening before you reply, "of course,"

he suppresses a grin as he gestures to the table once more. "please," he prompts you. you hand him your bag and jacket before taking your seat at the table, admiring the food he prepared for you. you're still lost in thought when harry asks, "tea?" holding the kettle from the stove.

"please, thank you," you reply. he pours you both cups of tea before bringing them to the table with a smile on his face.

as you're eating you notice a record playing in the corner you hadn't heard earlier. it fills the space nicely as you both take your first bites of dinner. "hope you like it, i wasn't sure what to make," he says nervously.

wiping your lips with a napkin, you simply tell him, "it's lovely,"

after another moment or so, harry sits back in his chair. "so…[y/n]..." he sighs. hearing him say your name like that makes your brain fuzzy for just a second before he speaks again. "you're probably, um, wondering why…"

you stifle a laugh at his stalling, getting a hint of confidence as you interrupt him. "wondering why professor potter secretly invited me to have a home cooked dinner with him?"

harry goes still, his eyes searching your expression as a blush grows over his cheeks. he swallows nervously, blinking and shaking his head before attempting to respond. "u-um, yeah, that,"

smirking, enjoying his nerves, you wait for his explanation with your arms crossed and a raised brow. he clears his throat and diverts his eyes from your gaze. he takes a sip of tea before smacking his lips and looking back at you.

"i just, i haven't seen you…" he starts, eyes softening at you. "i-i know we didn't talk much, but…i always cared for you." the last part was hard for harry to get out, a weight lifting off his shoulders in the process.

you were blushing, but more than that you were sweating. this is like something you would dream about as a kid. hell, even just earlier today…

"when i saw you today…in class…" he seemed uncomfortable referencing that. "i just…a lot of memories came back to me," his hands move with him nervously as he speaks.

he sighs and stands up, his body language clearly stressed. you haven't said a word, you simply can't. what could you possibly say?

harry's facing the fireplace, his head in his hands. "look, i just, now that i'm your professor this semester i just think…" he takes a moment to find the words before turning to you. "i had a crush on you. okay? there. god damn it," harry huffs angrily, rolling his head back as he throws his hands down.

"i had a crush on you for like 3 years, it was stupid, and i don't want it to affect my teaching with you. so…i guess i practically set up a fucking date to tell you this, sent hagrid away for the evening for nothing…" he gestures to the table, sighing in defeat.

you're stunned into silence, to say the least. there aren't words to describe what's going on in your head at this moment.

after a moment harry looks back at you, his gaze softening once again. "[y/n]...please understand i wouldn't be telling you any of this unless i thought there was another way i could deal with it. when i saw you today…it was like i was 16 again," a small smile creeps onto his face before he wipes it away.

"and if i didn't tell you now, it's all i would've thought about when i saw you, so…yeah. there." harry says with a huff, avoiding eye contact with you.

before you can even process what's going on, your body reacts for you. you stand up, walking over to harry, getting his attention off the floor. he looks at you almost with fear in his eyes at how close you are. you sigh shakily before speaking.

"harry…u-um, professor potter…" you correct yourself. "please, just, harry…for now at least," harry insisted, his eyes apologetic.

"harry…" you say, suppressing a grin. "you don't have to worry. really…um, it was definitely mutual, to put it lightly…"

harry gives you a surprised look. "really?"

you roll your eyes, taking a step away from him and towards the fire, enjoying the warmth. "harry, you forget who you are sometimes. essentially every girl i knew had a crush on you at one point."

harry's a little flustered at this statement, also taking a step closer to the fire, and towards you. "i-i wouldn't say that, i was definitely not that lucky back in the day," he jokes.

"so those girls that were practically all over you during class today…?" you tease him. "'oh, professor potter, what can i do to get a good grade?'" you mock their voices, giving him puppy dog eyes as you lean towards him before laughing and turning towards the fire. "is that not luck?" you ask with your arms crossed, a smirk hiding your slight jealousy.

harry's silent for a few moments before you look over at him. you see his eyes dark and fixated on you for just a second before he blinks and shakes his head at you, also turning to the fire. "please. they're children. they crush on any slightly older guy they see."

you roll your eyes again at his denial. "some of them were my age, well on their way to being 19. but, whatever you say."

the fire crackles in front of you two, filling the space and creating a warm glow. "besides…none of them are you." harry says. you look over at him, and he's lost staring at the fire. he feels you looking at him and quickly corrects himself. "i mean, nobody was like you, at least to me, back then…" he trails off awkwardly, wincing at his own choice of words.

you adore his nervous antics. he's just the same sweet, timid boy you remember, except he's a bit taller with a 5 o'clock shadow and looks gorgeous in the glow of a fireplace right now.

"i've really mucked this night up, haven't i? i was supposed to tell you about the crush calmly and professionally, with no inappropriate comments, and send you on your way into the night with your first reading in the textbook…" harry sighs, giving you a pathetic look.

"well…" you start. "your first mistake was probably leaving me a secret note, and cooking me a wonderful dinner," you gesture towards the table. harry lets out a pathetic laugh, shaking his head. "yeah, probably."

you don't know why you feel the need to, but you instinctively grab for harry's hand. he gives you a surprised, scared look.

you try to reassure him with a soft smile. "harry, i appreciate you telling me. i hope it can make this semester easier for you."

harry smiles in return, but it's not genuine. he looks like he's holding back from letting you know how he really feels.

regardless, he invited you two to finish up your food, laughing as you both attempted to resume casual conversation without the awkward air.

surprisingly, the two of you naturally begin to talk up a storm, reminiscing on memories and catching up on what's happened since then. harry tells you about his career as an auror and his experiences that lead him to being able to teach defense against the dark arts. when professor weasley's wife had died of sudden illness, the only person he wanted to take his place was harry.

you're hesitant to tell him about your lack of eventful news, practically hiding your face in embarrassment as you admit that your grades have been suffering since the war.

harry put a reassuring hand on your knee, his chair pushed closer to you. you had both long since finished dinner and just talked, enjoying the fire as harry continued to feed it wood every so often.

you looked up at him, melting at how adorable his tired eyes looked through his glasses. "i get it. trust me." he tells you. his voice puts you at ease, and you don't feel quite as embarrassed as before.

"maybe this semester i could help you. if you'd like, of course," harry offers. you smile. "of course."

as you're slowly making your way towards the door to leave, harry watches you search through your bag to find chapstick. as you're putting it on, he continues to watch you. you sneak a glance at him, his face soft and full of admiration.

"you know, if i may say, in the least inappropriate manner possible…" he says with a laugh, causing you to laugh with him. "you have truly only gotten more beautiful after all this time, [y/n]."

looking over at him, you can feel your face form a cheesy grin with blushing cheeks. "well, thank you, that's very kind," you say, putting your chapstick away and taking another step towards the door. "but, really, i should be saying the same about you."

harry waves you away, but you notice the smile planted on his cheeks. "please," he says sarcastically.

he reaches for the door to open it for you, and finds himself rather close to you by accident. you smile up at him, and he nervously steps back.

"u-uh, thank you for coming tonight, really, even if it was a bit weird…" harry says, an embarrassed laugh following. giggling with him, you take a step outside. "it was nice. but, no more invisible ink. just ask me from now on, okay?" you ask, still giggling at him.

harry shakes his head at himself. "will do."

you give him a warm smile before reaching in for a one-arm hug, resting your head on harry's shoulder for just a second before pulling back. "i'll see you tomorrow, professor potter." 

enjoying the shocked and flustered look on his face, you walk away still laughing, making your way up the hill and towards the castle. you heard the door shut behind you quickly after you left, but could feel harry's lingering eyes following you through the window the entire way back.

that night you're laying in bed trying to convince yourself everything that just happened wasn't a dream. if it weren't for your full stomach and muddy shoes sitting by your door you might've convinced yourself it really was all an illusion. rather than dreading the next day of classes, you're actually excited to wake up as it only means you'll see harry sooner.

though you're not sure exactly why. yes you'd had a friendly conversation with him tonight after he admitted his feelings towards you, which still hasn't quite settled in yet…but what happens now? he's still your professor for the next 5 months minimum, and you both know you used to like each other. harry might feel better getting it off his chest, but you were perfectly fine keeping that secret to yourself like you always had. if anything, now it's the only thing you're going to think about every day.

rolling over, you try to fall asleep without thinking about harry too much.

it had been a few weeks since you met with harry that night in hagrid's hut, and things were going…okay, so far.

well, to be completely honest, you had utterly fallen back into your crush on harry harder than you ever had before.

and you tried to stop yourself this time. really, you did. working with harry in class and then stopping by his office at least 3 times a week for his help in other classes was a lot of time to be spending with a professor, and you rather despised just how fast harry made your heart beat or how easily his eyes could distract you.

so you tried your best to convince yourself it was lingering feelings from your past self, even trying to have a crush on other boys in your year to distract your brain. that failed miserably. none of those boys were attractive or interesting on their own, especially in comparison to professor potter…

but you couldn't fool yourself. you still felt the same butterflies seeing harry now like you did in 5th year. when he's talking to you in the quiet of his office, reading your textbook to you, you feel like the only two people in the world. when he fixes your hands to hold the wand properly, or moves your arm for you in the correct pattern to cast a spell, you can't focus for the rest of class. if his eyes linger on you just a bit too long during one of his lectures, a knowing smile growing on his face, you melt in your seat.

there was no denying it. you liked him more now than you ever had before. maybe it's just the sheer amount of time you've spent with him this past month or so, but your feelings for him had never been this strong in the past. there were days where he was quite literally the only thing you thought about, or at least wanted to think about. though you were doing better in your other classes, it was only because of him. you spent barely any outside time putting effort into these classes because, ultimately, you were completely distracted by harry.

and not just the idea of him, but particularly the growing tension you had noticed between you two recently.

you also tried to convince yourself that this was going on in your head. but there were just too many instances of prolonged eye contact, harry sitting a bit too close to you during your tutoring sessions, and lingering hands on your skin that made you question if harry maybe wasn't entirely over his crush either…

not that you tried to make it easy for him. since the semester started, you've been taking some extra time each morning to perfect your hair/makeup, put on your favorite perfumes on days you knew you'd be close to harry, and would even change your outfit completely when going to study with him outside of your school robes to give you a boost of confidence.

not that you needed the boost. lately you could only feel confident in yourself and nothing less. something about learning your life long crush who seemed so unattainable also had feelings for you, and could possibly still, made you feel untouchable. not to mention that any girl you heard talk about him or swoon over him in class just made you laugh to yourself; they had no idea you were with him alone for hours every week goofing off together as he attempted to help you study.

this confidence made its way into other parts of your day outside of harry as well. you were talking more in class, making a few new friends, even going to parties and outings just for the fun of it. you were actually enjoying your time at hogwarts instead of dreading every day. not all because of harry, but it definitely didn't hurt to consider him a friend.

a friend. a professor. an old classmate. a crush. a temporary fixation. your relationship to harry, in your mind, seemed so complicated and sometimes incredibly frustrating. especially when he seemed to flirt with you so subtly. you couldn't stand the, 'is he, isn't he' thoughts. but, at the same time, it just made you more motivated to push the limits to see how he responded.

of course it started with looking good, enjoying his reaction seeing you each day with a small smile and blushing cheeks. then it was making flirtatious jokes and purposefully giving him innocent looks while he rambled about whatever subject to get him flustered and distracted. and, lately, you've stepped it up by wearing shorter and shorter skirts whenever you stop by his office, and have even caught him looking at your legs a number of times when he thinks you're not paying attention.

all this to say, there was definitely tension.

you had to admit you felt a bit guilty, you knew harry valued his position as a substitute professor and was enjoying his time there, and you would feel awful if anything ever happened to cost him this position. he told you about his crush specifically to alleviate it, and your only goal this semester has been to do the opposite.

but, at the same time, you wouldn't act this way if harry didn't also create tension between you two. he also made overtly flirty jokes and comments, even seeming a tad bit jealous whenever you mentioned another boy during your time together. and you weren't stupid, you could tell when he wore the cologne you complimented one time when you were around or had even changed from his school clothes before you came to see him. there was definitely something unspoken going on between the two of you, but you were both afraid of crossing that line and making things complicated. besides, if anything, you both seemed to enjoy this game you were playing of teasing each other in private and then acting normally during class as student and teacher.

honestly, you found it to be insanely erotic, and were more turned on in class than any other time you were with harry due to the secretive nature of everything. his longing gaze as you walk in, his nervous glances towards specifically you, the shift in his voice from talking to one student to talking to you, it was all so subtle yet in plain view. something about wanting what you can't have only made you want it more.

on this particular day, you had been with harry for over two hours studying for an exam for a class you had been struggling with all semester, even with harry's help. you were frustrated, laying your head in your arms with your textbook in front of you, groaning as harry chuckled at you. 

"c'mon, [y/n], you've got this. i mean, you did just fine on this last practice test, better than you have all semester really," harry comments, pulling the paper out of your folder. you lift your head up, giving him a mean look. "i got a 75. barely." you deadpan.

"yes, and that's better than what you have been getting." harry stated, trying to hide a smirk. you throw a crumpled up paper at him. "stop, that's not funny," you whine, also trying to hide your laugh.

chuckling, harry stands up and walks towards the bookshelf in his office. "look, i'm just trying to be encouraging here," he says over his shoulder as he scans the rows of books.

you try to get back to your work, but you're just so utterly confused and upset that you close the book with a huff and lean back in your seat with an exasperated expression. harry hears this and turns to you, giving you a sympathetic smile.

he walks back over, picking up the book in front of you and setting it in your bag. "here, we can be done for today. it's not good to push yourself past your limit."

you sigh as you push back the urge to tear up. "sometimes i just feel so stupid," you say in a soft, despondent voice, staring off into the window across from harry's desk.

harry's watching you intently, and nearly drops to his knees as he crouches beside your chair and catches your eyes in his. "hey, you're not stupid. quite the opposite, actually." he says with a genuine voice. you look away, still not believing him.

"really, [y/n], and i'm not saying this as your professor. back in school i was constantly listening to hermione go on and on about your intelligence and class rank. she was incredibly impressed and slightly envious that someone 2 years below her was actually providing some competition at this school." harry says with a laugh.

you can't help but blush like crazy at this confession. hermione had been your academic inspiration for all of your time at hogwarts, and even still now despite your declining lack of effort. you'd had quite a few conversations with her in the past about classes and certain books or authors you both enjoyed, but had no idea she thought that highly of you.

mulling over this information in your head, harry continued to grab your attention with a soft smile and loving eyes. "you're not stupid. different things are harder for different people. you'll get there, and i'll help you. okay?" he asks.

you smile back at him. "okay."

slowly packing up to leave, you and harry both take your time to gather your supplies as you chat about your respective plans for the weekend. you casually mention a party you were thinking of going to. harry perks up at this. "a party?" he asks, a twinge of concern laced in his voice.

you give him a look. "yeah, ever heard of it?" you ask sarcastically, laughing to yourself. "i guess it's one of the slytherin boys' birthdays, or something like that," you wave off, throwing your bag over your shoulder. "apparently it's going to be massive,"

harry continues looking at you with a hint of concern. "well, just…be safe, yeah?" harry comments, his voice uneasy. you laugh at him again, looking at him incredulously. "yes, professor potter, i'll be careful," you tease him. you know harry gets a little squirmy when you call him that outside of class, and it never fails to make you feel powerful.

"besides, i heard the theme is dress to impress, so you already know i'm gonna look so good," you joke, flipping your hair dramatically. harry's tenseness breaks, letting out a chuckle. "well, still. just…be safe." is all he manages to say as you walk with him to the door.

saying your goodbyes as you separate down the hall, you can still feel harry's eyes on you until you disappear around the corner.

the night of the party, you were still unsure if you wanted to go. when a couple girls from class saw you and asked if you were going, they ended up convincing you to come with them. so, you got changed into a flashy dress that fit you well, fixed up your hair and makeup a bit, and met them in the courtyard to walk to the slytherin common room together. they obsessively commented on your outfit, telling you just how good you looked and letting you know you'd have no problem finding a guy to snog tonight.

but, you don't want any guy tonight. if anything, you were walking slowly through the hallways hoping by some chance that harry would cross your path and see just how good you looked. but you knew you weren't that lucky.

upon arriving at the party, drinks are immediately pushed into your and your friends' hands. they were right about the party being massive, as every square foot of the slytherin common room was packed with slightly tipsy students of all ages dancing to the loud music. you had barely finished your first drink before your friends dragged you over to do shots with them, wincing at the burn it left in your throat afterwards.

as the night goes on, you're eventually separated from all the girls you came with. not on purpose, some of them were playing drinking games, some were dancing, and one had even left the party with a guy she was completely into. no hard feelings, everyone was just doing their own thing. you had a few shouting-over-the-music conversations with a couple classmates and drank another cup of the mysterious alcoholic punch being served before deciding to head back to your room. you informed one of your friends, who asked if you wanted her to come with you, but you insisted she stay.

entering the hallway is extremely sobering. the loud music and colorful lights made it easy to ignore the growing drunken sensation, but you were now nervously navigating the halls of hogwarts, slightly intoxicated, attempting to warm yourself up with your hands over your arms. you hadn't even thought to bring a jacket, of course, so you were shivering as you made your way back to your room.

not long after leaving the party, you turn the corner and come face to face with another person. a boy a year under you, though you couldn't remember his name or anything else about him. you're a bit startled, not expecting to see anyone else, but politely apologize and attempt to walk around him.

"hey. you were at the party, right?" he asks, stepping in front of you to prevent you from leaving. you're slightly annoyed by him already, but your intoxicated state makes you bite your tongue. "yeah, just on my way back to my room," you try to end the conversation there, taking another step to get around him.

but he gets in your way again, stepping even closer to you this time. "what's the rush? y'know you had every guy talkin' in there tonight? sure would be nice to take home the prize," he slurs into your face, your nose scrunching at his alcoholic breath. god, this kid's way more wasted than you.

"excuse me?" you scoff, turning your face away from him. he tries to put his hand on your waist but you slap it away as hard as you can, causing him to wince and give you an angry look. "i suggest you leave me the fuck alone," you announce firmly, stancing your feet apart as you get ready to defend yourself further.

just as this guy's about to try again, this time his hands going for your neck, a voice from down the hall echoes loudly, scaring you both. "hey!"

you both turn, and it's harry.

"i would further suggest you leave her alone, mr. williams," he announces as he swiftly walks towards you. the kid laughs him off. "mind your business, huh, potter? this doesn't involve you," he continues to slur, looking like he wants to fight as harry walks up to him, chest to chest.

"it does now. leave and you'll be lucky i don't have you expelled or rather arrested for sexually assaulting a fellow student on campus grounds after hours, while intoxicated might i add," harry spits at him, his eyes full of disgust and rage.

the kid falters a bit, but the alcohol still has him acting cocky, getting in harry's face. "yeah? or what," he asks daringly.

you get between them and put your wand, hidden in your dress, against the kid's throat, making him stiff with wide eyes. "touch him and i will gladly get expelled for hurting you in ways you couldn't even conceive of in your fucking nightmares. do you understand? get the fuck out of here!" you nearly shout at the kid, causing him to turn and run.

you sigh a breath of relief, but quickly begin to feel the anxiety return as you bring your wand down and look at harry.

you can feel your body shaking with anger and fear, and also shivering from how cold you hadn't realized you'd gotten. your cheeks were flushed, your breathing uneven, and nearly on the verge of tears. harry's eyes were still angry, but he gave you a sympathetic look. he promptly took off his jacket and wrapped it around your shivering frame, enveloping you in a hug in the process. it's hard not to let the tears flow just a bit as you rest your head in his chest. you felt so vulnerable with him in that moment.

"here, let's get you back to your room, yeah?" harry says softly, turning your shoulders and guiding you down the hall. you realize you had sobered up during the ordeal, your eyes focusing and walking straightening out as you follow the corridors. once harry begins guiding you down your hallway, you slow to look up at him with a curious expression.

"how do you know where my room is?"

harry's a bit stunned by your question, searching for an answer before you began to think more. "and, wait," you stop walking and turn to him. "how did you even find me?" you ask breathlessly. harry continues to look guilty as he searches for an answer. smirking, you pull his jacket on you closer.

"professor potter, if i didn't know better, i'd say you were watching me tonight," you tease him in a flirty voice. "surely that's not the case, is it?"

harry looks around you two nervously, clearly starting to feel anxious for his actions. all you could do was smirk. you knew he still liked you.

harry sighs, avoiding your eye contact with a completely red face. "look, i just had a bad feeling about that party, okay?" he says simply. you continue to stare at him with a knowing look. "i couldn't sleep tonight knowing something could've happened to you. something like that fucking kid…" harry gets worked up just thinking about it again before stopping himself and calming down. "i'm sorry. it was wrong of me, and completely inappropriate."

your smirk drops into a soft smile. you can't help but feel your stomach erupt into butterflies hearing him admit he was watching you tonight specifically to make sure you were safe.

you softly put your hand to his cheek, causing him to look at you. he looks apologetic, concerned, and sad, his eyes searching yours as he slightly leans into your touch.

"thank you, harry." you say just above a whisper, your voice genuine and loving.

he sighs again, a bit relieved, a bit sad. his hand goes for yours, holding it for just a moment before he gives it back to you, letting go as he looks towards your door.

"well," he starts off, his voice cracking. "i'll leave you here for the night,"

smiling, you nod and take a step towards your door. you slip his jacket off of you and hand it back to him with a grateful, warm smile. he returns the smile as you're opening your door and waving goodbye at him.

as you're getting ready for bed, you replay the events of tonight over and over. you imagine harry watching you leave your room without you having any clue, meeting up with your friends, leaving the party in a daze, attempting to escape that guy before harry decided he had to step in and protect you.

you felt a bit silly for ever thinking harry's crush on you had stopped. even his subtle clues weren't very subtle thinking back now. maybe back in year 5 you assumed you were crazy for thinking he was looking at you funny, but now, nearing 3 years later, and learning he's liked you the whole time, you couldn't deny his longing gaze.

laying in bed, you decided you had to properly thank harry in some way for tonight, and you knew exactly how.

the next day, you paid a special visit to diagon alley with a friend to buy something special for harry. when she asked why you would ever possibly buy something like that for yourself, you make up some story about needing it for a class. she doesn't believe you, but goes along with it anyway and continues to have fun with you on your sunday out shopping.

you head towards his office in the afternoon when he usually spends his time grading assignments and working on the following week's lesson plan. you practically had his schedule memorized after coming to study with him so often.

softly knocking on the door, harry lets out a, "come in,"

you enter the office and he smiles at you immediately before it falters, his eyes then landing on the wrapped box in your hands. "surprise," you say with a shy voice.

he lets out a huff, looking back at you with a disbelieving expression. "[y/n]..." he carries off.

"it's just a little something," you say as you walk towards his desk, setting it down carefully in front of him. "a thank you, for last night," you tell him.

his eyes move back and forth from the box to your eyes, not knowing what to say. a few moments pass before he stands. "[y/n], i can't accept this…" he sighs. "what i did last night, i mean…it shouldn't have happened that way," he says curtly.

you tilt your head to catch his gaze, giving him a warm smile. "you did nothing wrong," you reassure him. you gesture to the gift. "please," you insist.

harry's shoulders relax, giving you an embarrassed smile as he slides the box closer to him, admiring the wrapping. "this is gorgeous, did you do this?" he asks, pointing at the sparkly ribbon and personalized name card. you proudly smile and nod your head.

harry admires it for another moment before carefully untying the ribbon and lifting the lid off the box. he gasps at what he sees.

a signed, hardcover, gold leaf detailed first edition defense against the dark arts textbook from his favorite auror. he had talked to you about seeing it at the bookshop but not wanting to spend the money or not having the place to display it or whatever his excuse was. you had taken note of this comment and when you saw it wasn't as expensive as harry had made it seem you knew it was perfect.

"[y/n]...you didn't…" he utters, practically falling back in his chair as he continues to stare at the cover. you giggle fondly at his reaction. "go ahead, open it up," you tell him excitedly. he can hardly move, but he eventually takes the book out of the box and admires it in his hands. he flips the cover open, sees the signature, and smiles. then, he looks at the inside of the cover and his expression drops.

"i had it personalized, if that's okay with you," you ask anxiously. on the inside of the leather bound cover you had a pressing engraved that said 'harry james potter'.

harry's in shock, his fingers running across the pressing softly. "[y/n], this is…" he trails off, continuing to admire the book as he flips through it, landing back on the inside cover, admiring his name once more.

"thank you." harry says, looking at you with so much love in his eyes it makes your heart burst. it was worth every penny seeing him in awe in front of you like this.

"well, thank you," you respond, smiling, holding your arms behind your back.

harry abruptly stands up, stepping around his desk and pulling you in for a desperate hug. you're a bit surprised, your arms wrapping around his waist as he continues to pull you closer and closer.

after a minute or so of the most comforting hug you've experienced outside of last night in that hallway, harry separates from you only slightly to look down at you. your faces are close enough to feel the breath of the other person.

you just want to tell him, 'fuck it, who cares, nobody's here, just kiss me, please, release this tension', but before you can even consider it, harry breaks the silence.

"i still love you," he says so softly, his face wincing as the words fall from his lips. your breath hitches. love?

"fuck," harry mutters, almost stepping away from you until you pull him closer to you, putting your lips close enough to his they're nearly touching. "please. kiss me. just kiss me. please." you practically beg, your hand finding its way to harry's neck.

"[y/n], we can't, i can't–" "just once, please, maybe it'll stop if we just, please…" you interrupt him, hoping he understands what you're implying, your noses rubbing together.

harry takes a few moments before practically whimpering as he connects your lips to his, wrapping you in his arms tightly. you immediately melt into him, letting the kiss consume you as your hands pull harry closer to you.

it only takes a few seconds before harry has you up on his desk, his hands gripping your ass under your skirt. the cold of the wood on your exposed skin makes you gasp, and harry's tongue quickly slips past your lips.

it's everything you imagined, and the fact that this is happening in his office is just making you even more turned on. you had played this scenario in your head so many times, and it hardly felt real once it was actually happening. and on the desk you spent so many hours at, pining over him and fantasizing him taking you like he is right now.

after a few minutes of making out and needy groping through your clothes, harry pulls away breathlessly. opening your eyes you see he's completely flushed, his hair slightly messy as he nervously takes his hands off you.

you awkwardly clear your throat, your hands falling to your sides and resting back on the desk. harry takes a step away, straightening his tie and fixing his hair. you hop off his desk and adjust your skirt.

the silence between you is awkward, but there's just nothing to say. the kiss only left you wanting more, of course, it was pointless to ever hope it would quell your feelings in some way.

"well," harry begins, his voice shaky and quiet. "that didn't work."

you let out a nervous laugh, coughing to cover it up. "yeah…sorry." you mumble.

harry sighs. "no, i'm sorry. i'm technically your superior, i shouldn't be doing this to you. leading you on, flirting with you, for fuck's sake, following you around after hours…"

you shake your head. "look, i'm not kissing professor potter, okay? i like you, harry. i've liked you since i was 13. i don't want to ruin your position here either, and i'll stop if that's what you truly want…" you choke up just a bit before swallowing it back. "but, just, please, stop blaming yourself. i want this, too."

the silence returns, harry clearly thinking over what you said as his eyes stare off beside you. you're anxiously shifting your weight, watching his face get lost in his own thoughts.

"i can't risk this job," harry says finally. "i don't give a shit about the money, pay me everything in the world i would still want you…" he mumbles. you feel your stomach drop at this sentiment. you want him so, so badly. but… 

"but…" harry says.

you smile at him sadly, knowing what's coming. "i can't let down bill, or mcgonagall, or any professors or students here who may actually still like me," he says with a dry laugh. "if we ever got caught, and i just know we would, and what would happen to you…i just–" "i know, harry," you interrupt him, taking a small step towards him.

he smiles at you sadly as well. "and i agree. it's not worth it. well, you're worth it, of course…" you say shyly, diverting your gaze before continuing. "but, it's too risky. you deserve to finish out this semester without that hanging over your head, y'know?"

harry stares at you lovingly, no attempt to hide his adoration for you in this moment. "you're truly incredible. you know that?" harry comments softly.

you respond by blushing and crossing your arms. he hums softly, his smile taking over his cheeks. "thank you, really, for everything, if things were any different, i wish…" harry stumbles. you smile at him again. "i know."

harry returns to his gift, admiring the book in his hands over and over before putting it on the bookshelf next to his desk. he admires it there for a while as well before thanking you again.

as you're getting ready to leave, harry stops you for a moment. "if you don't mind, i'd still love to help you in your other classes. and, just, remain friendly in general still, if possible…"

you melt again at his soft demeanor. harry's such a sweetheart it's heartbreaking. all you want is to kiss him again. it's all you've wanted since he stopped.

"of course."

it's the end of the semester, and you have mixed feelings about it. on one hand you're dying for a break from classes. you've done the best you have in years this semester, and it's exhausted you. but you're incredibly grateful, for a lot of things. your new friends, your rediscovered love for hogwarts and magic in general, your overall improved attitude and mentality.

with special thanks to a certain substitute professor…

harry. this semester was definitely a rollercoaster for you when it came to harry. though, towards the end, things fell into place a bit more as you both accepted and embraced your odd, yet effective routine. professional student-professor relationship in public; smitten, teasingly love-sick old classmates in the comfort of his office walls. nothing further than lingering hands, loving stares, and the occasional compliment towing the line of what's inappropriate and what isn't.

though the dynamic wasn't ideal, you grew to love it for what it was. a simple, longing love that wasn't exactly unspoken anymore, but sure felt like it each passing day as you both pretended that kiss never happened.

that kiss. you swear you think about it every day. you long for harry to grab you like that again, to slip his tongue past your lips again…sometimes, late at night, it's all you can think about. sometimes just the thought of it makes you need to touch yourself, remembering how desperate he was for you, the feeling of his lips on yours, sitting on his desk in his office, just the image of it from outside of your own perspective could bring you to your orgasm alone in your room.

to say you were anxiously counting down the days until classes were over and harry technically wasn't employed with hogwarts anymore was an understatement. though you hadn't spoken about it with him, you felt it was okay to maybe consider that he would want to continue things further with you once his substitution was over. you kept your guard up as you knew he could still be uncomfortable with it while you were a student in general. but a large portion of you was practically praying that wasn't the case. you physically couldn't resist him much longer.

you were staying on campus for christmas this year, mostly just to savor your last holiday here, but also to continue seeing harry if possible.

it was the last day of classes, and you learned you passed all your exams with flying colors. you showed up to dark arts class early to inform harry excitedly, and he congratulated you with the same level of excitement.

"i knew you could do it! i told you you were smart." he beams. "i am so, so proud of you, [y/n]."

you want to hug him so badly, he's helped you so much this semester, you wouldn't have cared enough to try and get these kinds of grades without his guidance. but it's too public, and the risk is too high, so you just settle on an awkward high five and laugh emptily.

as other students walk in, you both pretend the moment never happened, and you sit in your seat without looking up from the floor.

the class is simple and rather uneventful as it's mostly everyone's last class of the semester. harry actually hands out christmas cookies hagrid made for everyone, and they're mediocre in taste, but the designs are so adorable you can't resist finishing it.

harry gives you all a speech thanking the class for trusting him to teach this semester, and for being respectful of him and professor weasley's lessons. he talks about how he's always thought about being a professor, but actually ended up despising the paperwork, and just missed his old job, which caused the class to chuckle with him.

he dismissed everyone with a happy christmas, specifically towards you, of course.

your heart aches a little as you leave the classroom and head to your room. you're going to miss harry as a professor, even if it caused complications in other aspects, it was inspiring to see him be so intelligent, helpful, and supportive in class. of course you were biased, you always found him to be amazing, but something about watching him teach a young wizard how to do a spell correctly for the first time just made you admire him so deeply.

you decided to rest for the night, knowing harry would be here for at least another day to collect all his items and clean the classroom up for professor weasley. you could talk to him then, what exactly about you weren't sure just yet, but you knew you had to tie up these loose ends before they drove you mad.

the next afternoon, you're practically one of the only students roaming the halls. most everyone leaves the first day of break to go home, and by christmas there's only a handful of students left.

arriving at harry's office door, you admire it one last time. your little sanctuary away from the world.

you knock, but to your dismay, there's no answer.

you knock again, a bit louder, but still, nothing. you decide to peak in, and notice how barren the desk looks from afar.

fuck. there's no way harry's left without speaking to you first.

you quickly walk to the dark arts classroom just down the hall, hoping he's cleaning and organizing it, but find it empty and dark. your heart sinks. he's gone.

you slowly walk back to your room, deciding you'll grab your coat and visit hagrid to see if harry's with him there. you try not to let your disappointment overcome you, there's still a chance you could talk to him…

entering your room, you immediately head for your coat rack by the window. you start to slip it on when you hear your door close, knowing you left it open on purpose to quickly leave.

you turn around, and it's harry.

you gasp, immediately dropping the coat and running to him, jumping into a hug. he laughs at your reaction, but embraces you nonetheless.

"hi, love," he says softly, resting his head on top of yours. you could hardly contain yourself at the pet name. it communicated so much to you with so little effort.

you look up at him, barely able to believe what's happening. harry looks at you knowingly. this unspoken tension. it was going to be the death of you.

as harry begins leaning in, you crash your lips together with his, immediately engulfing him into a heated, wanting, needing kiss.

harry's more than happy to give in to you. it's clear he's thought about this just as much as you have. he finished all his professor duties as soon as he could so he could officially, finally, be yours.

you guide harry to your bed, pushing him onto it as he gives you an impressed look, clearly intrigued by your repressed desperation.

you crawl onto his lap, immediately pulling him back into the kiss. harry's hands are all over you, finally, after fantasizing about it every night in this very same bed for months.

the kiss is desperate, full of moaning and getting sloppier by the minute. harry's squeezing and slapping your ass so hard you whimper in his arms, your hands gripping his button up tightly.

"fuck, [y/n], need you so bad, please," harry moans into your kiss, his hands sliding up your back. you reach to take your shirt off, left in just a bra and tiny skirt, as you start untying his tie and unbuttoning his shirt.

harry's staring at you with hunger in his eyes. "do you even understand how badly i've wanted you? you and these fucking skirts, you must think i'm stupid." he growls, pulling at the hem of your skirt. you blush and stifle a giggle, overwhelmed with how insanely hot you found this to be.

"think that's funny? you think it was funny when i had to stand in class all day and not stare at your perfect legs through your robe? anytime i gave a lecture and just looking at you turned you into a needy slut," harry grabs your hair, turning your attention to him as he unbuttons the rest of his shirt with his other hand. "was that fun for you, hm? did you enjoy teasing me all semester?"

you can't say anything. all you can do is nod. you were so turned on you could hardly think straight.

"i bet it was," he says, examining your desperate expression, his words dripping with desire.

he pulls you in for another kiss, and you help him take off his shirt. his skin was warm, soft, and his shoulders were broad. you moved your lips to his neck, leaving an obvious bite just below his collar to finally mark what was yours.

harry groans, his hands reaching behind your back to swiftly undo your bra. he helps pull it off of you, marveling at your chest. "beautiful," he tells you before attaching his lips to your skin. you hold his head against you, savoring the feeling and sight of harry leaving hickeys along the soft skin of your boobs.

his hand cups one softly as his tongue circles your nipple, watching you through his glasses as you melt into his hands. "harry…" you moan, your hand running through his soft hair.

he continues, starting to suck on your nipple softly with closed eyes, his other hand pulling up your skirt to feel your wetness through your panties.

you immediately whimper and lean into harry's touch, desperate for this for so long. "f-fuck," you stutter breathlessly.

harry smiles, taking his lips off of you to look up at your blushing face. "so wet already," he smirks.

you cover his face with your hands, embarrassed, giggling, continuing to further lean into his hand for pleasure.

he laughs and removes your hands, his eyes full of lust just looking at you in his lap.

"i need you, now," he insists, pushing you further onto his growing erection through his slacks. you let out a breathy moan feeling just how hard he is already. he's just as desperate as you've been for him.

"is that okay?" he asks carefully, watching for your reaction. you laugh a bit. "please. i've waited long enough." you joke.

you help harry take his pants and boxers off, as well as your skirt and panties, leaving you both naked in your room.

he sat back down on the bed, and invited you into his lap again. "just like this is perfect," he says, guiding your hips and admiring your body as you sit with his cock between you two, your eyes barely able to look away from it.

harry pulls you in for a kiss, his hands traveling over your body and stopping at your pussy again, his hand feeling just how wet you are. he moans into your kiss along with you and begins to slip his fingers inside of you, slowly, letting you react to him.

harry pushes further and further into you until you're practically riding his hand, your kiss barely kept together with you bouncing, desperate for more. "please," you insist, your hand gently grasping for his precum soaked cock.

harry smiles, gently pulling his fingers away before letting you guide yourself onto him. slowly at first, you enjoy the feeling of harry's cock stretching you open, whimpering as he watches you intently, his hands supporting your hips. eventually you feel yourself take him completely, your hips flush with his as you start to slowly grind your hips up and down.

harry's a mess, barely able to hold himself together just watching you adjust to his cock. your face twisting in pleasure, your soft whimpers, the tight feeling of your pussy squeezing around him, it was almost too much already.

"fuck, baby," harry's moaning, his hands gripping your hips for sanity. you can't help but giggle, you just love seeing him like this for you after dreaming about it for so long. he's so lost in pleasure already, his jaw slack and eyes dropping.

"i-i'm already, fuck [y/n], you're just so," harry can barely get the words out. hearing him moan your name so filthily motivated you to move your hips quicker, letting your tits bounce in his face as you continued to pick up speed.

"fuck, fuck, fuck," harry's panicking, you can tell he's already trying to hold back his orgasm. you find it extremely hot just how quickly you can bring him to this point. so hot it brings you closer to your orgasm with him, putting your hands on his face to look up at you.

"you feel so fucking good, harry," you tell him, your head rolling back in pleasure. he's in awe of you, his eyes memorizing every single inch of you as you continue to ride him.

"please, please, can you, um…" he takes a second between his words to moan. "please, can you call me professor potter…" he asks, clearly embarrassed by the request.

you rub his blushing cheeks between your hands, his question only making you more turned on. you loved knowing he was just as into the teacher/student dynamic as you had been.

"your cock feels so…so fucking good inside of me, professor potter," you moan, resting your forehead against harry's as you slow your pace, thoroughly enjoying the feeling of him.

harry's eyes roll back, sinful moans escaping his lips as his head falls forward, watching you ride him slowly as he begins slightly thrusting up into you. he looks back up at your eyes, exasperated. "i'm gonna cum if you don't stop," he quietly warns you, clearly feeling a bit guilty at his eagerness.

you smile. "please, please cum for me professor. i've been such a good girl for you this semester, haven't i?" you tease him. 

harry groans pathetically. "so, so good," his eyes are closed, his face twisting with each thrust. "then cum for me, please, give it to me," you beg him, your hands gripping his shoulders as you feel your stomach tensing from your own orgasm.

harry's eyes pop open, his gaze on you softening as his hands find your waist, gripping onto you desperately. "[y/n]..." he moans your name again, and you can feel yourself tipping over the edge. your pace becomes a bit slower as your legs start shaking.

harry moans as he starts to spill inside of you, the warm sensation fueling your orgasm as you both hold onto each other tightly, riding out your highs together.

after a few moments of slow grinding and weak kissing, you carefully stand up from your position on harry's lap. you guide him to your bathroom, where you help each other clean up, with a few more inevitable kisses and longing hugs along the way.

you get dressed into different clothes, and offer harry some as well. he declines, instead putting his clothes back on as he tells you he has to bring all his supplies back to his house.

you help him button his shirt back up and tie his tie before pushing yourself to ask the dreaded question you didn't want to know the answer to.

"so," you say softly. "what now?"

harry looks down at you lovingly, but he isn't quite smiling. "well, i'm no longer employed here," he states. you nod your head slowly, allowing him to continue.

"so, while it's not technically wrong, i'd still like to try and take this off campus, if possible," harry chuckles.

you give him a surprised look. "you want to see me again?" you ask quietly. harry can't help but laugh at you, kissing your forehead as he holds your cheek.

"you have no idea," is all he says before he leans in for another kiss, holding you close, knowing you're finally his.

[alphabetboyluvr]

masterlist

all fics are posted to wattpad first (don't judge a girlie by her primary upload platform </3)

i write about the stars, boys who are carved like greek sculptures, and the inability to communicate in a healthy, functional manner. and i also like to write about bangtan sonyeondan in relation to all of those things.

WATTPAD // AO3 // KO-FI // CARRD

no translations | minors dni | don't be a dick x

JJK

SERIES

THROTTLE

pairing: boyracer!jk x fem reader - mutual disdain to lovers synopsis: in which jeon jungkook hates speed limits, the local government, and the way that min yoongi looks at you. current wc: 160,244 warnings: explicit language, drug usage, violence, dangerous driving, smut, and themes of an adult nature. not a mafia au, but teeters around the edges of it. organised crime and corruption are at the heart of the story. the characters have questionable morals and do dumb shit. be prepared to hate them as much as you love them. jungkook is a tittie luvr. no further questions.

BAD DECISIONS - link will take you to the clubdionysus tumblr!

pairing: bartender!jungkook x female reader | strangers-friends-lovers, fwb synopsis: it’s simple: write your deepest darkest fears on origami birds and string them up on jungkook’s ceiling. when they fall—which they inevitably will, thanks to his cheap daiso washi tape—you have to face the fear. set it free. the issue? you’ve a fear of intimacy. jungkook, a fear of rejection. and you’ve both got the capacity to make some incredibly bad decisions. current w/c: 450k notes: smut, fluff, a lil angst, bartender!jk, student!jk, strangers-to-friends-to-lovers (?), fwb, deal arrangement, undefined relationship (they’re just friends! just besties!!), miscommunication, idiots in love, emotional slow burn, bucket list (a.k.a. the birds 2024 note: wattpad took down bad decisions as part of their 2024 purge </3. it's now hosted on it's very own tumblr (clubdionysus) and over on ao3!

BAD DECISIONS SMUT INDEX

ONE SHOTS

extended - 5k words or more

ONCE THE THRILL EXPIRES

pairing: college!jungkook x female reader synopsis: your housemate-turned-fwb takes another girl home after a night out wordcount: 5.8K notes: angsty, smutty turmoil. it’s not that bad, but it definitely isn’t a happy lil number. fingering, oral sex (f receiving), rimming (f receiving), vaginal sex, doggy, protected (!!) sex, lil spanks, jaykay sorta makes out with her ear???, jaykay is a fawk boy who needs to learn self-control, oc is holding out for something that’ll never happen, multiple partners in one night (jk), jk calls the reader diz (dizzy)

LANDSLIDES

pairing: officeworker!jungkook x female reader (coworkers) synopsis: jungkook asks you to dog sit over chuseok. he doesn’t ask you to steal the empty spaces in his head, the dreams he’s yet to have, nor the idea of you always just being ‘you’ to him - and yet, like a thief in the night (with his own damn dog as your accomplice), you do. wordcount: 6.8K warnings: fluff more than angst, but it’s not clean cut - there’s also a touch of smut. office worker jk, fuck boy (but kind!) jk, mentions of his workplace escapades, oc is dating mingyu (yay), oc sorta fancies jk (boo), solo masturbation (m), vivid thoughts of shagging (jk is a perv! wow! unlike me to write him as randy bastard!), lots of facetime calls, oc and jk are fundamentally flawed as a pairing, genuine friendship, daddy kink? ig? but like kinda sweet?, jungkook has a complex brain house and you’ve been banished to his annexe!! he also has a thing for claw clipped hair lol

ONE SHOTS

short - under 5k words

something borrowed

- mafia au | forbidden love

dance with the devil

- royalty au | former lovers

KNJ

ONE SHOTS

short - under 5k words

back to you

- idol au | exes

KSJ

MYG

SERIES

HUSH

pairing: rockstar!yoongi x female reader | mutual disdain - lovers (but also strangers - lovers? kinda?) synopsis: in which you work for your brothers band by day and accidentally anonymously sext his bandmate on the regular by night! whoops ! current w/c: 17.5k notes: okay, where to start with this one lmao, sexting! and i mean… a lot of sexting (so much sexting oc will probably get early-onset arthritis in her thumbs), yoongi is a dick, he also hates nepotism, and in turn, you. oh yeah, you’re jin’s sister, you work with the band on tour. jin, yoongi, tae, jk and joon are in The Scouts aka the hottest band since sliced bread. jimin is their tour manager, hobi works up in the head office (he’s sleazy and i love him). slight love triangle, one-near-footjob (and counting!), eventual smut, a little angst, dating app that is exclusively for celebrities / people in the public eye, one incredibly inconvenient pairing, yoongi calls the oc clementine / clemmie and it’s cuter than it sounds, idk how else to explain this, mistaken identity i guess? although not really? look, just read it lol. smut warnings will be on chapters individually!!

PALLADIUM

pairing: dilf!yoongi x reader // friends to lovers, slowburn, eventual smut synopsis: min yoongi is urgent.  in the way he bites his nails down to the bed, and the way his sore fingers type out desperate sentences just minutes before deadlines, he is urgent. how he prepares jaehyun’s day bag before grandma comes by, and how he double checks everything is packed, he is urgent.  the requests for you to watch over jaehyun each and every deadline day are, always, predictably, urgent. but the way min yoongi falls in love with you is slow. gradual. tepid. until, like everything with min yoongi, it becomes urgent.   wordcount: 3.2K notes: three part series, fluff, angst, eventual smut, yoongi is incredibly conflicted, the oc is just as dumbfounded by the way she feels, lots of feelings!!

JHS

PJM

KTH

ONE SHOTS

short - under 5k words

sundae (kinda love)

- childhood friends | angst

[rwrbficrecs]

First monthly faves for 2024 !! ❤️

Leave a message by @sherryvalli (book-verse)

@dot524: In the mood for some cute, heart-melting fluff? This is a one-shot that recounts Alex’s voicemail messages over the years from those who care about him - including Henry.

would you be my love, my love? (would you be mine) by ohprongs (book-verse)

@wilmonsfolklore: a strictly come dancing AU with a lot of feelings that I've been thinking about ever since i read it!!!

even though we know it isn't true by @matherines (book-verse)

@wilmonsfolklore: for everyone struggling with academic pressure, or anyone, really. it's pretty sad but of course there's comfort personified in Henry!!

beyond infatuation, how obsessively i adore you by @waterloolovers (book-verse)

@wilmonsfolklore: a new fandom classic if you ask me. Henry works at the daycare Alex's daughter goes to and their relationship progresses really naturally. the kid content in this fic is some of the cutest i have ever read and this is the perfect fic to go on your reread list for comfort.

And They Were Roommates by @14carrotghoul (book-verse)

@na-dineee: Alex and Henry get to know themselves and each other after they move in together. This story is not sugarcoated at all, very realistic - just how life is, and so so sweet. Also, unfortunately, rather short, but still worth the read - as are many other stories by this author, such as the 'Las flores' series.

Spirit of the Season by @pridepages (book-verse)

@heybuddy-drabbles: A little late to the game but I finally read E.J's Christmas story. Her way of story telling doesn't disappoint in this shorter tale (by her standards). It's not lighthearted and it touches some difficult topics (mostly canon) but it's all worth it because of the way they fall in love through Christmas Eve/night. Can't recommend it enough!

Where There Are Octobers by @iboatedhere (book-verse)

@na-dineee: 31 short chapters that are just really fun to read! Some are post-canon or canon-compliant, others are AUs - but in all of them the characters are so beautifully drawn, true to how we know and love them! A vet AU, a hospital AU, major fluff, even an X-Files AU - and who knows, maybe one or two dribbles will turn into more?! Fingers crossed!

The Art of Losing by bigfishbigpond (book-verse)

@dot524: If you think the mid-story breakup should have been longer and more angsty, here’s the story for you. An interesting and heartfelt story of what Henry and Alex are like apart, and what pulls them back together.

I know that you hate me (Do you though?) by @arand0mdutchgirl (book-verse)

@magnificentandcoolfez: A bit of good ADHD angst (with some comfort ofc). I like the focus on how hard adhd can be and it's a short and good read for those who like comfort that comes in the shape of your crush holding you until you feel grounded again.

blushing ears and beating hearts by @kill8a (book-verse)

@na-dineee: This story is not just slow burn, it is glacial burn. It's an college AU, set in New York, and so slow, so tender, so fluffy - after reading it I was floating on cloud 9 for quite a while. I don't know if you feel the same way, but it's funny how changing one given variable somehow changes the whole dynamic between the two of them. Or is it just me?! Either way, it's so wholesome to tag along as their love blossoms, I still feel so hugged and cared for.

all so human with our guards down by @maxbegone (book-verse)

@myheartalivewrites: a post-apocalyptic story that is unlike any other. There are no zombies or gore, but instead it focuses on rebuilding and the softest love growing between Alex and Henry, surrounded by family and friends. I kinda wanted to live there by the end of it.

The Snow Prince by @orchidscript (book-verse)

@zwiazdziarka: several fairy tale tropes meet to create this absolutely amazing story. It has dreaminess of a fable, best kind of yearning of your favourite slow burn fics and a little bit of adventure of a fantasy novel.

but to say that I'm a rainbow, to tell me that I'm bright (when I'm so used to feeling wrong, well, it helps me feel alright.) by What_Is_A_Mild_Opinion (book-verse)

@zwiazdziarka: Fandom is really sleeping on this one! This story is a canon rewrite with characters reimagined as creatures with animal characteristics. The wordbuilding is so fantastic that even if you are not a fan of long fics following canon step by step, it's absolutely worth to check this even for a chapter or two and get to know these wonderful versions of Alex and Henry. (Alex is literally rainbow.)

safe with me / more than I ever (in a thousand years)by @indomitable-love (book-verse)

@na-dineee: I think the author is very well known among all rwrb fanfic readers. I really, really liked these two stories, like a lot: Two 5+1 fics, one from Pez's point of view, the other from Bea's - unfortunately both characters are given too little attention in the book imho. As expected, both narrators are sharply observing, protective of Henry, loving, honest, tender - and you end up loving Henry (and Alex) even more.

check out our past Monthly Faves here ❤️

[mandos-mind-trick]

The Soldier and The Spy

Summary: You're a Separatist spy. It's only ironic that your soulmate fights for the other side.

Pairings: Fives x reader

Warnings: NSFW, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, fingering, oral, 69, face sitting, Fives is subby, Republic bashing hardcore, enemies to lovers but it happens fast, Soulmate AU, ANGST

A/N: So this was very different when I first imagined it and then this idea took over. It might be the first angsty fic that doesn't have a clear happy ending. Let's just say it's only happy if you see it that way. I actually don't hate this one, but you might hate me for writing it.

MASTERLIST

Your feet pound against the stone path as you run. Just a bit further. You’re almost to your ship. If you can reach it, you have a greater chance of escape. Of course, you had to navigate around the warship hovering in the atmosphere, but at least you wouldn’t be vulnerable and on foot.

You can hear them behind you, the clacking of their plastoid armor, the occasional calling out of orders and directions. Your only advantage is your lack of armor. You’re lighter, and faster, and you knew where you were going. 

You scramble up the steps onto the landing platform, not slowing as you race towards your ship. 

You’re almost there, just within reach when a hand shoots out, grabbing your elbow. You feel a pop in your shoulder as you’re violently redirected, your back slamming against the side of your ship. You’re quickly pinned, staring up at a clone’s helmet. He’s breathing heavily, chest heaving as he stares down at you. He must have been on foot, so how had he managed to pass you? 

“You give a good chase, sweetheart,” He says, pinning you tight against the side of your ship. His vambrace digs into your chest, making it hard to breathe. “But not good enough.”

Your eyes widen in shock. Those words have been printed on your chest, just over your heart, for the last ten years. You spent countless hours trying to imagine just what situation you’ll find yourself in where those words make sense. You spent hours picturing just who was going to say them to you. 

You certainly hadn’t thought it would be this. Nor had you thought it would be a clone saying them to you. 

“You’re one cocky bastard, aren’t you?” You smirk, knowing he’s had that line printed on his skin too. 

You can see when it registers, his hold on you lessening just slightly as he processes the situation. You’re one step ahead, using his surprise to your advantage. You drive a knee upwards, hitting him right where his codpiece ends. He doubles over, releasing you enough that you can slip out of his hold, running for the ramp of your ship. 

You’re almost there, but he recovers faster than you expected him to, your body going rigid as he stuns you before you drop, falling unconscious. 

***

You wake in a cell. You could guess where you were before you even opened your eyes. You’re stretched out on a cot, hardly more than a metal bed. It’s certainly not the most uncomfortable place you’ve woken in before. You push yourself to sit, wincing at the pain in your shoulder. That clone must have dislocated it when he grabbed you. 

Your soulmate. 

The clone that’s your soulmate. 

Ironic, really, that you would end up on opposite sides of the war. It wasn’t like you had much of a choice. As a clone, he had no choice on which side he fought for. Clones. The Republic’s loyal flesh machines that would happily lay down their lives for a system that doesn’t care about them. The Republic would resort to using living beings to fight. At least battle droids aren’t alive. They don’t feel, they don’t breathe, they barely think. 

You sigh, trying to move your injured shoulder. A deep ache burns through you, your shoulder hardly moving at all. It feels tight and swollen, and you can just imagine a huge bruise on your skin. 

“Excuse me.” You say, turning to face the energy shield keeping you in the cell. The two troopers stationed outside turn to look at you. “Can I see a medic? I think your buddy dislocated my shoulder when he grabbed me.” 

They share a look before one walks away. You hope they are actually getting a medic. A dislocated shoulder is hardly the worst injury you’ve had to live with, but you’re not exactly thrilled about being injured on an enemy ship. Not that you had any hopes of escaping. There were probably thousands of clones crawling every inch of this ship and the chances of you getting into the landing bay to steal a ship successfully were small. 

Going up against hundreds, if not thousands, of trained soldiers by yourself? Well, you’ve already lost to one. 

You’re left waiting an immeasurable amount of time before more troopers arrive, flanking whom you can only assume is the Jedi general. You’ve never met a Jedi before. You’ve never really seen one either. Part of your job was to avoid them at all costs, and you’ve been successful, up to this point. 

You assume they’re not here to fix your shoulder.

You meet the gaze of the Jedi as he and the two troopers enter your cell, not backing down despite how much you’d like to. His gaze is sharp, piercing right into you like he’s reading your very soul. From what little you know about Jedi, he might actually be doing that. He looks young, though. Not much younger than yourself. 

“You’re more well behaved than I figured a Separatist spy might be in this situation.” He says, breaking the tense silence. 

“Then you must not have much experience with Separatists.” You counter, testing the boundaries. 

A smirk tugs at one corner of his mouth. “You gonna make this easy on me?” 

You scoff, leaning back against the wall. “You really don’t have much experience with Separatists, then.” 

The Jedi shrugs. “You don’t have to talk to me. I know the Republic will do their own questioning when we arrive. If you’re willing to talk now, it might make that a little easier.” 

You stare at him for a moment. “Aren’t you supposed to be able to force me to talk with your little magic tricks?” 

He smirks. “That’s only reserved for dire situations. The Jedi look down on using the Force to interrogate even Separatists.” 

You sit up a little straighter. “Why do I get the feeling you’re not like most Jedi?” 

He smirks at you before turning to one of the troopers behind him. They both leave your cell, leaving you behind with one of the troopers. It’s the one that caught you. 

Your soulmate. 

He and the other clone leave the cell, leaving you and your soulmate alone. He stands there, staring at you for a while. You stare back, right into his visor. You wonder what he’s thinking, what his plan is. He could reject you. You had heard something about clones rejecting their soulmates. Maybe he hopes rejecting you will force you into speaking. 

“You just gonna stand there or are you going to interrogate me?” You ask, breaking the silence.

He finally moves, lifting his hands to remove his helmet. You stare at his face, pretty much what you would expect. You know what the clones look like, generally. He has the standard face, the standard haircut. He has a goatee, though, and an Aurebesh “5” tattooed on the side of his head. His eyes are brown, deep and expressive as they stare at you. 

“I’m not here to interrogate you.” He finally says. “Like the General said, the GAR will take care of that once we get back to Coruscant.” He stares at your face for a moment. “I’m sorry for hurting you.”

You huff out a laugh. “You wouldn’t be saying that if I wasn’t your soulmate. If I remember correctly I was just some ‘Separatist scum.’” 

His jaw clenches, brow furrowing as he stares at you. “Why would you join the Separatists?” 

“Why do you fight for the Republic?” You counter. 

You’ve backed him into a corner. You know it, and he knows it. 

“If you actually knew the truth about the Republic you fight for, I don’t think you’d be so willing to lay down your life for it.” You say. 

“The truth?” His fists clench at his sides, and you know you’ve struck a nerve. The clones really are just mindlessly loyal. “What, the propaganda the Separatists feed their citizens?” 

“You don’t think the Republic feeds propaganda to its citizens too? You think so highly of a Republic that is just a bunch of cushy Senators that sit in a building and debate endlessly while their people die by the thousands across the entire galaxy every day.” 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” He says, starting to get angry. 

“No?” You raise an eyebrow at him. “Maybe you should start paying more attention. What are you really to the Republic? Just another number, right?” 

He turns his back to you, shoulders squared. “I’d never join the Separatists.” 

“I’m not asking you to.” You say. You’ve pressed some buttons. You know that. “Aren’t you supposed to reject me?” 

He deflates a bit, his head drooping. “We’re supposed to. It’s what the GAR wants.” 

You close your good hand into a fist. Just another way to dehumanize their human army. You’d expect nothing less. 

“Most of us don’t agree. We don’t follow that rule.” He turns back around, staring at you. “It’s not fair. To us, or to our soulmates. The General doesn’t care either. A lot of them don’t. I’m not going to reject you. I made a promise to someone, and even if he’s gone, I’m keeping my half of that promise. I need you to promise me something.” 

You stay quiet, staring at him, waiting for him to continue. You’d never agree to a promise unless you knew what it was. 

“There will be GAR officials waiting when we land to take you into custody. I don’t know exactly what will happen after that, but I can imagine they’ll question you. They might offer you a deal. Whatever happens, just don’t mention our connection. Don’t say anything about soulmates. We were put together for a reason. We’re not just going to meet this once and that be it.” 

You stay quiet, your gaze on the floor. He’s asking a lot of someone he just met, someone on the opposite side of the war. As much as you want to believe him, you know you’re likely headed to a prison cell where you’ll spend the rest of your life. Stealing Republic data for the Separatists was not a good look, and the likelihood of them offering any sort of deal is slim. You don’t know enough about the Separatist leadership or plans to offer much in exchange. You just break into Republic information systems and steal its data. 

It’s not looking good for you. 

“I can’t promise anything.” You finally say. 

You can’t look at him. You don’t know why, but you can’t bring yourself to look at his face. Shame burns through you, and you hate it. He’s just another clone, someone who could die tomorrow for all you know. 

He’s your soulmate. 

He sighs, putting his helmet back on, moving toward the energy shield. “Fives.” He says, pausing before he steps through. “My name’s Fives, because my designation number is all fives.” 

He leaves you then, not turning back to look at you. 

You keep your gaze down, your face burning as tears start to form. You hate it. You hate that you feel this way. You’re not supposed to care about them, about anyone. You get data, you deliver it to a designated spot, then you get paid. That’s all you care about. 

You don’t care about a stupid clone. 

You sit, fighting tears for another immeasurable amount of time. It’s hard to tell how much time has passed with no chronometer. A window would have been nice, at least to have something other than grey walls and the troopers guarding your cell. Staring at them only makes you feel worse. 

More troopers arrive and for a moment you’re scared you’ve landed and you’re about to meet your fate. They approach the cell, speaking quietly to the two troopers outside before the energy shield is lowered, three of them stepping in. You stare at the one approaching you, the medic’s symbol on his shoulder. 

He kneels down in front of you silently, scanning your shoulder. “Dislocated.” He says, putting the scanner away. He stands, taking your arm in his hands. “I’ll reset it on three. One, two.” He pushes on your shoulder, an audible pop sounding as it moves back into place. 

You let out a yelp, glaring up at him. “What happened to three?” 

“You would have tensed on three.” He says, pressing against the joint with his fingers. “Makes it easier for both of us if you’re relaxed.” 

He pulls an injector from his belt, stabbing you in the shoulder with it. You make another noise as he injects the bacta, rubbing your shoulder when he’s done. A bit rough for a medic, but you are the enemy here. 

“Thanks.” You say, already feeling the pain lessen as the bacta works. 

He stares at you for a second, obviously taken aback by your politeness. Just because you’re a Separatist doesn’t mean you have to be an asshole all the time. 

They leave you alone again, left to nothing but your thoughts. You almost would have preferred another interrogation. 

***

You’re carted away by more troopers as soon as the ship lands. It’s a bit ridiculous just how many of them are there. They must not successfully capture Separatists often. 

You’re immediately taken into an interrogation. It’s a good tactic, really. You’re exhausted and hungry and just ready for them to throw you in a cell for the rest of your life already. 

You don’t make it easy for them, though. It’s not your nature. 

After days of grueling interrogation and a lack of sleep, they finally offer you an ultimatum. You’re surprised they’ve offered you a deal, but perhaps the war was not waging as well as they liked to make it seem. 

Life in prison, or work for them. 

Neither of the options are ideal, and both are the same in a way. Your life would be under intense watch and scrutiny regardless, but the chances of you getting eaten or worse under the GAR’s watch was significantly less. 

You only regret choosing to work for the GAR a little. Your data scraping skills were less important to them as your code breaking skills. Turns out they aren’t as skilled as they like to pretend, and the absolute nonsense the droids used to encrypt the Separatist files is hard for them. 

If it keeps you out of a prison cell, then whatever. You’ll do it. 

Maybe Fives had been right. 

You force that thought out of your mind as fast as it arrives. You’ll deal with that later. 

You have enough to worry about with the GAR’s incessant chokehold on you. You swear you can’t even use the fresher without them constantly surveying your every move. You get it, they’re just trying to make sure you’re not going to betray them or try and run. It’s not like you really have anywhere else to go. Or anyone to share secrets with anymore. 

More than likely the Separatists would execute you as a traitor if you tried to return, and even if they didn’t, what do you really have to return to? 

Besides, your soulmate is here. 

You hate yourself for it, but you kept his promise. You didn’t breathe a word of Fives and your connection to him. They didn’t ask about your soulmate, other than taking note of the words on your chest at intake. Easy identification, you know that. Not that you were really planning to escape. Not that you have the skills to even try. 

As much as you try to fight it, you can’t help but think about Fives. Where he is, if he’s alright. You know it’s just the connection talking, the beginning of your bond that had been formed when you spoke the words to each other. It’s only going to get worse the longer you’re apart from him. He must know you kept your promise, and you can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking. You can imagine the cocky smirk on his face when he realized you hadn’t spilled anything. You had kept his promise despite not agreeing to. 

Maker, you hate yourself sometimes. 

As the weeks pass, and you continue to prove your obedience to the GAR, they begin to lessen their chokehold on your every movement. You know part of it is the shifting of the war, the Republic barely managing to keep a leg up on the Separatists. You manage to get some freedom, able to go places within a short distance from the base. It’s in this new found freedom, you get back into contact with Fives. 

One of the 501st troopers approaches you while you’re away from the base, and for a moment you think he’s there to take you back, but instead he passes by, slipping a comm device into your hand. You slip it into your pocket, grabbing what you need before heading back to the base. 

You shut yourself in the fresher, the only place you have any privacy, pulling out the comm device. You stare at it for a moment. This could be a trap, an attempt by the GAR to either out your soulmate, or out you as not being as loyal as you tried to make them believe you were. 

“Hello?” You give in, speaking into it. You don’t care, you need to hear Fives’ voice again. The need, the itching under your skin to be close to him has almost become unbearable. If you can just hear his voice, maybe it will ease the ache just a bit. 

“Hello, mesh’la.” His voice comes through, your breath leaving in a relieved huff of air. “It’s good to hear your voice.” 

“I didn’t think it would really be you.” You say, leaning your head against the wall. You’re relieved to hear his voice, if only as proof it’s not a trap. 

“Why wouldn’t it be me?” You can practically hear the smirk in his voice. “Did you think this was a trap?” 

“Yes.” You admit. “I wouldn’t put it past the GAR.” 

“Then why did you use it?” 

You want to reach through the comm and slap the smirk off his face. “Maybe because I was hoping it was the Separatists coming to rescue me.” 

It’s quiet for a moment. “I probably wouldn’t joke about that.” 

You glance around the ceiling of the fresher, half expecting to find a hidden camera or a recording device. “Probably not. They’ve had quite the chokehold on me for a while.” 

“I know. It took some planning just for this to happen.” He sounds tired. Weary. You wonder just how badly he’s been feeling, since he has to still fight a war on top of everything else. “You didn’t say anything.” 

You swallow the lump in your throat, pulling your knees to your chest. “I didn’t say anything.” 

“I’d like to see you again.” He says, his voice so soft, so disarming.

“If you can pull that off, I’ll be impressed.” You say. 

“I have something in the works. We’ll be returning to Coruscant soon. Just be prepared.” 

“That’s helpful.” You say. 

“I can’t give too much away. It has to seem genuine. If the GAR suspects anything...” 

“I know.” You say. “It’ll spell trouble for us both. I’d rather not have to go to prison if I can help it. I very much like having my little bit of freedom.” 

“I’d like to not be decommissioned either.” He goes quiet for a moment. “I have to go. Just keep an eye out in a few days.” 

“Okay.” You say, trying not to smile. 

You hate the way he makes you feel. 

*** A Few Months Later ***

You anxiously pace the small living area in your tiny apartment. You haven’t been able to sit still since the comm message came in last night. You barely slept, mind too busy racing to rest much. You look a mess, despite your best efforts to make yourself appear put together. 

Maker, you have it bad. 

Over the last few months the GAR had continued to loosen its watchful hold over your life, and they had allowed you to move into your own apartment just off the base. You know they’re still watching, still making sure nothing suspicious is going on, but you’re glad for a little bit of freedom. You know they’ve also done it because the war has been shifting even more. Things are not going as well as they’d hoped, and allocating resources to watching ex-Separatist spies who willingly defected to join the GAR was not high on their list anymore. 

You’re glad for the privacy, because it makes seeing Fives easier. The first time he’d seen you after your defection had been a process that involved his general and his captain. A quick fib about needing your help with some data they had on board had led to you and Fives fucking in the empty barracks. It had gotten easier to sneak away as the GAR loosened its hold on you. 

You’ve only seen Fives three times since then, as his trips to Coruscant were becoming few and far between. You hate it, the time you have to spend apart. It’s getting harder and harder as the bond continues to strengthen between you. You’re going insane, and talking isn’t enough anymore. You want to be with him all the time, but you know that’s not possible. 

A knock sounds at your door and your heart jumps. You swallow the nerves, the excitement. You don’t want to look like you’ve been waiting for a visitor if it’s not Fives. That would raise questions and that’s the last thing you need. 

You take a peek out the viewport before opening the door. “Fives!” 

“Hello, mesh’la.” He smirks, opening his arms. 

You tug him into your apartment, letting the door close behind him. You wrap your arms around him, tugging him down into a kiss. He meets your lips eagerly, his hands roaming all over your body as if to make sure you’re still whole, still real. 

“Someone missed me.” He smirks, trying to pull away from your lips, but you tangle a hand in his hair, pulling him back. He laughs, his hands settling on your hips. 

Your hands tug at his armor, starting to take it off piece by piece. 

“Easy, little loth cat.” He says, stilling your hands. “We have a few hours.” 

You give him a look. “If you don’t hurry up and get inside me, I will kick you out on the street.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” He laughs, letting you tug him back towards the bedroom. 

You tug your own shirt over your head, helping him remove pieces of his armor. He’s already half hard, your hand ghosting over the bulge under his blacks. He lets out a quiet sound, hips attempting to push against your hand, but you move it. 

“Evil.” He grunts, looping his fingers under your waistband. He tugs your pants down, eyes widening as he sees the lack of underwear underneath. “You were waiting for this.” 

“Yes.” You say, tugging his shirt over his head. “I need you so kriffing bad.” 

“We’ve got a few hours.” He says, tugging his blacks down his legs. “But I have to leave early. We’re shipping out to Ringo Vinda in the morning.” 

You wrap your arms around his neck, standing on your toes to press your forehead against his. “I hate when you have to leave.” 

“I know.” He kisses you softly. “I’m here now. That’s what matters.” 

You kiss him back, letting him lead you backwards towards the bed. He turns, lifting you into his arms before he lays back on the bed. He pulls away for a moment to groan in satisfaction, going lax under you. 

“I miss how comfortable this bed is.” He says, stretching his arms out.

You shrug. “I’ve slept in better.” 

He grabs your thighs, tugging you closer. “Cheeky.” He tugs you further up his body. “Sit on my face.” 

You breathe out a curse, moving yourself so you’re hovering over him. You grab onto the headboard, his hands closing around your thighs to tug you down so you’re sitting on him. His mouth immediately meets your pussy, already wet. You’ve been wet since this morning, thinking about having him all to yourself once again. Your fingers were never enough, and it only made you miss him more. 

He closes his lips around your clit, sucking harshly. You let out a cry, tangling a hand in his hair. It’s been a while, too busy to even bother getting yourself off. Your hips grind against his face as he shifts slightly lower, nose bumping your clit as he licks at your opening. He groans something inaudible, his tongue pressing into you as his hands guide you to continue grinding against his face. 

He sucks on your clit once more and you’re cumming, legs shaking as you soak his face. He holds you there, licking you clean as you come down from your high. You shift off his face, his skin shining with your slick.

“Kriff.” You whisper as you stare down at him, his eyes dark with lust. “That’s a good look on you.” 

He smirks wickedly. “Well, hopefully soon it’ll be a permanent look.” 

You make a quiet noise, biting your lip at the thought. Having him whenever, wherever you want. That’s the dream. “My turn.” You say, turning around so your back is to him, laying yourself flat on his stomach so you’re face to face with his cock. 

He groans, hands spreading your folds. “That’s a beautiful sight right there.” 

You take him into your mouth as he presses a finger into you. His groan vibrates through your body, the stretch of his fingers making you moan around him. He breathes out a curse, slipping a second finger into you. He pumps them lazily as you suck his cock, keeping your hand tight around the base. You debate sucking the soul right out of him, but you want him to cum inside you. You want him inside you. Badly. 

You pull yourself away before he can cum, making him whine. You sit up, moving so you’re straddling his hips. You give him a smirk, his lips parting as he stares at you. 

“Oh, kriff.” He breathes, staring at you wide eyed as you grab his cock, sinking down onto it. 

You moan at the stretch, your very soul seeming to relax as you take every inch of him. He’s so big, no matter how many times you take him, it’s always a stretch. He’s breathing heavily under you, eyes wide as he stares up at you. 

“Feel so good.” You moan, rocking your hips just slightly. “Missed you.” 

“Kriff,” He curses, hands gripping your hips. “Missed you too.” 

You curse, lifting yourself up just slightly before sinking back down. “So good for me.” You say, tracing his chest. 

Something changes in his gaze at your words, his hands tightening around your hips. You’re already sensitive from your first orgasm, sweat beginning to slick your skin as you bounce on top of him. His eyes lock onto your breasts as you move, hands cupping your ass. You’ve been trying to figure out which is his favorite, but you haven’t been successful. 

Maybe he just likes all of you. 

The feeling is mutual. 

You continue to move on top of him, bouncing and grinding as you chase your second of what will be many orgasms tonight. Fives is moaning and whining under you, close to his own orgasm. You watch his face, the way it morphs into nothing but pure pleasure as you squeeze around him, drawing his first orgasm of the night from him. 

His hands are bruising around your hips, your hand slipping around to your front to circle your clit. You cum a second time, shaking above him as you brace your hands on his stomach. He watches you through lidded eyes as you cum, drawing your pleasure from him. 

He pulls you down onto his chest, smoothing his hands across your back. You’re both sweaty and panting, but you’re far from finished with each other. 

“A minute.” You breathe, letting yourself go limp on top of him. “Gimme a minute.” 

“That good, huh?” He smirks. 

You make a face, shaking your head. “You cocky bastard.”  

***

“Fives?” You ask, tracing patterns on his chest. It’s late, both of you well fucked and satiated for the time being. You know he has to go in a couple hours, slip out of your small apartment and head back to the base. 

He hums in response, eyes closed and half asleep. 

You take a deep breath, scared to bring up the topic you had been avoiding speaking about. You hadn’t trusted to talk about it over the comms, needing to say it directly to his face. “Would you ever consider deserting?” 

He’s awake now, eyes snapping open. “What?” 

“Would you ever consider deserting the GAR?” You ask again. 

He sits up, practically pushing you off him. “Why would you even ask that?” 

You sit up, pulling the sheets up to cover your chest. “I’m scared, Fives.” You admit, voice wavering. “I overheard something, and it’s scaring me.” 

“What did you hear?” He asks, brows furrowing. 

“I caught part of an encrypted conversation. It was something about some plan to wipe out the Republic using the clones.” 

Fives stands from the bed, shaking his head. “That’s...that’s ridiculous. You don’t even know if it’s true.” 

“But what if it is?” You plead with him, staring at his back. “I’m scared, Fives. If anyone finds out I overheard that...we’re all in danger.” 

Fives stares out the small window in your bedroom, hands closed in fists at his side. He’s wound tight, like a coil about to spring. You stare at his back, begging for anything, any sign that he might believe you.

“What do you expect us to do?” He finally says, turning around. 

“Leave.” You say. “Go somewhere they can’t find us.” 

“I can’t just abandon my brothers. Especially if what you heard is true.” 

“Who could we even tell that would believe us?” You ask. “For all we know every high-ranking GAR official is in on it. If this is as big as it’s sounding, everyone could be in on it.” You reach out for him, your hand shaking. “I’m scared, Fives. I don’t want to lose you.” 

He sighs, taking your hand, letting you pull him back onto the bed. He wraps his arms around you, holding onto you tightly. “You won’t lose me.” He kisses your forehead. He pulls the sheets around you, surrounding you with his warm embrace. “Right now, let’s just forget about the war. Forget about everything. We’ll worry about this tomorrow.” 

Taglist:

@stressed-cherry, @6oceansofmoons,  @ladytano420, @spicy-clones, @dangraccoon, @bobaprint, @star-trekker-0013, @stunkbiggu, @endofthexline, @padawancat97 @arctrooper69 @wolffegirlsunite @rosechi

[suspiciousspidey]

Tony Stark Fic Recs

A list of my favorite fics featuring Tony Stark, from tumblr and ao3.

Writers: If you'd like your fic removed from this list, please send me a message!

Reminder: As always, your media consumption is your responsibility. Please read the writers content warnings/tags! And, if you like their work? Spread some love to them!

Drunken Confessions by @larcenywrites

- Tony makes a drunken confession, and a conversation is had the next morning. The smut in this is so sO good.

BOTH Masterlists by @larcenywrites

- Just trust me. It's all good. You want to read it all.

- Author's Summary: "Soulmates AU - Sally Manners has spent her life avoiding the man whose name is etched on the inside of her thigh. Until suddenly she can't. No tie in with any other fics I've written. Tony/OC"

Cover You In Oil by Star_trekkin_across_theuniverse on ao3 (to read this one you must be logged into an ao3 account)

- This is SO GOOD. It's one of the first tony/oc fics I've ever read and it's one I do go back to.

Exile All The Longer by Darsynia on ao3 (also on Tumblr @darsynia)

- Author's Summary: "Tony lost Pepper in the Snap. What he gains, what EARTH gains, is a 'gift' from Thanos: Soulmates. Some say that the mad Titan used the stones to do this out of respect for Earth's role in his grand design, others say it's to make those left behind complacent, docile-- even grateful.

Tony isn't grateful. He's pissed. His Words are a cruel slap in the face, and the whole concept is bullshit. He spends a year doing right by the world with his company and then settles down to build his lake house. Tony falls for his smart, gorgeous architect as easy as breathing, all the while feeling self-righteous about the whole 'inevitability' of Soulmates. He's beat the system, fallen in love the old-fashioned way. All Tony has to do is get her to actually speak to him, instead of by text or email.

And then she does. She says his Words."

- YALL. THE SLOW BURN IN THIS?? Godly. It is SO GOOD. So detailed. The angst??? Whoooo buddy. This fic had me on the edge of my seat, biting my fist, it was that good. It had me by the throat and honestly it still does. I should probably be embarrassed of how many times I've reread it, but I'm not.

Two Wicks, One Flame by AmberSnapeBlack on ao3

- Author's Summary: "Emma has had it rough her whole life. Her experiences have shaped her into who she is today, a twenty three year old bus girl with no self esteem or backbone. She hates the lime light...well she hates socializing at all. She has never paid her soul mark any mind. Most days, she forgets it even exists. That will change for her in a way she never anticipated.

What comes with bearing the soul mark of the man who is the forefront of the Avengers? Who is almost always in lime light? Who is possibly, already taken? Does she want to know?"

- SUCH A GOOD FIC. You can't help but root for Emma. There are real sweet parts but some real angsty ones too. Also, it was interesting to read a fic with Pep being a not-so-nice-guy.

[spacerockwriting]

Gallavich intro

Thank you so much @callivich for making a gallavich intro meme thing!

Name: Comet

Age: 32

What made you fall in love with Gallavich? Their story. I love angsty plots and shit, and Idk. I just really fell hard for them. Like really hard. And having shitty dads is something I relate to, sooo that might be an added thing.

How long have you been a fan? Since like May? I was binging the show 3-4 times a day to get through all 11 seasons. I'm rebinging it again, so there's that.

Favourite Gallavich moment/scene? I'm rewatching season 1, so I do love the Mandy/Ian/Mickey moments we see. But I think Mickey taking care of Ian with his bipolar is one of my favorite moments. We're seeing just how much Mickey cares. As someone with mental illness, I really love seeing that. Ngl, I also love Groomzilla Mick and the wild ride of season 11.

Favourite Shameless character apart from Ian and Mickey? So it's probably Lip and Carl. I love Ian and Lip's closeness, and I love how chaotic and unhinged Carl is. Just shit like where do the gay weiners go? makes me crack up.

Do you write or draw or make edits? Yes!!! Been posting my writing here! And I'll link the full fic on A03 when I'm finished! Haven't done any edits or anything, but maybe I'll start. Good excuse to get out my tablet.

Favourite type of Gallavich fics? I'm pretty open. I like angst, substance, slow burn. I do a lot of fic reading at work, so please send me recommedations for stuff! I prefer long completed fics for those instances. AU's work, slow burn, canon divergence. The only thing I'm not really into is the A/B/O stuff. I also like fluffy onshots! I'll read those before bed, usually.

Favourite Gallavich quote? "Don't." "IAN GALLAGHERRRRR!!" Mickey's soft I love you. The unhinged S11: "That's Gay. We're Gay. Not that Gay." "Man I hate the fucking gays with all their meh and their bleh." Also not gallavich but I say Not cool, Jimmy-Steve like once a day at least.

Anything else you’d like to share about yourself? I'm really glad to be in this fandom as Shameless as been my hyperfixation for a while now. I'm so glad to be in such a welcoming fandom! Also @galladrabbles has been what I look forward to every week so there's that!

[she-who-the-river-could-not-hold]

20 questions For Fic Writers

tagged by @queen-of-the-wallflowers15 – thank you so much darling!!

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 76 on my main account, 3 on my secondary

2. What’s your total AO3 word count? 889,141

3. What fandoms do you write for? The 100, Stranger Things, and Six of Crows are my main three. On my semi-secret 🌶️ AO3 account, I did one Until Dawn AU and I could see that account exploring a few more fandoms. As for my main, I'm not sure if it'll change up any time soon!

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

"Stardust, In You and In Me" [Bellarke] | wc: 32.7k | rated: T | tags: soulmate/soulmark au, college au, slow burn "I Heard You" [Mike x Eleven] | wc: 24.6k | rated: G | tags: college au, fluff, dating "Traces of You" [Bellarke] | wc: 23k | rated: T | tags: royalty au, arranged marriage au, slow burn "In the Gravity of You" [Bellarke] | wc: 7.6k | rated: T | tags: sci-fi setting, fake dating, fluff "Prisoner's Dilemma" [Bellarke] | wc: 2.3k | rated: G | tags: canonverse, season 5 au, hostage taker and his GIRLFRIEND

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? I try to! I've recently fallen a bit behind, but I'd love to wrap them up before the end of the year. It's rare enough (at least for me) to get any comments so I do try to make sure I follow up even it's just a quick thanks!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? For one of @troped-fanfic-challenge 's old Chopped Challenges, there was an angst round and I absolutely wrote the most angsty thing I've ever written.

"and the road gets tough" [Harper x Monty] | wc: 4.5k | rated: M | tags: roadtrip au, season 4!Harper, warnings for implied character death

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? A lot of my old Stranger Things fics are pretty fluffy, but I'd say that my Bellarke/Gilmore Girls AU is definitely a pretty specific happy ending. Especially in terms of how happy I am I guess with capturing the feel I wanted for it!

"dance away your fear of love" [Bellarke] | rated: T | wc: 6.1k | tags: Gilmore Girls AU, exes to friends to lovers, pining, co-parenting

8. Do you get hate on fics? I never really have, I feel thankful! I get the occasional odd comment but nothing has ever come across as actual "hate" in my opinion.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? I do! Sort of. I'm a bit of a fade to black writer on my main account. I'm someone that's very comfortable with sex being in stories, whether simply for pleasure or for plot/character devices, but I actually rarely write it myself. It doesn't always feel authentic for my own stories or necessarily for it to be explicit. Except of course for the fore-mentioned 🌶️ account, that naturally is extremely explicit lol. And for that smut, it's more the themes that I try to push than the actual smut itself.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? If I'm remembering correctly, in middle school I tried writing a Harry Potter x Young Dracula AU. But I'm not very interested in crossovers in general!

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not to my knowledge! Hopefully not!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? I haven't, or at least no one has ever reached out if they have. It's such a cool concept though! Fanfic is such a cool community overall!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? So approximately 15+ years ago, an old friend and I co-wrote a "book" together (it was absolutely just OC-based fanfic for Peter and the Starcatchers and definitely not actually as original as we thought). And I'd get feedback from my friends for our old OC-insert Harry Potter stories, but I did write those on my own. But all of that was in middle school so it's been a long time!

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship? I'm pretty equally feral for Bellarke (The 100) and Scully/Mulder (The X-Files), even though I don't write anything for the latter!

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Let's pretend in good faith I'll finish all of the ones I've started. Though this might be awarded to my Bellarke, dark magic fantasy AU one. I have a lot of cool ideas for it but I have a hunch it'll be one that's always out of reach of being completed. Also seemingly no one checked it out compared to my usual fics so I don't think anyone is curious, which shouldn't ever really be a deciding factor but never helps!

16. What are your writing strengths? I'd definitely say world building! I'm a designer/artist/occasional photographer outside of ~fandom~ so I'm actually much more of a visual person than I am anything else. And writing gives me a chance to create the visions I have in my head! World building and atmosphere is my favorite part and I like to think it's my biggest strength! Also I like to make things feel canon, which I think I'm pretty good at.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? I routinely say dialogue, though I think scalable levels of plot that feel both interesting but still fun. I'm much better at themes and main concepts than I am at smaller plot points to get there.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? Probably a great idea! I've just never really had a need to, but I think if it fits then it's a fun detail to add. I'd just try to really make sure I did it correctly (or as close as possible).

19. First fandom you wrote for? I'm about 98% sure it was Harry Potter. Peter Pan holds a potential close second option.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written? This is a tricky one, probably comes down to two for different reasons. One because it was incredibly self-indulgent and an AU of one of my favorite movies. The other because it was my longest fic and I actually think I maintained the quality the whole way through, while also finishing it at a normal pace!

"Most Sacred" [Bellarke] | wc: 48.8k | rated: E | tags: Midsommar AU, character death, slow burn, season 7 inspired "Somewhere in These Eyes (I'm on Your Side)" [Eddie x Chrissy] | wc: 78.9k | rated: M | tags: falling in love, no upside down, strangers to lovers

Tagging: @kinetic-elaboration, @carrieeve, @thelittlefanpire, @lucascsinclairs, and uhhh anyone else who wants to do this and tag me!

[visitbespin]

20 Questions for Writers

tagged by the wonderful @autumnwoodsdreamer, thank you!! ✨

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

19 works

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

139,379 words

3. What fandoms do you write for?

star wars, star trek, and...others (that i either won't mention + there's 2 more fandoms i have unpublished wip's for... one day they will see the light of day) (and i used to write for dghda!)

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

you could always see me

time to come home

we're a slow burning tune

no different

5. Do you respond to comments?

yes!! and i love to do so!!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

i don't really write angsty endings? so i'll pick home is far away - the first fic in the series of the same title! it has a hopeful ending but it leaves the characters in an 'angsty' place emotionally, essentially because it's part 1 of 3.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

home, in every language - part 3 of the home is far away series. ♡ though i am also very fond of the ending of when to hold on and when to let go.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

never, thankfully!

9. Do you write smut?

i have not

10. Do you write crossovers?

no, unless we count mixing characters from various star wars properties; i love mixing rebels characters with the OT, mando, and thrawn books characters, it brings me a lot of joy.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not that i know of

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

nope

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

nope

14. What’s your all-time favourite ship?

wow that is quite a question... within star wars i'd pick dinluke or thranto lol. truthfully i think my answer to this question changes every year lol, my ao3 bookmarks show this pretty clearly

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

oh hell... it's a star wars au of another fandom that i started writing in fall 2022. please let me finish this someday, i'm on chapter 4 of 4, and the whole thing is only 10k words rn 😭

also, more relevantly, there is a fic about ezra & luke on lothal that i started in ... early 2023. it's 6k words rn and i'm probably 40% through the story... [sighs deeply] please let me finish this one too, please.

16. What are your writing strengths?

constructing a narrative? i don't know, i'm fond of these stories i've woven. i find it hard to write a fic that's ~just vibes~, although i do love to read those; my writing is always spurred by the need to write these characters undergoing something meaningful, with a meaningful conclusion.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

...i have previously read back some of my work and found some very clunky sentences/paragraphs that really make it clear i'm only a writer by hobby, and that my profession is...more technical lol. i also don't like some of the romance i've written in the past, but i don't regret writing any of it.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

hell yeah i've done it multiple times! my bobannec fic is kind of very about that, and i've used other languages in non-sw fics. i like reading it in fics as well.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

dirk gently's holistic detective agency! in 2017-2018. to this day i think it was/is the most welcoming fandom to write fic for.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

home is far away, all 3 parts. ❤️ and since i have a place to say it, that fic means so much to me because it let me express so many of the feelings i was experiencing in 2022. the same goes for when to hold on and when to let go. i really love and cherish both of those stories.

no pressure at all, tagging @theydjarin @gizkalord @gil-estel and anyone else who sees this and feels like answering questions! 💌

[norwegianpornfaerie]

Yuletide letter 2024

Dear Yuletide Writer!

Thanks so much for checking my letter! Most of what's here is also in my sign-up, but I've added some extra bits, including my preferences for stories in general. Have a very happy Yuletide - it's my favorite time of year!

First things first: With absolute honesty, I would much rather you write something you are comfortable with and that interests and inspires you, rather than struggle to make your fic conform to prompts and suggestions you’re not feeling. I’m assuming you signed up to write my fandoms and characters because you have a genuine love for and interest in them, and that’s what makes for good stories. So let the optional details be optional, and take the below as a guideline for those who prefer it.

I would be delighted if you would consider the below:

Things I really enjoy:

Humor! The perfect story, to me, has a curated balance of comedy and drama. I am not, of course, suggesting that everything should be comedic, but I do feel that humor complements tragedy and vice versa. Make me laugh at some point in your story, and I will be very happy indeed.

First time stories! I absolutely prefer this to anything else, in relationship-focused stories. (I’m secretly an 19th century romantic poet.) Slow burn, UST, all that good stuff. I am not suggesting you have to write a longer story; this is more about vibes.

Casefic! I love detective stories, especially the classics, so anything in that vein will make me very happy indeed.

Plot is delicious. I don’t mind character studies, but a good plot will make me happier than anything.

Explicit sex. If you enjoy writing that sort of thing, I am a sucker for a well-written explicit sex scene. I'm pretty vanilla, but I don't mind reading kink. (See Do Not Wants for exceptions.)

World-building. In science fiction or fantasy canons in particular, I can never get enough of this. Let me know what people have for breakfast, how their clothes are made, where they shop, where they go on vacation. In short, tell me about the three seashells! (#ObscureDemolitionManReference) In short: Details! 

A note on shipping/ship focused stories: If I’ve specified a ship and you don’t like it, please don’t feel obligated to write it. However, I would really rather you did not write those characters into other ships in the story (unless it’s canonical, or mentions of past relationships). Likewise, please don’t erase canonical love interests. AUs are OK, but I would really rather read about the canon universe.

Now, author, if you’ve read the above and think “but I only write gen” or “but I hate plotty stories” or “I couldn’t write casefic to save my life” - don’t worry. You matched with me because you like one or more of the same fandoms and characters as me, and that’s more than enough. I trust you to write the best story you can, and that means writing it the way YOU want to. I’m obviously very happy if you chose to include some of my likes, but don’t feel forced to do so.

If you’ve read all the above, and you’re still not sure about something, maybe my fics on AO3 might be helpful? I generally like to read the same type of stuff I write.

Lucky Starr - Isaac Asimov    

David (Lucky) Starr

John "Bigman" Jones.

I'm not quite sure what it is about this series that appeals to me so much; on the surface, they are simplistic adventure stories, albeit competently written, set in a universe of naive scientific optimism and (heavily) implied misogyny. But my goodness, how much heart and charm they have! I adore both Lucky and Bigman, their relationship, and the fascinating world in which they live. There is, perhaps, something soothing and satisfying in imagining a word in which science and rationality triumphs, and our lives are made better by technology, never worse.

Wants: As with Daneel and Elijah, above, casefic with angsty romance, please! For this fandom, I would very much appreciate some worldbuilding and expansion on the ideas presented in the novels - why are there so few women? How does society work? All that jazz. And again, if you're not comfortable writing slash, I would love an exploration of Lucky and Bigman's relationship, no matter what you consider the nature of that relationship to be. My dream response to this request would be something in the style of Asimov, but updated with modern sensibilities.

Do Not Wants: I'd prefer that you don't pair either of them with other people, though past relationships are okay to mention. Lucky or Bigman explicitly written to be straight. No PWP, please, I prefer my porn with added plot. No hurt without comfort. No mention of bodily fluids other than blood, semen or saliva in a sexual context. No body horror/permanent disfigurment.

Oxventure: Blades in the Dark  

Barnaby Fortescue III

Edvard Lumière

While I love the ending, I am dying to know what happens next! I adore both the setting and the characters, and particularly how the tone walks such a perfect line between horror, humor and realism. Can there be three sides to a line? There can now; Edvard will make it work, somehow. I've picked my two favorite characters - I enjoy Edvard for his delightful and wild innoventions, and his eclectic personality. He's an interesting mix of cynical and blindly optimistic, with just a hint of madness. That being said, Barnaby is my absolute favorite. The idea of a man who takes to a life of crime because he thinks it might be "a bit of fun", and then ends up being accidentally really good at it is absolutely brilliant. He also seems to have some unexpected character growth, particularly toward the end. Last year I said that I do not ship these two, but the idea has since grown on me. So feel free to write gen or slash, as you prefer! It is also more than fine to pair either or both of them with other characters.

Exception to both characters being featured: As I mentioned, Barnaby is my absolute favorite. So long as he is featured, it's okay to not feature Edvard. That doesn't mean I don't want to see Edvard, just that it's okay if you'd prefer not to write about him.

Wants:  I really just want to see what happens next. That said, if you haven't finished the series yet - don't worry! I'm more than happy to read a story from earlier in the series. I'm a sucker for casefic, particularly detective fiction, so if you'd like to try your hand at that, I'd be a very happy recipient! I'd also love to read more about Barnaby in general, and perhaps something more about Edvard's past? And of course, there's worldbuilding - what is the world like, now? (Or what was it like, if you're writing from before the ending.) Oh, and references to other Oxventure stuff would be wonderful; I would love to see more than the few glimpses we got in canon.

Do Not Wants: Alternate Universes. So much of what I enjoy about this series is the setting. Explicit sex is fine, but no PWP, please, I prefer my porn with added plot. No mention of bodily fluids other than blood, semen or saliva in a sexual context. No body horror/permanent disfigurment. No permanent character deaths.

Robot Series - Isaac Asimov

R. Daneel Olivaw

Elijah Baley

Caves of Steel is probably my favorite novel of all time, but I adore all of these books. I am very fond of Daneel and Elijah. I find the world they inhabit fascinating, both the future society of Earth, and that of the Outer Worlds. As I love detective fiction, science fiction and especially robots, these stories may as well have been written specifically for me. Part of the appeal, for me, is how they manage to deliver both an entertaining mystery and heart-felt interpersonal drama in a world that feels real. Daneel is one of my favorite fictional characters; the way his empathy and personality shines through his programming and limitations. And Lije is the ultimate cynical, world-weary everyman - together, they are a pair of detectives that deserve to be up there with Holmes and Poirot.

Wants:  Casefic. Seriously, if you can write me casefic for this fandom, I will be delighted. A murder mystery would be fantastic. I do ship Daneel and Elijah, and I would love to read about the unresolved tension between them. Explicit sex would be great! World-building and exploring whichever location they are at, be itsomewhere on Earth or one of the Outer Worlds, or on a space ship or station, etc. Exploration of Daneel's character; Lije stuggling to come to terms with his feelings for him - preferably romantic feelings, but if you don't want to write that, feelings of deep friendship. Bickering and banter and held-back affection!

Do Not Wants: Daneel or Elijah paired with other characters. Canonical relationships are okay to mention or feature, so long as they are not the main focus of the story. Daneel or Elijah explicitly written to be straight. No mention of Elijah's death, please, and no mention of Daneel's ultimate fate - though a story reuniting them after Elijah's death would be more than welcome. No PWP, please, I prefer my porn with added plot. No hurt without comfort. No mention of bodily fluids other than blood, semen or saliva in a sexual context. No body horror/permanent disfigurment.

The Twilight Zone 

Worldbuilding

My favorite kind of story is one with an unexpected and clever twist, so it's no wonder that I adore The Twilight Zone. It's not just the twists, of course. I love well-written mysteries and "what-if" stories; science fiction and horror (and to a lesser extent fantasy) which is speculative in the utmost sense of the word. Stories that explore the unusual, the unknown, the delightfully unfamiliar. So essentially: More, plz!

Wants: Above all I would love an original story in the Twilight Zone mold, though I understand that not everyone will have signed up with that in mind. If you have offered this fandom with a specific episode or character in mind, I am fully okay with a story featuring worldbuilding around that. Though an episode-like story would be my preference, I am genuinely easy when it comes to this request. If you are looking for inspiration, here is a list of (some of) my favorite TZ episodes:

Mirror Image (my absolute favorite)

Number 12 Looks Just Like You (probably my second favorite)

Nick of Time

It's a Good Life

The Lonely

The Monsters Are Due on Maple Street

The Lateness of the Hour

I Sing the Body Electric

Do Not Wants: No PWP, please, I prefer my porn with added plot. No mention of bodily fluids other than blood, semen or saliva in a sexual context. No body horror/permanent disfigurement.

[katytheinspiredjjkblog]

Stuff About Me

This fandom has got me in a chokehold, I literally can't think of anything else right now - so this is my 100% Jujutsu Kaisen themed side-blog. If you found me because I've liked about 20 of your posts, first of all thank you for your service, and second of all I do reblog as well I just queue everything so those will appear later. I am dying to get to know people who are in this brainrot with me, my asks are open 💕

Main Blog: @katytheinspiredworkaholic

Info: I am 34 years old, a multi-fandom fanfiction writer and fanartist. I am just starting to doodle and write stories for JJK so those will be added to this blog (and not my main or my art blog) when they actually come to fruition. I do have some NSFW content on my blog, but I will tag it #NSFW so blacklist the tag if need be.

Projects: Nothing is posted yet. I am currently working on three longer fics and I'm considering doing a series of one-shots (originally for Whumptober but I missed that boat lol) just so I can play with the characters a bit. Character study is my jam, you will soon find out.

Again, But Make It Slow Burn: Itafushi Angsty Rewrite/Fix-it Fine Dining AU: (Idk where this came from but I'm blaming Top Chef and Sukuna's tattoos) Alternate Endings: A trio of worlds colliding when each of the first years end up in an alternate timeline where events happened just a little bit differently and big impacts were made. Miscellaneous: one-shots from various POVs, ships, and plot points in canon. Probably a lot of Gojo-centric.

My main ships are Itafushi, SatoSugu, and Ottoge/InuOkko but I am into/read various others as well. There will be no specific character or ship hate here on this blog.

Also I'm not caught up on the manga but I'm not afraid of spoilers, helps me stay sane/brace for impact, and I trust y'all's analysis more than anywhere else.

[d33pwithinmys0ul]

Fanfic writer interview

Was tagged by @brave-and-gentle!

How many works do you have on AO3?

9

What's your total AO3 word count?

135,195! Around half of that is just one story, lol

What are your top 5 stories by kudos/likes?

I forget I'm so new to the AOT fandom, none of those fics are in the top five since I've had R&M stuff out for a few years now.

I Only Have Eyes for U137- Rick Sanchez x reader, part 1 of the U137 series, at 605 kudos, it was my first ever published fic on ao3, aaaa

Rickplicity-Multidimensional Rick Sanchezes x reader smut (wink wonk) at 385 kudos

Bunker Fuck-Seal Team Ricks x reader smut at 119

Lovegod - Rick Sanchez x reader, one of the sequels to the U137 series, 73 kudos

Welcome to Feeling-Rick Sanchez x reader, the other sequel to U137, at 52 kudos

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I always try my best to, yeah! I love reading comments and have gotten a lot of really touching ones on some of my more introspective fics. I love making friends and interacting with other users.

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

All of Lovegod is the angsty ending, honestly.

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

James Joint, it's a Nana Komatsu x Nana Oosaki smut that's kinda cheesy & fluffy because those two deserve it dammit.

Do you write crossovers?

I guess it depends on your definition of crossover. Right now my main wip is 2 Shingeki 2 Kyojin, my AOT x Fast and Furious inspired AU. I also have a secret special AU fic I'm posting for a writing event in January, that is AOT set in another fandom's setting as well. As for actual characters in fandom interacting with each other, no.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Kind of

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes. Typically male character x self insert female reader, some m/f/m, some multi male character x female character stuff i’ve done has gotten semi popular, though I've recently tried writing yuri smut. I also want to try writing m/f/f reader and am planning f/f/f reader and other lesbian multi pairings.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

No, I don't think so. I hope not!

Have you ever had a fic translated?

I don't think so

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Kind of! It's taken down for now, but me and my best friend were working for years on a Backstreet Boys self insert AU with some fantasy and science elements that we had started in middle school. We took it down because we're gonna rewrite and republish it (since we just added onto it since middle school, like a demented layered dip of immature vocabulary) but with our original storyboard. He doesn't have a Tumblr but ily bestie

What's your all-time favorite ship?

Toughh call. I adore Eremika, Nanahachi is always amazing fave, but I think some that have stuck with me through the years are probably Elizabeth Bennet x Mr Darcy, and Bella Swan x Edward Cullen--very classic

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

OH God, hopefully none but there's a Jean Kirschtein x civilian female reader I started forever ever ago that I don't think I can finish. Maybe that'll change, but it doesn't seem to have any potential the way it is right now.

What are your writing strengths?

I honestly don’t know. i know what i like to write, and what i can go on and on about, but idk what’s good these days

What are your writing weaknesses?

I'm doing a Bertholdt Hoover x NB reader for a friend, and adjusting to the pacing of a slow burn was a challenge at first, as someone who irl and in fiction will jump to sex and drama, but I think I've got a hang of it now! Fight scenes will always be the death of me as well

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I think it can be tricky, since plot relevance is obviously important, but flow and realism can make or break it too. I kind of wish I could implement it in the right way, since I have a hc idea that would involve it, but it's just hard to do right and idk if I can tackle that at the moment.

What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to?

It could be fun to write some Twilight, since that was my first ever fandom, but idk what I'd write these days that I didn't already exhaust in my daydreams when I was 12— I could just be super indulgent and do it anyway. Also, Gregory House x reader... I need to ride that old man.

What's your favorite fic you've written?

2 Shingeki 2 Kyojin is my fucking baby. I adore it, I've never made a real AU like this before (at my grown age of 21, lmao) and I'm hyperfixating like crazy. If you like love triangles, street racing, partying, smut, Eren Yeager and Jean Kirstein, and more obscure AOT characters getting some screen time, check it out :)

I don’t think I have many writer mutuals (pls show urselves!) so if ur reading this tag ur it 🫵🫵🫵

Fanfic writer interview

Thank you @thelettersfromnoone for the tag!! 💖

How many work do u have on AO3?

3, not your local AO3 girlie lmao

What's your total AO3 word count?

8 534

Your top 5 stories by kudos/likes

I'll go with Tumblr ones, cause from my 3 AO3 works the biggest number I got is 31 lmao

Anyone but you (Legolas x f!reader)

Night watch (Legolas x Reader)

Well-deserved rest (Haldir x f!Reader)

One messy night (Boromir x f!Reader)

Transition (Haldir x f!Reader)

Honorable mention (since it's not fics but headcanons)

Green Council receiving a hot pic from you (HotD)

TLK men's reaction on being pet named

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I always try to respond to comments! These little things are brightening up my day, so I wanna let the people know that they are my heroes hahaha

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

I really think it's Transition. All in all it's a pretty dark story, a bit depressing I think (I had these intentions while writing at least).

Otherwise, I don't think I have angsty endings fics?

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

New family members for sure!! Was thinking hard what to choose, cause I think all of my happy ending fics are on the pretty same level on a happy scale, but I remember that I have this gen, non romantic baby and I love it so much ❤️‍🩹 There's a little TLK OMC for y'all

Do you write crossovers?

I wanted to say I've never done this BUT THEN!!! My Assassin's Creed (Ezio) x LOTR little headcanon!!! My beloved child!!

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

No, not that I remember getting any hate on my fics

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I do, tho not much and on rare occasions. I used to write a lot of smut when I was younger (a teen), then I stopped being comfortable with it for a wild few years (tho reading never made me uncomfortable lmao).

Now I started writing smut again, idk what kind? Don't really understand what does that mean lol F x M traditional sex? Pretty detailed? If so, then yes lmao

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don't know 😂 Maybe, maybe not. I think rather not.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not to my knowledge, I don't think so.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

We tried with my friend a long long time ago. Didn't go well lmao It's hard and kinda stressing, cause you never know what the other person is gonna write (at least we had this SURPRISE system), so... You kinda have zero plot cause everything you want to write plot-wise can be ruined by the second person's plot lmao

What's your all-time favorite ship?

Athelnar?? Athelstan and Ragnar were my first ever OTP (quickly followed by Alfred and Uhtred). You could never beat that Athelnar shit out of my body lmao I've never written for them, but oh I do love them boys!

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

Now, that's the HARSH one lmao

I think I have at least 3 OC stories that I really wanna write (2 for TLK and one for LOTR), but I'm scared that I will never actually do it. I never was good with multi chaptered stories, and these are indeed not a one shots 🥲

What are your writing strengths?

Ugh... I don't know? I think I was pretty good with dialogues and descriptions of the surroundings to build the atmosphere. But... I guess it's not for me to decide but for the readers?

What are your writing weaknesses?

I rarely finish what I've started lmao I should write everything in one go or else I'll never finish it... Or will finish it in two months even if it's a 2k words one shot

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I love them! I've only done it with my LOTR fics (with Sindarin) but I really love it. But I really love it when the language is different from the language of the settings? Like, if the story is happening in England and everyone is English, but you have two characters who can speak idk Dutch, let them have a Dutch language in their dialogue. I had a rant post about it not that long ago actually lmao You have to think about your in-universe language

What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to?

Ahhh Bungou Stray Dogs! I love them, and I'd gladly try to write something for them. Not a character/character but reader my beloved.

And maybe Stephane Narcisse (reign) my beloved and a reader

What's your favorite fic you've written?

The blood on my hands (Eomer) and Peace (Finan) are definitely my fave ones I think. They are dark and both explore some trauma

No pressure tags: @whitedarkmoonflower @lord-aldhelm @holy3cake @gemini-mama @emilyhufflepufftlk @persephones-journey @solinarimoon @mrsalwayswrite @emmanuellececchi @bilbotargaryen @levithestripper @mrsarnasdelicious @paula-in-dreamland

[weshallc]

This is so exciting, can’t wait to see what happens next! (No, I honestly do forget)

Berns Night (Revisited) 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿

Call the Midwife AU (Crown Jewels, everyone but Paddy and Bernie at Mount Busby)

Chapter Three: OF MICE AND MEN

“The best laid schemes o’ Mice an’ Men. Gang aft agley. An’ lea’e us nought but grief an’ pain. For promis’d joy!”  To A Mouse by Robert Burns 1785.

“Liars and Lovers Combine Tonight, We’re Gonna Make A Scene.” The Captain by Biffy Clyro 2009.

The largest reception room at Mount Busby Farm would have once been very grand, with Queen Anne furniture and Regency coffee tables. The only thing that remained unchanged was that the original fireplace still gave up warmth and light provided by nature, and the windows let in the light from the same star constellations and the same moon.

The Two Loves preferred antique furniture of a later period and in their 80s comfort was paramount. The room was stocked with love seats, chesterfields, recliners. bean bags, generous cushions, and a rather charming gold settee that suspiciously looked pre-war. Just no one was sure which war. Everyone mocked it, but everyone fought to sit on it as it was very comfy. Patsy often talked about replacing it, but Delia wouldn’t hear of it. “You don’t throw your memories out with the rubbish and there are more memories than just ours hidden within these cushions, Cariad.” That was always the end of it.

The most current occupants of that particular settee to be making memories were Tim Turner and Lucille Anderson. Phyllis looked over at the awkward teen, who was no longer as awkward as he had once been. He sat comfortably chatting to his companion, both of them laughing at intervals. Lucille often finishing Tim’s sentences or him proclaiming, yep that’s it or knew you’d get it when they appeared to reach a level of understanding.  Of course, when she asked the student nurse about her new friendship, she would just reply, brushing the older nurse off. “Oh, he is a dear boy; He makes me laugh.”

He was certainly doing that from where Matron Crane was sitting on a leather tan Whitworth dining chair, probably by Frank Hudson.  Years of heavy lifting before the introduction of patient hoists and transfer boards had taken their toll on the matron’s back. It was why she had found herself in a more managerial role much earlier than she would have planned. She looked at Student Nurse Anderson and thought maybe the NHS was in more tender capable hands than the shitstirrers would have them believe.

“I am wondering if we should start,” youth minister Tom Hereward was on his feet. “I am not sure how long baby will sleep in a strange house.”

“I have been called many things in my time, but not sure strange is one of them,” laughed Delia.

“Oh, I have Deals, it’s fine,” reassured Patsy.

Tom turned pink. Trixie leaned over to him, “They are joking,” and sat back onto the giant purple pouffe she was sharing with Valerie. “I know, I live here. I have to put up with it all the time.”

“So. Erm who is in charge, who has the most authority here.” Tom was still trying to create some sense of order.

“Well, Julia is the vicar,” chirped in Bobby, trying to offer her husband some support.

“But this is not the church,” Rev Julia responded with a warm smile.

“Another shock there then, it’s all coming out tonight, Patsy.” Delia couldn’t help herself when she had an audience and a bottle of Prosecco was being passed round.

“Matron Crane is on the council,” Lucille reminded everyone.

“No, I don’t think that matters lass, it’s not a council matter.” Phyllis shook her head.

“Well, someone needs to take the lead,” Tom said with a hint of irritation.

“I will!  On the authority that I am a young woman on her only night off of the week,” struck up Val, “but I have agreed to come here and discuss plans for Bernie’s birthday instead of having two for one sex on the beach.”

“It’s a cocktail, and its happy hour in the Fourteen Teacups on a Tuesday,” Trixie interpreted for everyone.

“That’s ambitious having a happy hour in the Teacups, isn’t it?”  said Fred, who had managed to wedge himself into a deep red Chesterfield.

“Yeah, apparently Ursula gives you the right change, that’s why they call it happy hour,” Tim smirked.

“As I am representing the Crown. I will continue,” said Val and she did, “we want to put on a Burns Night for Bernie’s birthday like in the old days. Now Tim has told us Paddy is half Scottish.”

“Why isn’t he here?” asked Bobby.

“Well, he said it would look suspicious if he left Bernie on her tod behind the bar on a Tuesday night,” Vi explained sitting on a scarlet love seat next to Fred.

“Yep, in case our two Tuesday night regulars rush the bar at once,” snorted Val.

“I think it’s more that it would look suspicious if he actually just left Bernie alone for five minutes,” Trixie corrected.

Lucille felt Tim squirm in the seat beside her. She knew he thought the world of Bernie, but didn’t like to hear her relationship with his father discussed in public. This was inevitable being a small village with one pub, one church and two of the village's most popular inhabitants linked to both. She tried to ease his tension.

“I think it’s lovely, just shows as my grandma used to say there may be snow on the roof, but there is still fire in the grate.”

As everyone surrendered to laughter, Matron shared a smile with the vicar, both of them confirming Lucille might be familiar with the saying, but maybe not its meaning.

Delia was the first to keep a straight face, “But they are only bairns, wait until they are mine and Pats age then the fire may need a little bit of stoking.”

“Yes, Deals, but remember we have never required the use of a poker.”

Val swiftly continued, “Paddy doesn’t wish to be involved.”

“Why?” Reggie asked, perched on his wooden stool.

Val motioned towards Tim, who was still recovering from the last topic of conversation.

“Because it would look ridiculous, his words not mine.” Tim continued, “and I quote, Wilf had the works, I would look like I was trying to pull a stunt to impress Bernie by looking like I was dressing in drag and taking the piss.”

Tim looked at his knees, and Lucille gave one a quick squeeze. She knew this wasn’t easy for him.

Everyone else also looked at their knees. The mood was solemn.

“We can all understand Paddy’s reasons.” There were a couple of nods and sighs in response. “But we aren’t putting up with any of that nonsense,” Val added with a grin.

This was met with a very large and unanimous cheer.

“Well, I’ve already looked up the Turner tartan,” Trixie handed an iPad over to Patsy via Val.

“That’s very smart,” approved the artist.

“Sorry I hate to throw a spanner in the works, but how are we going to afford all this?” butt in a pensive Vi.

“We’ve already thought of that,” grinned Delia, ”Mount Busby will cover the cost of the costume.”

“That’s very generous,” sniffed Evie, who had nearly dozed off in a leather recliner.

“Not really,” explained Patsy. “I have a friend that works for Kilts 4 U and they are very interested in looking into the possibility of making an alpaca lined sporran.”

This was news to Reggie who followed anything relating to his charges with great interest, “What’s a sporran?”

“It’s where he keeps his spare change,” Fred enlightened, or at least tried to.

“It’s the little purse that men wear at the front of the kilt, Reggie,” Violet elaborated. He seemed reassured by this.

“So anyway, in return for a few samples,” Patsy continued, “my friend will be happy to hire out the full regalia for the evening.”

“It’s not long now until Burns Night have you got some sort of prototype ready?” quizzed Evie.

“Lady K is working on them as we speak. She loves nothing better than fiddling with a bit of alpaca wool,” Delia replied gleefully.

“Lady K?” Phyllis queried.

“Yes, she is very creative,” reassured Trixie.

“I don’t doubt it, Trixie, but she is one of Bernie’s clients. What if the lass sees what she is up too”

“Don’t fret Phyllis,” Patsy interjected, “I find that Antonia is much less forgetful when she has an occupation to challenge her and I am certain she won’t let the cat out of its proverbial bag.”

Jack sat on the floor accidently banged his head against the fire surround he was leaning against, “Can’t imagine Berns thinking; oh look Lady K is sticking bits of alpaca wool to a man’s bag he hangs in front of his todger. That must be something to do with Paddy and my birthday”

Vi was quick to admonish Jack, but when even Tom started to laugh, she decided to let it go.

“What about the little knifey thing they keep in their sock that he stabs the Haggis with?” Fred was beginning to get excited.

“Sgian dubh,” corrected Vi.

“All part of the traditional dress,” Patsy added a tone to her voice to reassure everyone that she had thought of everything.

“So that’s the gear sorted. Me and Reggie are in charge of the beer. What else?” Fred’s eyes were wide, thinking they actually might be able to pull this off.

“Well, myself and Evie have created a menu, pretty much on the lines of what we used to do in Wilf’s day.” Violet opened a small notebook and put on her reading glasses.

Clearing her throat she read, “Cock-a-leekie soup, Scottish salmon and tattie scones or scotch egg for starters.”

“Cock a what?” shouted up Jack.

“Chicken and vegetable soup to you, young man. There will be a just vegetable option too.” Violet’s voice began to take on the air it adopted when addressing an audience. “Then we have the Haggis or vegan Haggis, neeps and tatties and a whisky sauce.”

“What about those that might not wish to partake in the Haggis?” Tom asked nervously, as he might.

Evie spoke up before Vi could respond. “There is always the Fourteen Teacups for the likes of those that don’t wish to have Haggis. It’s a Burns Night. If you don’t want Haggis, then stay at home and order in a pizza.”

“What’s for pudding?” Bobby struck up, squeezing her husband’s hand.

“Cranachan which is raspberries, cream, oats and whisky, or Clootie pudding with whisky sauce or whisky ice cream or a Scottish cheese board with oatcakes.”

Murmurs of approval were aimed in Violet’s direction.

“That’s a lot of whisky?” Lucille remarked.

Violet agreed, “Yes, we need just a house whisky for everyone for the toasts Val, I will leave that to you, but you need to pay the piper with a good quality malt.”

Silence broke out in the previously buzzing, over occupied living room.

“Piper!” Several people groaned at once.  

Fred, who was not going to let anything get in the way of this Burn’s Night declared, “Look, we will just have to bung on a recording.” Turning to Tim and Jack, he said, “You lads look up the Red Hot Chilli Pipers on your phones.”

Tim reached for his phone, swiping the picture of Lucille and him with Alpaca Colin. But Lucille touched his hand, making him hesitate.

“I don’t think that would be very suitable, Mr Buckle going to all this trouble with such a delicious menu and Mr Turner all dressed up in the finest regalia and then having some squeaky din coming out of an iPhone.”

“Your right lass, it just won’t do,” supported Phyllis.

“Well, does anyone know a piper?” Fred replied wearily.

“Surely we can find a professional one online?” contributed Julia

“A professional piper that’s free on Burn’s Night at this late notice,” chided Phyllis.

“I know a piper.”

The voice came from the back of the room. Everyone turned to look at the slight dark-haired woman sat on a dining chair. “Well, I think we all do.”

“Do we, Jane?” Julia asked.

“Yes, the busker that stands outside the town hall in Appleby Thornton.”

Everyone started talking at once;

“I only go into town every second Tuesday to get my hair done.”

“Same here I only go through if I have a doctor’s appointment.”

“Well, it’s the cost of the parking isn’t it, it’s free at Tweaven Retail Park and more shops.”

“You can get it on t’internet delivered to your door.”

“I haven’t been since Marks and Spencers closed.”

“Debenhams is closing next week such a shame, that shops older than me, always been a department store in Appleby Thornton.”

“It was one of the first in the country to have a lift, you know.”

Jane cleared her throat. ���There are a lot of good things about Appleby Thornton that are not always obvious.”

“Here, here!” chimed in Val, “there is still a Primark.”

“Oh well, let’s be grateful for small mercies,” stung back Trixie.

Much to Delia’s disappointment, Val bit her lip. The ex-nurse and market gardener loved a full house. She cherished her quiet times with Patsy too, but she was the more sociable of the pair. The farm was large enough for Patsy to have her office and art studio and not be disturbed while Delia fussed the alpacas with Reggie. Trixie moving in had been Patsy’s scheme, but Delia was the one who had benefited most from their new project, even if she would never let their new employee know she was a project.

Delia enjoyed listening to Trixie’s anecdotes and gossip. She felt reconnected with a world that was moving so fast. The Two Loves were business women and technology hadn’t passed them by.  It was the music, the celebrities, the trashy telly that Patsy despised and Delia loved that made having Trixie and her friends around delight Delia.

Delia’s carer probably wasn’t as up-to-date with pop culture as Trixie and her friend. Val was now a frequent visitor to Mount Busby, as she and their new lodger had struck up quite a friendship. Nurse Bernie always looked a bit behind the door when the other two were in full flow about some reality TV show.

But since Trixie had moved in, Nurse made Delia’s blood pressure check the last visit on her rounds and she drank tea, sitting and chatting with Trixie. Bernie didn’t need to watch Love Island. She had her own romantic paradise in Poplar-on-Tweaven and Delia couldn’t be more happy for her.

Val had bitten her lip, her new friend was still a bit of an enigma to her. She did know Trixie might talk as if she had been born with a silver spoon in her mouth, but in the last few months she had gleaned enough to know that spoon had been tarnished sometime ago. So in spite of all her bravado, Trixie was as familiar with Poundland as she was with Prada.

It was Julia who cut through the chatter. “I believe I am familiar with the young man you are referring to. He has a small dog with him if I am right?”

“Yes, Reverend.” Jane was beginning to believe she had dreamt the piper and maybe also Appleby Thornton.

“He’s rather good, as I remember.”

Jane was beaming as she nodded.

“So problem solved,” Fred rubbed his hands together with glee, “tot of whisky, a bowl of water for the pooch, bob’s your uncle, sorted”

“No, it certainly is not.” Trixie’s tone caused everyone to alter their gaze, “this man is a professional musician surely, if he has a regular spot he has a license. I am sure Chummy is well acquainted with the gentleman and his story. We can ask her.”

Inspector Noakes had been unable to attend the meeting because of work commitments, and Peter’s Tuesday evenings were spent running a youth football team that Jack and Timothy had both enjoyed being a part of. Alas, Tim had become too rangy and prone to injury, and Jack had become too lazy and prone to chips.

Trixie continued, “He deserves an appropriate wage for his efforts.” She turned to Val. “I believe the Crown has an entertainments licence.”

Val nodded and smiled reassuringly at her friend, “Paddy does, leave it with me and I will also make sure he and the mut are fed and provided with transport both ways.”

Trixie relaxed and shared a smile with the aromatherapist sitting at the back of the room. “Do you know his name?”

“Kevin.”

Fred let out a huge sigh. “So we are all sorted then?”

“It would appear so,” replied Lucille, grimacing at Tim.

“Apart from Dad.” groaned Tim.

Followed by an echo of sighs.

“Leave your dad to me, Chick.” winked Val.

[taleasnewastime]

In the wake of your leave | Part 1

[ PART TWO TO GROWING PAINS ]

Summary: It’s been six years since you’ve been home. Six years since you’ve been in this city. Six years since you stood in this house. Six years since you saw all these people. Six years since you’ve seen Jimin. But you’re back now, your father’s funeral the reason for your return, but this time you don’t plan on leaving and this time you’re going to take what you want no matter what.

Pairing: Jimin x reader

Genre: Unrequited love; brothers’ best friend; slow burn; mafia au; angst

Word count: 16.2k

Warnings: Angsty feelings, unrequited feelings, Jimin uses the nickname Princess, swearing, mentions of death, blood, there’s a physical fight, I guess just lots of things you’d imagine from a gang/mafia fic but overall it’s also not that dark.

Authors note: Here it is!! As I’m sure you’ve seen this is part two to Growing Pains, you may be able to read this as a stand alone but there are a lot of references to part one so it might make more sense to read that first. I feel like this has a really different vibe to part one so I hope you still enjoy!!

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He’d heard you’re back. Whispers going around the house about your return. Six years you’ve been gone, far longer than your university course and rumours have been muttered the whole time. But now they’ve reached a crescendo.

The words have always been pure speculation, no one actually knowing what you’re doing, but he can hear the curiosity in everyone’s tone now you’re back. How have you changed? What will you be like? How long will you stay? Words of who you are and what you’ve become reaching Jimin’s ears no matter how quietly people say them and no matter how much he tries to avoid them.

They say you’re darker now. They say you’ve grown into a woman, the little girl long gone. They say you’ve not come back alone. They talk about what you did while you were away, that the family blood in your body must have amounted to something because studying wasn’t the only thing you’ve done, the other things a lot darker. And though not all the stories sound true, Jimin still dreads that some are. He at least knows one thing to be true, he’s not expecting the little girl he still pictures in his mind.

Your departure was far from smooth. As much as he wants to remember that happy smiling girl, whenever he pictures you all he can see are the tears streaming down your face. He can still feel you in his arms when you saw AJ dead on the floor, can still hear the words you admitted to him and then the way your face changed when he broke you.

He can remember every moment on those steps outside the house. The moment he realised that his words weren’t working, that he’d have to lie to you to get you to leave. He can remember slipping into that part of his mind he hates, that he swore he would never show you, or at least never use on you. He can remember picking the pieces of yourself you hate the most, the insecurities he could manipulate enough to make you believe he was telling the truth. He can remember the pure determination in your tone when you said you wanted to stay and can remember thinking that as much as it would hurt both you and him it was better to hurt you and get you to leave than the alternative.

Six years and yet he can still remember every detail, every tear.

If he’s honest with himself he’s dreading seeing you. He’s dreading seeing what you’ve become, he’s dreading seeing your reaction to him, he’s dreading the possibility that you may cry again. But most of all he’s dreading seeing you and realising you haven’t changed at all.

Your father’s death is hardly a happy reason for your return. It’s not like there will be some grand party thrown in celebration of your return. No, instead it will be an all-black occasion, sadness rather than happiness in the air; the reunion of a family broken by a tragedy. It’s not exactly how Jimin pictured seeing you again.

Because it may have been six years, and your last meeting may have been filled with heartbreak and tears, but Jimin has always dreamed of seeing you again. You were always a ray of sunshine in his day, the little girl who was so different from anyone else, who was innocent and harmless in comparison to every other element in his life. He knew your feelings towards him, he knew you hid them, but he knew you better than you realised. You couldn’t hide anything from him, no matter how hard you tried.

He loved you, still does, but never in the same way as you did him. You were too good for him, deserved more than he could give you and he always saw you as more of a little sister than anything else. Still, it broke his heart as much as it did yours when he did what he did.

But you needed to go. Over the years he could see you changing. He knew you wanted to be a part of the gang, knew you were too soft and innocent and young to be involved, but he could also see how you changed and became more and more corrupted by your surroundings, changed to try and fit in. He didn’t want to see you trapped like he is, because although this is his family and though he would die to protect them, that’s what he is, trapped.

He would do anything to save you. And so he did. He broke you to save you.

But now you’re back and Jimin doesn’t know what to do.

He has to control his face when he first sees you. Well, when he first realises it’s you, because when his eyes first glance at you they keep moving, only to shoot straight back.

Six years. He shouldn’t have expected you to still look like that eighteen-year-old girl, but he truly hadn’t imagined this. You are less girl and more woman now. Long gone is the heavy-handed make-up and the mass manufactured clothing. Instead, you stand in clothes that look tailored just for you, the material hugging every curve, hair styled to eradicate every whisp, make-up expertly applied to look like you’re not wearing any. You look even more beautiful than he remembers. Because you were beautiful as a girl, but now as a woman you’re something wholly else.

He’s screwed for.

His eyes linger on you for a few seconds before he’s moving on. If he pretends you’re not here then maybe it’ll become a reality. He knows that it’s a poor idea before he’s even decided that’s what he’s going to do. For one, if this is the only time he’s going to see you then he wants to see you up close, to talk to you and find out how the last six years were. He can’t go another six years without seeing you, he’s missed you.

He takes his time though, lingers around the room talking to people and accepting the drinks given to him. And though he’s trying to ignore you, his eyes can’t stop finding you. You talk to people, though you seem mainly interested in the guy you’ve brought along, someone Jimin has never seen before. You sip at drinks, but none of them look alcoholic from what he can tell. You don’t really smile, your lips turn up at the edges but you don’t beam like you used to or laugh the way he remembers.

It’s not just your looks that have changed, you’ve not shed a tear, not now and not during the long service earlier. He was worried about seeing the tears, worried the memories from all those years ago would come back to hit him, but he had nothing to worry about. While that should be something that gives Jimin peace, it only worries him. Maybe the rumours are true, maybe you have changed, you certainly look like if from here.

He takes a shot of alcohol. The alcohol doing nothing to help him, he’s abused the substance for too long for it to have much of an effect on him now. Still, the burn down his throat is enough sensation to kick him into action. Eyes set on you, he does what he does best and acts like nothing is bothering him. Jimin’s life is an act, and he’s never going to need that skill more than now.

You’ve never been more miserable. Not because you’re at your father’s funeral, but because of everyone currently staring at you, judgment and curiosity in their eyes.

Six years since you’ve been around all these people and now you’re back, you remember why it’s taken so long to return. You can still feel how unwelcome you are, how you don’t fit in, don’t belong. Even at your own father’s funeral you can sense the judgement.

“Here,” you look to the deep voice on your left, take the glass offered. “Drink this.”

You offer him a small smile, one of the only genuine smiles you’ve dealt out tonight, the only other ones also given to him.

“Do you think it’s spiked?” You say flatly but the joke still gets delivered as intended, Jungkook having to fight the corners of his lips from curling upwards.

“Probably,” he shrugs before a glint appears in his eyes. “Want me test it for you? Make sure it’s not poisoned.”

“You’d do that? For me?” You mock surprise, going along with the joke.

“You’re more important than little old me.”

“But if you die, who’ll protect me?”

He nudges your shoulder with his, a smile finally breaking through. “I know you could take out half the men in this room without even thinking.”

“Only half?”

A small laugh escapes Jungkook and the noise at last causes your lips to curve up into a smile.

You take a sip of your drink. Ice cold water. Not poisoned, not that you really thought anyone here would do that, not at your father’s funeral at least. No, it’s more a joke between you and Jungkook, something to relieve the tension that’s in every inch of your body.

You’d worried about bringing Jungkook, but now you’re here you’re so glad you didn’t stop him. He knows everything about you, everything about everyone in this room – or at least everything you know about everyone in this room – and still you’d worried. But you can’t imagine standing here alone.

“I think he might have finally gathered the courage,” Jungkook says over the lip of his cup, his eyes flicking over your shoulder.

You stiffen. There were only two men you were nervous to see today. Yoongi and Jimin. And one of them you’ve already seen, had a long conversation with. You’d spoken to Yoongi on the phone occasionally over the past six years, he was the one who had broken the news about your father’s death and while you spoke to him on the phone from time to time, you were still nervous to see him in the flesh.

But Jimin, Jimin is a completely different story. While you’ve had some contact with Yoongi over the years, you haven’t seen or spoken to Jimin since that night six years ago. By the sounds of it that is soon to change.

“The Princess has returned.”

That nickname. Even with your back to him a shudder runs through you. But you school your features just before you turn to him, put a blanket of unfeeling over your face.

You step next to Jungkook, can see the pure pleasure in his face even if he’s feigning indifference. He knows enough about you to know what this means and he’s manged to bag a front row seat. You not so delicately bang your arm into his as you twist and face Jimin, a small reminder to not enjoy this too much.

You’ve had a long time to prepare for this moment, and yet you’re still under prepared.

He’s aged. Six years hasn’t felt that long in the grand scheme of things and yet Jimin looks a lot older than you thought he would. It’s not that he has grey hair, in fact he’s dyed the naturally brunette hair a lighter shade, or that he has wrinkles, no, his skin is still annoyingly perfect. It’s more that he’s bulked out, still lean but more obviously powerful now, and his eyes hold something they never did, or maybe it’s something they’ve always held, he just never let you see, a darkness he thought you were too young for.

Surprisingly, out of everyone you’ve met today, not smiling at Jimin is the easiest. All those years of love and laughs and smiles and yet all you can see when you look at him is the way he broke your heart. He’s the reason you left and he’s the reason you almost didn’t come back.

But what hurts the most is that he’s still beautiful. You can still see the Jimin you loved. That broad smile on his face, that crooked tooth still there, those eyes still crinkling at the edges. He’s aged, but he’s still Jimin.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” it feels like a second thought, something everyone’s been telling you all day and just as strange coming from Jimin. He was your father, there is a certain sadness attached to him dying, but everyone knows your feelings towards him, how little you will morn his death.

“Thank you,” you say flatly, giving him nothing.

His eyes flick between you and Jungkook, you can tell he’s feeling awkward despite trying to hide it. It seems that not everything has changed over the years, you can still read Jimin’s tics. You can tell he’s vying for an introduction to Jungkook, but you’re not going to make this easy for him, if he wants something, he’s going to have to ask.

Jimin weighs up Jungkook, something you’re sure he’s done from a distance, but now he’s doing in front of him, an intimidation technique. Jungkook stands a few inches taller, his frame much larger, but you still feel him straighten next to you, still feel him try to extenuate his size. Jimin just stares, disinterested before flicking his eyes back to you.

“You’ve made friends.”

“Don’t sound so surprised. I can actually make friends.”

You watch him wince. Such a small movement, but you still see it, gain a small amount of satisfaction that you caused that.

“How was university?” He abandons trying to find out who Jungkook is, taking a long gulp from his already half empty drink.

“As pointless as I expected.”

“Hey, you met me, didn’t you?” Jungkook nudges your arm with his but neither you nor Jimin look at him.

“Not completely useless it seems,” you shoot Jimin a small sarcastic smile.

“And when do you return?” There’s a small pause before he clarifies. “How long are you here for?”

“Trying to get rid of me already?”

“Just wondering how long we have the pleasure of your company,” Jimin returns your earlier sarcastic smile.

“Well, I haven’t received my big welcome home party yet, so I guess I’ll have to stay at least as long as that.”

You’re being purposefully vague, kind of enjoying this new, weird, slightly grating thing you and Jimin have. You knew you’d be acting like this with him, cold and distant, but you hadn’t expected him to change around you. You thought he’d be his usual nice and kind self, thought he’d be apologetic about what happened. Six years has obviously changed a lot. That or he’s still worried you’ve harboured that crush all these years, wants to make sure every single hope is extinguished before he goes back to how he was, lest you confess your love again.

“You might be waiting a while for that,” Jimin says bluntly, again, the tone and words something he previously would never have used around you.

“Shame. Guess we’ll be here longer than we expected,” you look up at Jungkook and see the glint in his eye, he’s enjoying this as much as you. “Hope you packed enough pants.”

“Does your brother know you’re staying?”

You cut your eyes back to Jimin, your heart changing pace at the look in his eyes.

“Obviously not if he’s had the oversight of throwing me a party,” you relish the way you can see him working his jaw.

“Well perhaps you’ll be leaving after tomorrow’s meeting?”

You can’t hide your shock, only a small widening of your eyes but still something Jimin catches and now it’s his turn to look smug. He’s caught you out, finally has the upper hand.

“Perhaps,” is all you reply.

You can see Jimin wonder whether it’s worth carrying on the conversation, but he must deem it’s over before it’s barely begun as he finishes off his drink before levelling his gaze at you.

“Until tomorrow then,” his eyes flick to Jungkook and he gives the smallest of nods. “Jungkook.”

His eyes flick one last time to you as if to see the reaction there at the fact he’s known Jungkook’s name this whole time. You watch as he twists and walks away and then wonder what the fuck just happened. You hadn’t expected apologies or flowers or pretty words, but you really hadn’t expected that, hadn’t expected him to be so cold.

“Well, that went well.”

You draw your eyes away from Jimin in favour of glaring at Jungkook. There’s a wide, shit-eating grin on his face that only makes your frown deepen. You throw a middle finger up at him, the gesture only earning a chuckle.

It’s weird seeing your brother behind the desk your dad once occupied. Yoongi isn’t much smaller than your dad, and maybe it’s because you’ve grown, your perspective changing, but the table looks so much smaller than you remember, Yoongi smaller than you remember your dad always looked. It helps you fake the confidence you’re currently trying to exude.

Jungkook sits next to you, his chair so close your legs are almost touching – your chair so close, because you shuffled it as close as possible when you realised who would be sat on your other side.

Jimin didn’t even flinch when your chair scraped across the floor away from him, didn’t even turn to look at you, but Yoongi’s eyes pinched together. His eyes going from your movement to the man sat next to you, not Jimin but Jungkook. He doesn’t say anything about the man being here, but you know he disapproves. But you weren’t about to turn up alone, not when you knew Jimin was going to be here, if Yoongi hadn’t invited him then you wouldn’t have invited Jungkook, which is probably why Yoongi says nothing.

“Shall we get on with this?” You break the silence that’s gone on too long. You want this over and done with.

Yoongi drags his eyes back to you, takes his time with it, knowing the silence is killing you. It’s really disconcerting how quickly he’s fitting into his new role.

“You want in,” he says, not a question but it also doesn’t feel like a statement.

“I want in,” you parrot.

“And what’s happened over the past six years that’s going to make me change my mind?”

“I’ve grown up.”

He doesn’t speak, it’s not enough, you knew the statement wouldn’t make him open his arms to welcome you, had prepared for his questions and silences but wanted to see how much he’d prepared. It seems your brother still knows you well enough to know what you want. And it also seems that being family still isn’t enough on its own. You’ll have to prove yourself the way you’ve always had to.

“And because you’re in charge now.”

“You think I’ll want you when dad didn’t?”

The words bite. And while Yoongi doesn’t blink you can see Jimin turn to look at you at the words and Jungkook moves his leg to graze yours. You don’t react to the words though; you know that’s why he said them. You said you’ve grown up but he’s testing the theory.

“Dad didn’t see how useful I could be.”

“And how’s that Y/N?” Yoongi relaxes back into his seat, his eyes fixed on you as if preparing for a long story.

“You’ve all seen me being female as a weakness, but I think it’s a strength. You might think you need brute strength in this business, but you’ve never considered that there are other ways of doing business,” you pause, wait just long enough to know that you have his attention and the fact he doesn’t interrupt you tells you everything; he’s interested, he wants you to continue. “This gang is outdated; it’s run by a load of hot-headed men. Plus, growing up I was always taught how family comes first, how this is a family business, yet I was pushed to the side lines. Do you not think that shows weakness? Do you not think that’s maybe why dad was killed, because there’s no unity here? Because those hot-headed men saw that weakness and decided they wanted a change? He sold this gang being like a family to so many, and yet he so easily threw out one of his own, who’s to say he wouldn’t do the same to anyone else?”

Yoongi doesn’t even flinch at your accusations, just remains leaning back, his eyes heavy on you as they weigh what you’ve said.

“You think insulting me and this gang will put you in my good graces?”

“I think you’re smart enough to know I’m just telling the truth.”

The few seconds of silence now don’t weigh so heavy on you. You can tell it’s because Yoongi is weighing up his answer, he never says anything without meaning every word.

“And you think someone murdered dad?”

This time you do outwardly react, you roll your eyes as you fall back into your seat and while it’s not the most respectful gesture, you think you see the ghost of a smile on Yoongi’s lips when you look back at him.

“I take back my earlier statement of you being smart.”

“I have an offer for you,” Yoongi says, ignoring you. “Find dads killer and you’re in.”

You sit up straighter, eyes going wide. You’re not sure what you expected from this meeting, because you hadn’t really expected to be accepted into the gang, at least not without a hard fight, but you really hadn’t expected this.

“What,” the word doesn’t come out of your mouth even though it’s what you’re thinking.

Yoongi doesn’t look at Jimin and his clear annoyance at the offer. It should please you that he also didn’t know this offer was going to be given, but you’re in too much shock to feel anything about the man who’s shooting Yoongi daggers.

“You want in, you do something for me, and I’ll give you a place. You find the rat, and I’ll repay you.”

“What place? What role?” The questions tumble off your tongue without much thought and you’re so glad for Jungkook and the prep he helped you do; even if you didn’t think this meeting would amount to anything he forced you to consider all avenues. His leg is now a solid presence against yours, a steady and silent reminder that he’s there and that he at least thinks you have this.

“What do you want?” Yoongi shrugs.

“I want what you have,” again the practiced words come easily and still Yoongi hardly reacts. “I want to lead, I want power, I want respect.”

“Then earn it,” Yoongi’s tone is flat, firm, not so much a telling off but almost a challenge, a reminder that he can only do so much.

You nod your head at him, it’s only small but he returns the gesture. Deal.

You look at Jungkook, he can’t hide the smile as easily as you can. It’s something you love about him, he may be tough and may be able to beat someone up with seemingly the effort of a blink of an eye, but he wears his heart on his sleeve. When he chooses to, he gives his whole heart to everything, no halves, he’ll tell you what he thinks straight but if you’re on his side he will back you to the hill. After moving and having your whole life seemingly smashed into pieces, it was exactly what you needed.

You shoot him a small, barely visible smile before standing. You feel Jungkook follow your lead as you look back at Yoongi. He’s still watching you, still silently calculating and you don’t say anything as you twist and leave, Jungkook trailing behind you.

“What the fuck?” You didn’t even look at Jimin, but you can picture his face with the tone he’s used. You’ve not even left the room and yet he’s so openly challenging Yoongi. “Why they hell would you do that?”

You open the door, swallow the lump that’s formed in your throat, but still don’t look back. No matter how much you’ve buried Jimin in your mind, no matter how much you now hate him, the words still stab through you. You wish he didn’t affect you, wish you didn’t feel anything towards him, but you loved him for too long, too deeply for that to be the case.

You can still hear him arguing with Yoongi over the deal as you walk out the room, the door closing behind you.

The laugh dies in your throat as you walk out of your room and see Jimin leaning on the wall opposite your door. The mask of indifference you’ve been wearing around him easily takes shape. But it’s a second too late, Jimin saw the laugh and saw it so easily die at his presence and you think you see a pang of something akin to hurt cross his features before a small sly smile takes his lips.

“Morning,” he says easily as if he saw nothing, as if his face didn’t give anything away. He pushes his weight off the wall he was leaning on, standing tall to greet you.

“Morning,” Jungkook parrots and though Jimin’s eyes flick to him in surprise you know he said the word more to irk you. He couldn’t stop going on about how amusing he found it seeing you so easily annoyed by Jimin last night, something Jungkook so rarely saw. While you silently seethed about the day, Jungkook wouldn’t stop babbling on and replaying all the ‘highlights’ of the day.

You don’t say anything as you start walking to the stairs. You hear Jungkook follow close behind and a second after you pass him, hear Jimin’s steps fall in line too. You try not to grind your teeth.

“What are we up to this morning then?”

You clamp your teeth down, no longer able to stop grinding them together. You can almost feel a stress headache forming.

“Me and Jungkook are off to breakfast.”

“Aw. Where was my invite?”

“Must be lost in the post,” you say flatly, none of the light, sarcastic humour Jimin’s tone held.

“Well, it’s a good job I caught you now then.”

You reach the bottom of the steps, stop as you twist to look behind you. You catch the smile and glint in Jungkook’s eyes before he steps to stand behind you and then you’re met with Jimin. He looks exactly how you remember now, that wide smile on his face you were so used to seeing growing up, but after hearing him swearing at your brother last night you don’t buy it, at least anticipate that the smile is due to him knowing something you don’t. You don’t take the bait though, would rather be left in the dark then admit you’re at a disadvantage.

“Fuck off Jimin,” you give him a sarcastic smile despite the biting words.

Jimin raises a hand to his chest as if hit by a bullet. “I thought we were friends.”

“Yeah, so did I.”

The words are said more seriously and hit that bit harder. Jimin’s smile drops an inch as his eyes dance across your face.

“Where you going first?” All sarcasm has dropped, he’s being as serious as you now and despite the talk of breakfast previously you know he’s referring to the conversation from last night, who are you talking to first to find out who killed your dad? Still, you’re enjoying toying with him too much to let it drop that quickly.

“I told you,” you say, spinning on your heels to head to the door. “I’m off to breakfast.”

You hear two sets of footsteps follow you and even though you expected it, you roll your eyes.

“It’s only booked for 3 people and unfortunately we’ve already invited someone else,” you say over your shoulder.

“Then he won’t be able to come,” Jimin says referring to Jungkook.

“You know, Jimin,” you stop with your hand resting on the front door, turn to look at the two men staring at you. “No matter what you thought, you never have been able to control what I do.”

A wide smile spreads across his face, the look more unnerving than anything else he’s done. You can almost picture what’s currently going through his head, wonder if he’s thinking of the same memories you are. Him telling you to go to school, him asking for cake but having to force you to give it to him instead, him telling you not to do business with AJ – all the things you ignored.

“I know,” the wicked smile remains and you brace for whatever he’s about to unleash. “But just like then, I don’t need to control you to get what I want. Because just like then, my opinions are shared by those who do control you.”

He starts to walk towards you and you only have a second to jump out the way before he’s pushing through the front door you were blocking.

“Your brother requested I accompany you on any business,” Jimin explains over his shoulder as he goes down the steps to the car. “I’ll wait for you in the car.”

You glare at his back, continue to glare through the blacked-out windows as you try to calculate a way out of this. You could walk away, could get in a different car, could do a hundred other things, but you know this is your only opportunity to prove yourself, if you throw this away, if you defy the orders of your brother, you may as well not bother.

You turn to look at Jungkook who has a raised eyebrow. He already knows what you’re going to do, but he at least will wait to hear you say it.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you glare at him.

“Just curious what you’ll want me to do while I stay here all alone,” he replies.

“Continue to look into my fathers last movements,” you wave a hand at him.

“Enjoy your breakfast,” he quips, smile starting to appear on his face.

“And don’t let my brother know anything,” you add, Jungkook nodding at your words. “I mean it Jeon. Not a fucking word.”

“Yes boss,” he does a mock salute as you finally turn and follow where Jimin left.

You have to remind yourself that this is worth it, that this is what you want, that you just need to get through this, and you’ll have everything you ever wanted. You catch Jimin moving in the back of the car and take a breath. It’s going to be fucking hard though.

You’re tapping on your phone, replying to emails that really don’t need to be responded to, but in this too stuffy car you’ll do anything to distract yourself from the man sat a seat away from you. So far he’s ignored you, his gaze out the window as he watches the world pass by. But as time ticks by you can feel his need to talk increase, you could have predicted the moment he would break before he even talks and you hate that you still know him well enough to know that.

“Who we meeting?”

You don’t look at him, continue typing on your phone, head angled away from him. You can see him out of the corner of your eye turning his attention towards you though, angling his body towards you and not to the window. Once you would have relished in the attention, now you want anything but it.

“Conan,” you give a straight answer.

“You think Conan killed your dad?”

“I never said that.”

“But you’re still meeting him?” There’s a pause and when it becomes obvious you’re not going to answer him, he carries on. “You do remember what your brother said right? And I know he didn’t give you a deadline but if you take too long it’s only going to point at –”

“Do you ever get bored of hearing yourself speak?” You cut him off, still looking down at your phone.

“Not particularly,” Jimin tries to say it in the same carefree tone you used but you can hear the bite of annoyance.

You hum. “Well, it’s getting awfully boring to me.”

“Listen, all I’m trying to say is –”

“I know what you were doing,” you cut him off again.

“I’m just trying to help.”

You hum again, it might be sadistic, but you gain way too much pleasure in how much the noise seems to irk Jimin.

You feel the car slowing and when you look up you can see the restaurant you gave the driver the address to earlier. You glance down at your phone, finish tapping out the last sentence before locking the phone and slipping it into your purse. You finally glance at Jimin as the car stops and the driver gets out to open your door.

“Maybe try and keep the talking to a minimum,” you say. “Wouldn’t want you embarrassing yourself.”

He opens his mouth to reply but your door opens and you slip out before he can say anything. You allow yourself a small smile before you hear a car door slam closed behind you and heavy-footed steps speeding to catch you. You manage to wipe the smile before a strong hand grabs your wrist and forces you to face an angry Jimin. He’s close, his eyes near black and if he wasn’t so close you wouldn’t be surprised if you could see steam leaving his ears.

“Careful Princess,” you flinch. That fucking nickname, the one he used when you were growing up, the one that once made you feel special and now only makes you feel sick. His grip tightens slightly as he looks down at you, you know he didn’t miss your reaction however small and you’re not looking forward to how he’s going to use that information against you. “I still hold more power than you, you’re still not in this gang, you can’t go ordering me around yet.”

“My brother may have sent you to baby sit me, but this is still my business. Sit in there and do whatever it is Yoongi is sending you to do, but otherwise don’t get involved.”

His eyes flick around your face as if trying to read something there, a frown forming between his eyes as if he can’t quite work something out. You start to heat under his gaze and at the proximity and his hand still around your wrist. It’s all a lot. You blame it on your change in feelings, that you now hate him, rather than because of your old feelings towards him.

Still, you snatch your hand out of his grasp and take a step back as if the distance will help make your heart stop beating so erratically.

“I just don’t want to see you hurt,” Jimin admits, voice softer.

“And that’s the problem,” you reply. “You always assume I’m going to get hurt.”

You stare at him a second, don’t hide the years of hurt from shining through. You used to think Jimin was different, used to think he was a good guy, that he wasn’t like your brother or dad. But he proved you wrong. And you’ll never be able to forget that.

Your heart still pounding, you turn and head into the restaurant. There’s no point dwelling on the past, no point in feeling sad about what Jimin did or didn’t do. You need to focus on why you’re here.

Conan is exactly where you expected, where he always sits in this place.

He’s already drinking, a Bloody Mary in his hand, alcohol disguised at this early hour. He’s as large as you remember him, his frame taking up most of one side of the booth. He still slightly terrifies you, the man closest to your dad, he reminds you so much of him even though he hardly looks like him.

You walk towards him, keep your head held high as you feel Jimin trailing behind you. You weren’t lying when you said you didn’t think Conan killed your dad, but it also wasn’t the whole truth. He may not have made a move to gain more power but that didn’t mean he didn’t have a lot to gain from your fathers death. If anything you can relate to him, someone always in the shadows, you wouldn’t be surprised if he wanted more. Still, it doesn’t make killing someone right. If he killed your dad. Information is the main thing you want from this, if you get anything else, any inkling to more, then great.

“Y/N,” your name booms around the room when Conan spots you. He staggers to his feet, holds his arms opened wide as if waiting to be embraced. He’s acting like your friends, like he’s happy to see you, when you know for a fact he would have been the first to throw the party when you left.

“Conan,” you say in a far quieter yet still firm tone and hold your hand out for him to shake.

“So sorry about your father,” Conan carries on, taking your hand in both of his, his head shaking lightly as if truly distraught by the fact. Well, you guess he was as close to your dad as anyone could be, if anyone has a right be sad about your dads death, it’s him. “But I guess if we can see any bright side, it’s that you’ve finally come home.”

You don’t miss the lie in his words, but don’t say anything to call it out. This is all an act and luckily that is your strength.

“It’s appreciated. And I never got to say thanks for your lovely speech at the funeral. It was beautiful.”

It wasn’t, but the line works given the way Conan’s lips slightly curl upwards. Outwardly he only gives a dismissive “no problem” before letting go of your hand. You take his lead, let him take his seat before moving into your own, Jimin falling shortly behind so he’s sat next to you. Conan gives him a quick glance before his eyes fall back onto you. You hadn’t told him Jimin would be coming, but he doesn’t seem at all threatened by it.

“What do I owe the pleasure?”

“I believe my father was murdered.”

Jimin stiffens next to you, clearly caught off guard by your bluntness, but your focus is wholly on Conan who gives nothing away. He doesn’t look surprised by your statement, doesn’t look shocked you’ve put it do plainly, doesn’t seem surprised you’re here raising it with him. You make a note of everything.

Conan tilts his head, the gesture saying everything he doesn’t say; that doesn’t answer my question.

“You were close to my dad, if anyone has any idea who could have done it, it would be you,” you say. “What were his last movements?”

“I wasn’t he secretary,” his words are biting even though his face is all smiles.

“Oh, sorry, should I have gone to them? Would they have more information than you do?”

Your bait works, drawing him in, hook line and sinker.

“I was away,” he snaps, smile dropping off his face. “On business. Your father’s business in fact. Took his place last minute. I don’t know how this has anything to do with his death.”

You shrug, act unbothered. “It’s just a theory. And you’ll be one of the first to say that most theories I come up with are nonsense.”

Conan levels his gaze on you. The corner of his lips turns up slightly as if amused by your self-deprecation. And though he keeps his eyes on you, his next question isn’t directed at you.

“And what do you think about all of this, Park?”

If Jimin is surprised by the question directed to him he doesn’t show it, or at least his posture doesn’t because neither you nor Conan bother to look over at him.

“The Boss thinks it’s worth looking into and that’s all I care about.”

You see the flicker in Conan’s eyes at that. The Boss. Yoongi, no longer your dad. And here Conan sits where he once had Jimin’s role and now is drinking alcohol at 10am. He’s stooped in position since your father’s death, enough for most people to rule him out as a suspect. But you’re aware of something most people won’t be, that Conan now holds no power and that breeds its own desperation. He’s on the outside looking in like you always have been and you know the lengths he might go to try and regain his place.

“I’ll write you a list,” Conan finally says before taking a long gulp of his Bloody Mary, finishing it off. “Though I’m sure nothing exciting will rear its head. After all, I’d be killing the fucker if I thought anything had happened.”

“I don’t doubt it,” you reply, almost sounding bored. “Have it sent over to the house when it’s done,” you push to your feet, Jimin having to do the same so you can make your way out of the booth. “Sorry we couldn’t stay for food.”

There are no pleasantries as you leave. No goodbye’s or shakes of hands, Conan doesn’t even reply as you walk to the door. Jimin, however, is hot on your heels and you can sense his boiling desire to speak. He at least waits until you’re outside, the door to the restaurant closing behind you before he says anything.

“Well, that was a waste of time.”

You ignore him as you open the car door and slide into the back seat. You get a blissful few seconds of peace before the other door opens and Jimin slides in next to you.

“You know, I warned your brother that you’d be in over your head. I think that just proved it.”

“Going to run and tell him like the good little lap dog you are?” You can’t help but bite at the bait you know he so clearly left for you, twisting to look at him as the car pulls away from the curb.

There’s a ghost of a smile on his lips like he’s enjoying every second of this.

“Maybe I’ll enjoy watching you destroy yourself more.”

You roll your eyes, fall back into your seat. “Do you ever get bored of using the same lines over and over?”

“Haven’t so far.”

“Clearly,” you mutter, turning to look out the window.

The silence draws out for only a couple of seconds before Jimin breaks it. It would have been too good to think he’d remain silent the whole time.

“What good is a list going to do?”

“Maybe I just want to make Conan feel like he’s doing something useful.”

“Since when have you ever cared about him?”

You don’t reply to that one, just watch the world flashing past your window. The leaves on the trees are starting to come out, flowers blooming up from the ground. Spring has always been your favourite season, new life and new hope. And yet Jimin is ruining all of that peace by not keeping his mouth shut.

“Yoongi will be asking for reports,” he says and you pull your gaze from the beautiful world outside to the searingly handsome man sat next to you. “What am I supposed to tell him? That you’ve asked Conan to make a list? And you’re going to do what exactly with that?”

“Well, that wholly depends on what he writes.”

Jimin doesn’t seem impressed by your answer. His smile fading only for yours to blossom, like a weird game the two of you are playing.

“That’s not going to be good enough for Yoongi.”

“Sounds like your problem, not mine.”

Jimin’s eyes turn to fire. “And what if you get what you want? What if you get a place in this gang? You think Yoongi will be satisfied with these answers then? No, you’ll be gone before you’ve even joined.”

“It’s lovely to hear you still have such undying faith in me Jimin,” you bite, turning back to look out the window.

The tension in the car rises, both of you brooding but neither of you saying any of the words that whirl around your heads. It’s silent the whole way back to the house and you’re not sure if that’s better or worse than hearing what he has to say.

The bag swings lightly away from you, swinging back only for you to punch it away again. It feels good, the slight ache in your arm at the impact, the force of your fist hitting the punching bag. It drives your thoughts away, it gets your anger out, it helps you think straight. Because that’s what’s happened since you got here, or more what’s not happened; you can no longer think straight here.

Six years, you’ve had six years to prepare for this and yet why do you care more about what some guy thinks then making this all work. You shouldn’t be getting so riled up by Jimin, you should have forgotten him and moved on, but it doesn’t help when he is seemingly everywhere doing everything he can to not let you forget him.

You hit the bag again, watch and prepare yourself as it starts to swing back. Jungkook taught you, well, you taught yourself what you could at first and then there were those few lessons with Jimin, but it was Jungkook who really taught you. It’s how you met, in fact. At the gym, so far from where you stand now, you so un at ease, Jungkook looking like the gym was his home, all muscle and bulk.

It was one of your first weeks away at university and though you’d been so shamelessly shunned from your home and family, you still had a desire to join the gang. So there you were, stood in the gym, hoping to do some sort of training. But except for Jimin, you’d never actually exercised or punched in front of people before. It was daunting, and Jungkook seemed to take that in and offered you a helping hand. No one had ever done that before, well, one person had, and he’d subsequently broken your heart, so it was no surprise that you were wary. But Jungkook took you under his wing and over time you got closer. He was the family you had never had, and you shared your dreams with him and much to your surprise he said he wanted to help you achieve everything you wanted.

He's your best friend, your confident, your right-hand man, your brother.

You punch the bag and this time when it swings back towards you, you lift a hand to steady it to a stop. A bead of sweat rolls down your face, your hair damp with it.

You could spend all night here punching away your annoyances and still be left standing not rid of them all. But you can’t do that, you have more important things to do, like work out who killed your father.

“So what is it today?”

“Do you ever sleep?” You say the words through gritted teeth as you see Jimin leaning in the same spot he was yesterday morning.

“Or maybe it’s who or where that I should be asking,” Jimin ignores you.

You ignore him, do what you did yesterday and keep walking. Jimin tracks you with his eyes, only pushes off the wall when you reach his side. He falls into step behind you, the noise something that’s been haunting your sleep. Jimin, trailing behind you.

“Where’s your boyfriend?”

You’ve heard the question so many times, people see how close you and Jungkook are and assume that there must be more than friendship there. Ordinarily you would ignore them, what’s it to them if the two of you are intimate or not? But something about the way Jimin says it, or maybe because it’s Jimin who’s asking, irks you.

“Not my boyfriend,” you reply flatly and you’re not sure if the silence is because he’s surprised, actually thought you and Jungkook were a thing or because he’s considering what to taunt you with next.

“Still doesn’t answer my question. Where is he?” He replies a second later, giving no hint to what the pause was about.

“Where are we going? Who are we seeing? Where’s Jungkook?” You parrot his questions back to him as you enter the kitchen, stopping to turn and look at him only when you’re the opposite side of the room to him. He’s already leaning against the door frame, a small smile on his face, amused rather than annoyed by you. “You really have risen in power in the years I’ve been gone if all you can be trusted to do is follow me around all day.”

“Oh,” a wicked smile spreads across his lips and you prepare for the words. “Here’s me thinking you were going to be the next big thing? Isn’t it an important job to help important people?”

Your heart leaps even though you know it’s a lie. Jimin doesn’t think you’re important. If you couldn’t hear it in his sarcastic tone, then you can see it the way his eyes dance and in his crooked smile. Still, you have to turn away from him to gather some composure. Hope is a dangerous thing, and you don’t want any of it sparking inside you.

“How very sweet of you,” you say in the same sarcastic tone, back still to him as you busy yourself with making a coffee. “But you’re let off the hook today. Jungkook’s already left and I’m off to the spa, nothing you’ll be interested in.”

You turn, coffee made, to see a frown between Jimin’s brows. You try to act nonchalant, blow gently on the hot liquid in your cup as you stare at him through the steam.

“The spa?” He questions.

You nod. “My skins a mess. I need a facial.”

The words only make his frown deepen, like he’s trying to work out an impossible puzzle. He doesn’t reply, just stares back at you for a moment as if hoping to find the answer there. And then, as if by magic, it all disappears, the frown, the confusion, the stare, all replaced by that easy look he had before as he pushes himself straight. He walks towards you, standing right next to you as he makes a coffee for himself. He looks down at you, the proximity and glee more unnerving than the confused stare he was giving you moments ago.

“When do we go?”

“We?” The word bursts out of you and it gains another amused smile from Jimin.

“I thought we’d already gathered that I’m your babysitter,” he drops some sugar in his coffee, stirs it round as you stare at him, seething. “That means I go everywhere you go Princess.”

“Even to get a facial?” You ignore the nickname.

Jimin shrugs, that stupid smile still on his face. “You know, my face may be beautiful, but it could also do with some pampering.”

You’re not sure if it’s a dig. Neither of you have spoken about or acknowledged what happened six years ago, but the words still hurt. As much as you like to pretend, you’re still not over it.

“I’m surprised you’re not telling me I should be doing more to work out who killed my dad.”

“You know, I’ve never thought you were stupid Y/N. In fact, I’ve always thought the complete opposite, which is why it’s always surprised me you want to be here,” his words are so casual and yet your heart thumps with each word. You’ve never been this deep, this honest with one another, at least not since your return, and yet he’s acting so blasé about it. “I’m assuming there’s method to your madness. Or maybe, I want you to fail.”

You can see he means it by the look in his eyes. But for once he lacks all nastiness. It reminds you of all the times he said you were too good when growing up, that you were better than the gang, that you should aim for more. You’d not thought of that in a long time, even when he said it at the time you’d pushed it away, because what could be better than the power here, than belonging somewhere, having the large family that the gang presents itself as. But is that what he’s saying now? In his cool, unbothered manner, that he wants you to fail not because he can’t stand the sight of you but because he still thinks you’re better than this place?

You grow hot and break Jimin’s gaze, opting instead to walk back towards the door.

“We leave in ten,” you say over your shoulder.

You’re not here for a facial, as Jimin predicted, and you’re not sure if you’re more annoyed he didn’t believe the lie and therefore came or happy that he didn’t believe the lie and therefore is at least starting to not think so little of you. You don’t remind yourself of his words; I’ve never thought you were stupid Y/N, because that would imply he’s always had faith in you and you’re still in too fragile a place to fully evaluate why that’s such a painful a thought.

You may not be here for the primary reason of getting a facial, but it’s a perk of the task at hand. You sit, leant back in a chair, oils being rubbed into your skin with Jimin in the same position next to you. He wouldn’t have been your first choice in companion for a couples session, but it seems his trust of this being more than you implied only ran so deep – he wouldn’t let you come in here alone, no matter how hard you tried.

“I really needed this,” you say, eyes closed as the woman above you gently applies pressure to your temples.

“You look stressed,” the woman agrees. “We have some products that are good for under your eyes, might help with the dark circles?”

You can almost picture the smirk you know Jimin has on his face at those words, but you push your annoyance down and rid the image from your brain; you need to focus on why you’re here.

“That would be great,” you say. “I haven’t been sleeping well recently. My dad passed away recently.”

It’s not a lie, you’ve not been sleeping well, though the reason for it isn’t because of your dad, or more not because of his death. You’ve been staying in your old bedroom, and it’s become so hard to sleep at night with all the memories tied to the space. You could sleep anywhere else, could have a pick of the rooms in the building – not that it would help – or you could pay to stay in one of the many hotels in the city. But, be it stubbornness or something else, you chose to stay in your old room.

The woman doesn’t catch the lie though, as intended she hears what you say and her fingers falter on your face for half a second. Not much, but enough for you to know she’s caught on.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she mutters. “We have some essential oils that might help you get to sleep better?”

“You know, I heard that he used to come here,” you ignore her question, feel her fingers stutter on your face again, can almost hear Jimin turn his attention towards you. “He liked to come as a way to unwind. I wonder if you ever met him.”

Her fingers draw away, slow as the room grows silent. You sit up and turn to look at her, her eyes are looking everywhere but you, body taught, she’s clearly very uncomfortable.

“I’ll go get those oils,” she mutters and starts to take a step before you stop her.

“What did he promise you? What did he do to you?” Her eyes go to you, wide, scared, and something you can’t read. “How did he hurt you?”

“He never hurt me,” her voice is lower, not the happy customer service tone she was using before.

You cock your head to the side and try not to sound too satisfied. “So you did know him.”

She blanches, but at least doesn’t try to run now.

“What did he give you?”

“Nothing,” she says. “I never wanted anything –”

“If you say you didn’t want anything but him, I think I might be sick.”

“He was different here. He wasn’t the man that he was pretending to be outside.”

“He was a gang leader,” you deadpan.

“He loved me. He cared for me.”

“Yeah, you and who else?”

You watch her jaw clench, and her fists roll into balls. You brace for her to step forward and hit you, but she doesn’t, just stands silently seething. You can see the truth in her eyes, can see that what you said was a good guess. She wasn’t the only one, and she knows it. But you can also see the fact that she isn’t capable of killing because of it, that your dad might not have really loved her, but she at least loved him. You can’t speak for the others, but if you’re information serves correctly she was the closest to him, if it was going to be anyone it would have been her.

“Don’t bother with the oils, I think we’re done here.”

You stand, see Jimin doing the same from the corner of your eye, you’d almost forgotten he was here he’s been so quiet.

“He didn’t deserve you,” she says, obviously not fully grasping who you are or what your relationship with your father was.

You turn and give her a full smile, the gesture causing her to flinch as if you’d pulled a knife out on her.

“Yeah, you’re right, he didn’t.”

Jimin is already stood holding the door open for you. You try to ignore the fact your hair is scraped back and you still have oil lingering on your skin. Ignore the looks you gain as you walk through the lobby and out to the car waiting for you.

Jimin slides in next to you and for once doesn’t talk immediately. There’s a minute or two of silence and then when he finally breaks it his voice is soft and the words aren’t a jab.

“How did you work that out? No one knew he had girls on the side.”

“Is that a compliment?” You look at him, mock shock in your tone.

He shrugs, neither confirming nor denying.

“I don’t know, it’s as if I can actually be useful. As if me wanting to join this gang isn’t because I think it’ll be shits and giggles, but because I’ve actually given it some thought.”

There’s a pause and then Jimin says softly, “Why?”

Confusion is written all over his face from your words. He doesn’t get it, he never has.

“I always saw you as a little girl, someone who wouldn’t hurt a fly. You were all smiles and giggles whenever I caught you on your own, so innocent despite where you lived,” he’s not saying it as a jab, purely stating facts, but the fact that’s how he saw you still makes something deep inside you burn. “You changed though. Not just now, but then too. You grew up and you became so twisted by your environment. And I never got it, I still don’t. You had a chance to get out, to have a normal life, to choose something other than this.”

There’s no question, but you still hear it. You let out a sigh before you start.

“It’s family,” you say, your voice now as soft as Jimin’s, both of you dropping the pretences if only for a moment. “Something I never grew up with, because even if I lived there, they never welcomed me and it was something I always craved, still do. I don’t have to love them, they don’t have to love me, but I still want their respect.”

“You don’t need it. You could have so much more.”

“But I want this.”

He shakes his head, a gentle movement, but enough to show you he still doesn’t get it.

“I’m not fragile. I can do this,” your voice has a bit more bite to it now, a small amount of annoyance seeping in.

“I know you can,” Jimin says, voice still soft. “But it doesn’t mean you have to.”

You take in a long breath. You feel like you’re going around in circles, swear you’ve had this conversation a thousand times and it’s still ending the same. He’ll never get it, none of them will ever get it.

“I’m not a little girl anymore.”

“I can see,” Jimin mutters across you, words so low they’re barely audible.

“I can make my own choices.”

Jimin sits up straight, his eyes roam your body, his head slowly nodding this time. You try not to blanch away from him, let his eyes wonder all they want until he finally comes back to meet your eyes. He stares at you, deep and his eyes full of something, like he’s about to say something. But then his eyes flick behind you and when his eyes go back to your face the look is gone, replaced by a certain emptiness, the mask he always wears around you now back on his face.

“Your brother wants to talk to you.”

You don’t expect it, eyes flick to the window to see what Jimin saw, you’re pulling up to the house. You look back to Jimin, wait to see if he’s going to say whatever was on his mind a second ago, but you can tell the moments passed. He looks closed, back to the Jimin you hardly recognise.

Someone comes to your door, opens it up as you stay sitting staring at Jimin.

“Right,” you say flatly, still silently hoping for more time, for just a few more minutes of not acting like you hate each other. “I guess I’ll go then.”

You sit and wait a beat but only get a nod from Jimin. And after everything that’s happened, there’s a certain amount of sadness as you step out of the car and head into the house, an emptiness in you as you walk to Yoongi’s office.

He’s sat looking at papers when you walk in and close the door behind you, doesn’t even look up to greet you.

“I heard you found his mistresses,” he glances up at you. “Congrats.”

You don’t say anything as you walk and take a seat opposite him. He lets the silence drag, takes his time to examine the paper in his hand before setting it down a levelling his gaze at you.

You’ve never had a close relationship, didn’t grow up like most siblings who tease each other, laugh and cry together. You hardly had anything to do with each other, him seven years your elder, too busy trying to impress your father to bother with you. But he was still your brother, still protected you, still took you under his wing at times. You were never close, but he still at least treated you like family, gave you a fair chance that no one else did.

“It’s more than you’ve managed I hear.”

He doesn’t wince or react to your backhanded words. Instead, he leans back into his chair, relaxes into the conversation.

“And what else have you managed to find out?”

“Jimin not doing a good enough job?”

“I want to hear it from you.”

You shrug, buy yourself a second or two to work out what you want to tell him and what you want to keep to yourself. Because although Jimin has been following you this whole time he’s still naïve to it all, can’t see the wood through the trees. You’ve used it to your advantage, the fact that they’re underestimating you is currently working in your favour, and you know far more than they realise. For one, Jungkook has been able to do what he wants, hasn’t had a tail like you, can go and talk to people you don’t want other’s hearing about. Feeds you information that only the two of you are privy to. Because if you’re going to do this, you don’t want there being any risk that it’s not clear that it was you who did it.

“I’m still working things out. But I know it wasn’t the girls, even if they had the opportunity and enough prerogative, they couldn’t have killed a man.”

“Ok,” Yoongi says, leaning forward so his elbows are on the desk. “And that’s all? You’ve ruled out some girls and no one else?”

You shrug, pretend to be disinterested and unbothered.

“I can call this deal off at any time. I don’t need you, I’m doing you a favour here.”

“And I’m grateful,” you say with a sarcastic smile.

It’s a dangerous game, you know, you just can’t help yourself. If there’s one thing you hate, it’s people looking down on you.

“So tell me what you’ve found Y/N. Something useful,” his voice is dark, a warning behind the words.

You don’t answer straight away, use his tactic against him, let the silence seep into him. He doesn’t let it show that it bothers him. At least he can take what he gives out.

“Do you know why dad hated me?” You watch a shadow cross Yoongi’s face, he wasn’t expecting you to say that, but he doesn’t stop you. “He told me once. Sat me down right here in this chair, in this room, like we are now and told me. I was eight years old and he told me that I reminded him of mum. I remember smiling as he described how my eyes were like hers, my smile, my kindness, my weakness. All like her.”

Yoongi stares at you, the darkness still in his eyes, but now it looks like it’s for a completely different reason. He seems more taught, seems to lean towards you as if he doesn’t want to miss a word. And though the anger boils up in you at the memory of little you being shattered apart, you’re glad that Yoongi is at least giving you the space to talk about the thing you’ve never told anyone.

You don’t know why you’re telling him, you’ve never told anyone before. A hidden secret between you and your dad. It always felt nasty growing up, something you didn’t want anyone knowing because if no one knew, maybe you could change it, maybe you could prove him wrong. But you’re done with being afraid of your dad, he’s dead, there’s nothing he can do to you now. And maybe it was the conversation in the car with Jimin, both of you opening up more than you have before that makes you tell Yoongi now.

“He told me that I would never amount to anything, just like her,” your voice is level despite your hammering heart. “The woman who he had children with, who gave birth to me, who died because of him. And he sat me down and said that I was so like her that he could hardly bare to have me living in the same house as him, that he couldn’t wait for me to leave and not be his burden.”

The silence seems stunned now, Yoongi’s stare almost sad. It at least makes you happy to know that he never knew that.

“He had to keep me around, couldn’t kick me out on the street, but he made it plainly clear what he thought of me. For all those years and everyone went along with it. Because he’s the boss, and what he says goes; I’m weak and I don’t belong here. I don’t blame you for the past, I just hope you’ll be better. I just want a chance.”

You don’t know what you wanted, outrage, sympathy, a promise or possibly a fight to contradict it, that he’s not like that. But what you get is silence, his signature.

You let out a short sigh before pushing yourself to your feet. His eyes follow you as you rise above him.

“I still need something from you,” his voice sounds thicker even though it doesn’t waiver. You hear everything he doesn’t say. You still need to do this, you still need to prove you deserve a place here.

You give him a small, short nod. You’re on the same page. Even if he welcomed you with open arms you’d need to prove yourself to everyone outside this room, still need to earn their respect. Yoongi can only do so much, he alone might be able to give you a place in the gang, but he alone can’t convince the hundreds of people below him, it might only ruin how he’s viewed.

You can do this. You want to do this. You give Yoongi the barest of smiles before turning and heading out the door. There’s a lot of work to be done.

You don’t go to the gym tonight, instead you go and watch people fight. You slip out the house the same way you do when you go to the gym, no one seeming to take note of your movements this late at night, as if they still see you as that young girl who has to go to bed at a reasonable time.

The fighting is not exactly what you’d call entertaining though. Men hitting men for money always feels barbaric to you. But you still stand in the crowd and watch unflinching, because although no one pays you any attention, you know there must be eyes on you.

Blood and spittle fly across the gym mat, sweat drips down each men’s face’s and you’re honestly surprised they’re still standing and still look so well put together. Well, at least one of them does, the other not so much. Still, round after round is punched and neither man claims victor. You’re not sure if it’s because the one man is enjoying taunting the other so much or more likely because he’s being paid to prolong it, but you’re sure he could have knocked the other man out and be finished in round one.

You clench your jaw as the weaker, more distressed man lands what looks like a solid punch on the other’s jaw. Are surprised when he seems to only shake off the hit, no teeth missing.

“He has your problem,” you tense at the low words whispered in your ear. You weren’t aware of anyone approaching and certainly no one standing so close, even in this crammed room. “Has his fist raised too high, so it lacks all the power.”

You twist you head to the side and almost bump your nose with Jimin’s he’s stood so close to you. You flinch back a centimetre and yet Jimin doesn’t move at the close proximity, stays exactly where he is.

“I don’t do that anymore,” you defend, trying to hide the flinch, a sure sign of weakness when Jimin didn’t react at all.

“Ah, because I taught you everything you know?”

“No. Jungkook did that,” you say flatly, no lie, but something crosses Jimin’s eyes at the words.

“Well, I at least taught you that,” he nods his head to the fighting ring, his voice lacking any humour now.

You turn back around, now fully aware of Jimin’s presence all down the back and right-hand side of your body. Has he moved closer or were you really that blind to his heat before? You turn in time to see the stronger, less ragged man finally land a knockout blow. The other man falls like a led balloon to the floor, no doubts of the clear win but still someone counts down from ten to see if he will rise. When he doesn’t the room erupts, and the stronger man does a half-hearted celebration.

“You definitely didn’t teach me that,” you have to turn back to Jimin to make sure he catches the words over the roaring of the crowd.

“I taught you to punch,” he raises an eyebrow.

“I taught myself to punch.”

“I taught you how to punch properly.”

You roll your eyes at him even though the small smile on your lips betrays you. Turning your head to look back at the fighting ring you catch the winning man going under the ropes in search of a quieter space.

A hand catches yours as you start to follow and you naturally tense.

“So I don’t lose you,” Jimin says lowly into your ear, his hand tightening in yours when you try to slip away.

In all the years you’ve known Jimin you can’t remember a time you held his hand, at least not like this. Warm, soft, you’d have imagined they’d be tough with callous, but they’re not. You could pull out of grip, tell him where you’re heading so he doesn’t lose you, but you do none of these things, keep his hand in yours and guide him through the room.

Even when you’re free of the crowd, where Jimin can walk comfortably by your side, neither of you let go of each other’s hands. At least not as quickly as you could. Instead, you wait until he steps beside you. He squeezes your hand in his and you can sense him looking down at you, but you don’t look at him, not sure what your face will give away if you do, and just like that the warmth of his hand is gone.

You try not to miss it, after all Jimin’s still there, the warmth of his body seeping into your side rather than the heat of his hand. And it’s not like it meant anything, not like you wanted it to mean anything.

“Where are we heading?” Jimin’s voice is further away than before but it still sends a tingle down your spin. You supress it though, remain stony faced, focus forward.

You don’t give him an answer, it’s obvious where you’re going and you know Jimin’s only asking it to break whatever tension has risen between you. At least you’re not the only one feeling something after that short hand hold, though you doubt Jimin’s feelings are the same as yours, he’s probably feeling more awkward about what he did, worried it will spark feelings you’ve long buried, and he long ago dismissed. Well, he has nothing to worry about, he well and truly made sure you will never tell him your feelings again, at least no positive ones.

There’s a burly man stood at the door that leads to the back rooms. You don’t even deign him with a look and you can’t help but feel immense pleasure when he doesn’t stop you from pushing through the door. You don’t even consider it’s more likely because Jimin’s in your presence, just feel a course of power going through you you’ve always longed to feel. This is what you want, this is why you’re doing everything you’re doing. It gives you a spark of new determination and your strides become longer and firmer as you push through the named locker room door.

There’s only a single person in here, the man who won. He’s shirtless, sweat dripping down his chiselled chest like beads of water, his hair is damp, ruffled as if he’s been running his hand through it. He’s sat, hunched over on one of the wooden benches, doesn’t even look up as the door opens and closes.

You take a minute to survey his body, for bruises and scratches you tell yourself, though you can’t deny the smooth pains are a perk. So what if your eyes linger on the hard bumps on his stomach or the wide pains of his shoulders?

There’s not a scratch on him, and though it takes time for bruises to swell and show you can tell that none will appear however long you wait. There are drips of blood on him, but you can tell even that isn’t his own. It’s impressive, you may not have enjoyed watching the fight but you can’t deny that he holds skill in the way he so easily controlled the fight for so long.

“Congratulations,” you finally break the silence and still the man doesn’t look at you, just stares down at his bloody knuckles. “It looked like a tough fight.”

It’s a lie, it didn’t look like a tough fight at all, the man had complete control over every punch – his own and his opponents. But it at least gets him to flick his eyes up at you. They go up, back down to his hands and then as if something caught his attention, go back and fully settle on your body. A heat akin to satisfaction goes through your body at the way he stares at you. You’d been hoping for it, had worn clothes that hug and accentuate your assets, but still, there’s nothing like a plan coming together.

“Did it?” The man cocks his head in question.

This time you let him see you look at him. Are slow with the way you drag your eyes down and then back up his body. And when you meet his face again, and even though he looks to be as chiselled as a Greek statue, there’s a flush to his skin.

“No, I guess it looked pretty easy,” you smile at him and to your satisfaction see him start to smile back.

“And is that why you’re here?” Though his face is tinged pink, his voice is still silky smooth, the bass of it reverberating through you. “To congratulate me?”

“Is there something else you’d like me to do?”

The man sits up straighter, his chest now fully exposed to you as his eyes widen, drinking you in and no doubt thinking of the many other things he’d like to be doing to you. You let him look, let him imagine it all and don’t baulk away from it.

But, before he can open his mouth and reply, before he can tell you all the delicious things that are running through his mind, something – or more someone ­– steps up beside you and ruins your fun.

The mans eyes go from you to Jimin as if only just realising you’re not the only two people in the room. He straightens, not in the way he did when reacting to you, but more becoming stiff and rigid.

“Park.”

“Joon.”

Of course, they know each other. It would have been too good to have assumed Jimin’s presence would go unnoticed. But when you turn to your side to look at Jimin and shoot him a look of disdain, he’s as stiff and taught as the man sat down.

“Good fight,” Jimin says, eyes not drifting to look at you and your glare. In fact, he has the audacity to take another step forward, now stood slightly in front of you, his body partially blocking you. You could strangle him you’re so annoyed. “How much did you make from controlling the fight like that?”

Over Jimin’s shoulder you can see the man – Joon – look from you to Jimin, his jaw clenching, eyes narrowing.

“What is this?”

“Ignore him,” you push past Jimin, possibly a bit harder than necessary. “He’s just my bodyguard.”

Joon’s eyes light up as they go to Jimin. “Park Jimin, a bodyguard? Well there’s a turn for the books.”

“I prefer the term protector.”

“Not that there’s anything to protect,” you smile sweetly at the man and take a step closer so you can hold your hand out. “Y/N.”

He holds your gaze as he takes your hand. “Namjoon.”

His hand is as large as the rest of his body, warm and luckily the blood has long dried so it’s not wet. His grip is firm and it’s not your fault if your hands linger in his a little longer than necessary. It’s only Jimin shuffling behind you that gets Namjoon to break eye contact and only a glance behind you that has him immediately dropping your hand. Yep, you’re going to murder Jimin and his protective ass.

“Ignore him,” you say. “I don’t even know why he’s here.”

And you don’t, now you think of it, you assumed no one followed you. But then, wasn’t it Jimin’s job to follow you. And you may have mixed feelings towards him at the moment, but you at least know that he’s thorough enough at his job to not have let you slip out unnoticed so easily.

“Yeah, you have nothing to protect here Jimin,” a wicked, cheeky smile takes over Namjoon’s face as he looks from Jimin back to you. It makes your stomach coil in a good way. “And what is it I can do for you?”

“Many things,” you purr.

“Let me rephrase. What do you want me to do first?”

You pause as if to consider. “Well, I would say you look like you could do with a shower.”

The implication is left in the way you say the words and a glint sparks in Namjoon’s eyes. He shuffles as if he’s about to stand up and then a hand comes to your shoulder and you’re dragged a step backwards.

“Whatever the fuck this is, you’re not doing it and pretending I’m not here,” Jimin says lowly from beside you.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t realise you’d want to be involved,” you say in a butter wouldn’t melt voice, sarcastic smile on your lips before turning back to Namjoon. “Do you mind?”

Namjoon doesn’t smile back, the playful glint in his eye is gone and you know it’s because of the death glare he’s receiving from Jimin. The man just easily won a fight, controlled it perfectly, and yet he’s scared of Jimin. You know Jimin has a reputation, have heard stories growing up, but you have never witnessed this before, only the respect he’s earnt from the gang, not the fear he gets from outsiders. You’re not sure how you feel about it, but something inside you flutters.

You can almost feel the annoyance rolling off Jimin, more than ever before. As much as you’d like to keep pushing this, part of you is worried what might happen if he were to finally give up with your shit and snap.

You roll your eyes as you look back at Jimin. “What? It’s not like you’ve ever been interested before.” You see a flash of something cross his eyes before you turn back to Namjoon. Jimin doesn’t stop you when you take a step back towards him, hand going into your pocket for something. “I came because I’m a fan. And because I’d be interested to talk. Maybe another time?”

It takes him a second but he accepts the card you offer him, blank except for your phone number written on one side. His eyes flick over the digits before he gives you a small nod. Satisfied you tell him you’ll speak soon before turning and heading out the door you entered.

There’s another fight happening, but you pay it no attention as you go to the exit. You know Jimin’s behind you, can sense all his feelings flowing off him in waves.

You pause when you get outside, the car you told to wait for you is gone, and you stopped lets Jimin push past you. He doesn’t say anything as he goes to the parked car a few spaces away and gets into the drivers seat.

You fume, stand stubborn in your spot. It’s a predictable move, Jimin telling your driver to head home and he’ll make sure you’re safe, but it’s not something you’d thought of. And you’re resistant to get in Jimin’s car.

Both of you wait each other out. You stood unmoving. Jimin idling in his car.

You give in first. Let out a huff only you hear before you walk to the passenger side of the car and climb in. The door is barely closed, your seatbelt not even on, before Jimin goes into first and accelerates away.

He doesn’t have to say anything. His body language, the way he’s reacting telling you everything. He’s pissed. You just can’t tell exactly which part of the night he’s most pissed about. The fact you left the house alone without telling anyone? Where you went? The fact you went and spoke to Namjoon, flirted with him? Or the fact you did it all so un-bashfully in front of him as if he wasn’t there?

You have to look out the side window to hide the fact there’s a small smile on your lips. There’s something about this protective, jealous Jimin that amuses you. Sure, he’s an ass and has no right to feel any of this towards you, but still, it gives you some form of pleasure to witness it. You’d never tell him that though.

“What’s your game?” Jimin finally says after a few minutes.

You continue to look out the window, hide your face from his inquisitive eyes you know are flicking in your direction, trying to read the answer there.

“No game,” you lie.

“So you’re telling me you went there tonight because you actually wanted to watch a fight?” His tone is flat, like he can’t even imagine you answering yes.

“I’m a fan of Namjoon’s,” you say before turning to see his reaction. His jaw is clenched and his eyes are firmly fixed on the road. “Just wanted to make some more friends.”

“You didn’t even know his name.”

“Sure. But come on, even you can admit one look at him and there’s not many that wouldn’t instantly want to know him.”

He shakes his head. Eyes flick quickly to you and then back to the road.

“You’ve changed, Y/N. You’re not the young girl I used to know.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. You just never chose to see me back then. I’ve not changed at all.”

“Says the girl who refused to see that every boy was chasing after her. Who wasn’t interested in boys at all, let alone flirting so openly.”

“Yeah, well that was because I only had eyes for you.”

Even in the dark light you can see the flush that creeps up Jimin’s neck. You didn’t say it to have the upper hand, you just said it because it’s the truth and you’ve been dancing around the topic for too long. You don’t particularly want to sit down and hash it all out, but you’re also kind of sick of pretending that it didn’t happen. It changed and shaped you into the person you are, everything Jimin has done for you has, and you’re sick of pussy footing around it to what? Save face? Well, you’re sick of feeling embarrassed about it.

“Anyway, I meant that you always saw me as the young dumb little kid.”

“I didn’t think you were dumb,” he’s quick to rebut. “Do you really think that’s what I thought?”

You don’t reply and your silence is answer enough. It’s not that you thought that, but more that you know he always saw you as a little sister, and though he took you under his wing, you knew that he was just like everyone else with his thoughts that you didn’t belong in the gang.

“I thought the complete opposite – I think you’re smart Y/N. You went to school, got into university. Hell, I could hardly make it through the few classes I actually attended growing up.”

“You don’t even know what grade I got at uni,” you mumble.

“A first,” he replies easily and you shoot your wide eyes to him. You can tell it’s not a guess or assumption, he says it with a certainty that shows he knows the answer. “You may not have spoken to me, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t forget about you or want to know what you were doing with your life.”

Your heart cracks a little at the knowledge. You thought he’d abandoned you that day he broke your heart, thought that was him throwing you out with the trash. You had never thought for a second that he still thought about you, you hoped but you never thought those late night fantasies could actually be truth.

“You never messaged me,” your words come out slightly husky, full of emotion.

Jimin shrugs as if it’s not a big issue. “I didn’t think you’d want to hear from me.”

The idea sounds bizarre to you, because even thinking back on everything, you know for a fact that if Jimin had reached out at any point you would have leapt on it. Even after feeling betrayed, after the disappointment, after all the tears and at times the hatred you felt towards him for the way he went about things; you’d still have loved for even a simple message from him. He may have rejected you, may have broken your heart, but Jimin meant so much more to you than a simple crush. He could have sent a simple hi, could have let you know that he was thinking of you, could have said anything, but he didn’t. And now your relationship is this; weird and taught with an awkward tension and hardly able to hold a conversation with one another.

“We really messed up, huh?”

Jimin glances over at you, uncertainty in his eyes until he sees the small smile on your lips. The smile doesn’t show up on his lips and a spike of worry goes through you. He focuses back on the road as he speaks again.

“You shouldn’t have come back.”

You tense, it wasn’t spoken as a threat, still said in the same soft tone he’s been using for the entire conversation.

“I’ll forever feel guilty for what I did to you, for how I made you feel, but I’ll never be sorry for it,” your heart hammers as you watch Jimin talk. “I’ve missed you, but you don’t belong here Y/N. You can’t stay here.”

“I thought we just went through this,” you whisper, voice husky.

“I can’t watch you break. I can’t watch them break you Y/N,” you’re pulling into the drive and Jimin rolls to a stop before any of the outside lights reach your windows. He turns to you, even through the darkness you can see the raw emotion in his eyes. “Because that’s what they’re doing. Kill you, twist you, change you, it’s all the same and I’m not going to sit here and watch it happen.”

Your eyes flick between his, frown between your eyes. He’s never been this real with you and you wonder if it’s because you’ve never truly been alone until this moment. Walls have ears in your house, but here in Jimin’s car you might be the most alone you’ve ever been.

“Then don’t watch.”

Jimin shakes his head. “Don’t you think I would if I could.”

“Then leave.”

He huffs out some air, a laugh lacking any humour. Frustration, this time you’re the one not understanding him.

“Don’t you think I would have done that a long time ago if I could. I’m tied now, I can’t leave. But that doesn’t mean you can’t, you still have time.”

He sounds desperate, wants you to understand while he has you here listening. He leans towards you as he speaks, his words spilling out of him as if they’ve been locked inside and now they’re finally able to escape they trip over themselves in the rush to get out.

“I don’t want to,” you whisper, and you think you see something break in Jimin’s eyes as he falls away from you. “Is that why you did it? All those years ago, you knew I’d leave if you turned me down so cruelly.”

A muscle twitches in Jimin’s jaw as he looks away from you and it’s all the confirmation you need to know you have him. Things click into place, the long dead hope starts to spark in you. It’s still not easily forgiven, but it at least makes sense.

“I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“But you did. And I didn’t want to leave.”

You sit staring at Jimin as he stares out the window.

You’ve never been so open with each other while also never feeling so far apart. At least you’re getting things out, but at the same time you wish he hadn’t said anything. Your minds whirling, everything you thought was true is now thrown into question.

You don’t know what you do now, don’t know where you sit with Jimin.

You look out the window to the house, see the door closing, your eyes missing however walked in. You want to say more but also have nothing to say. Emotions are still raw and though you’re opening up you’re not sure that either of you can go back to how things were, too much has happened.

“Thanks for the lift,” you say eventually.

Jimin doesn’t reply, doesn’t look at you, doesn’t move as you unbuckle and climb out of the car.

Your mind can’t move away from the conversation as you head inside. Passing by people you hardly take in their stares as you blindly walk to your room. You feel so angry, yet also somewhat relieved. Like some weird paradox inside your mind.  

He didn’t want to hurt you. Bullshit. He knew exactly what he was doing. You know he did it on purpose. But now you know he did it to get rid of you, not because he thought you were weak, not because he thought women don’t deserved a place here, but because he thought you deserved better. It’s something he’s always said, and yet why is it only sinking in now?

And then all that shit about being trapped here. You’re not naïve to how the gang works, how it’s easy to join – in every case but yours it seems – but it’s so much harder to leave. But you’ve always viewed Jimin as different. He isn’t trapped, he joined as a young child because he wanted to and has stayed because he’s good and he wants to. That’s right, right?

And it irks you that he can’t stop going on about how he viewed you back then, and how much you’ve changed now. Yeah, no shit, you’re not a young kid anymore. What was he expecting? Everyone changes through their teens, let alone now into your early 20s. Is that why he seems to hate you now, why he has been acting so different around you, because you’ve changed and he can no longer stand what you’ve become?

But then he was also nice. He opened up to you. He actually talked to you about his thoughts and feelings. And even if you disagree with so much of what he said, isn’t it a step forward? Shouldn’t you be happy? It’s at least a step to going back to how you were, because although you shouldn’t care, you can’t deny that you miss Jimin, that you wouldn’t leap at the chance to have him back in your life.

You stomp up the stairs, throw your door open so that it hits and then rebounds off the wall. You’re fuming. Start to pace not even realising you’re muttering let alone noticing that there’s someone in the room with you.

“Someone’s got their knickers in a twist.”

You stop, turn to glare at Jungkook, jaw clenched shut. He’s leaning against the wall, something in his hand. There was a smile on his face before you looked at him, but by the time you saw it was swiftly falling away.

“Why is it men always feel the need to lean on things?” You snap.

To his credit Jungkook doesn’t stand up straight, just stares at you before raising an eyebrow.

“Men are fucking annoying is all,” you grind the words out.

“While that’s a very sweeping statement, I can’t disagree,” Jungkook replies smoothly.

You want to retain your anger, don’t want Jungkook to make you feel better. You’re still not done brooding, still not finished being angry at Jimin and his stupid fucking ideas.

“What is it Jeon?”

Finally Jungkook stands taller, his face falling flat, more serious. A nerve twitches in your jaw, mentally you prepare yourself. He lifts his hand, that thing in his hand you’d dismissed coming back into view. A piece of paper, nothing special, but your eyes flick from it to Jungkook, anxiety rising in you.

“I went where you told me,” he states, his voice dropping an decibel. “And I found some stuff you need to hear.”

Part 2

[achoonihaachu]

Achoo's Masterlist <3

the appointment went well, no? ^_^ i've got your prescription right here, if you need to get your fill for whatever your little sickness bug has got you down on, you can take your pick from headcanons to a longer series, from fluff to angst, I've got ya!

only take enough for what i've prescribed you with though! i don't need ya to come back complaining about eye strain >:((

Obey Me! Shall we Date?

Series:

For those craving a slow burn!

Replaced MC! AU: GOD MUST HATE ME - "Same hands that made the moon and the stars, got carpal tunnel and forgot some parts..."

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

The Endings

First Ending

Second Ending

CHILD! MC AU: See U Later - "Time wasn't in our favor, this isn't goodbye this is simply see you later..."

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three (TBA)

Chapter Four (-)

Chapter Five (-)

Chapter Six (-)

Epilogue (-)

Individual Fics:

For those who've had their hearts stolen by someone special!

Lucifer: The Headstrong First-born, Avatar of Pride

Sun in Her Eyes - What would your relationship with Lucifer be like if he knew immediately that you and Lilith are connected? He misses her dearly and... on druken nights, he swears on his life he sees his dear sister in your eyes.

Mammon: The Scummy Second-born, Avatar of Greed

Borrowed Time- Mc is growing old and she can do nothing to stop it. Time isn't something just anyone could control. One night, MC just breaks down in tears, terrified of growing old. How does Mammon react? - angst, sfw

[1:12 AM] Savior - "Mammon, you're the good-for-nothing brother" - angst, sfw

Leviathan: The Otaku Third-born, Avatar of Envy

nothing yet!

Satan: The Witty Fourth-born, Avatar of Wrath

nothing yet!

Asmodeus: The Charming Fifth-born, Avatar of Lust

nothing yet!

Beelzebub: The Famished Sixth-born, Avatar of Gluttony

nothing yet!

Belphegor: The Sleepy Seventh-born, Avatar of Sloth

nothing yet!

Diavolo: The Sweet Crown Prince of the Devildom

Burn for You - WIP

Barbatos: The Highly Competent Time Lord and Butler

nothing yet!

Simeon: The Intelligent and Angelic Writer

nothing yet!

Solomon: The Shady but Powerful Human Sorcerer

nothing yet!

Luke: The Innocent Little Angel Exchange Student

nothing yet!

Headcanons:

For those craving for something short but sweet (or angsty)

House of Lamentation: (Brothers)

Brothers React to an MC who is Blind to Glass - sfw

Brothers React to MC and Their Favorite Plush - sfw

Brothers React to an MC with a Nose Job that Never Heals- sfw

Brothers React to a child asking if they are married to MC (Older Brothers) (Younger Brothers) - sfw

Brothers react to "Feeling" you (Older Brothers) (Younger Brothers) - NSFW

Purgatory Hall & the Demon Lord's Castle: (Dateables)

Dateables React to an MC who is Blind to Glass - sfw

OCS:

nothing yet!

[xxvalkyriesxx]

Thank you to @lady-bluebird-luv and @littedidyouknow for the tag <3 <3 <3

If anyone wants to join in, I would love to know your answers <3 <3

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 21!!! I finally moved onto a second page

2. What's your A03 word count?

244,593

3. What fandoms do you write for?

ACOTAR and recently Cruel Prince!

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Hate Me Instead

Chains

The Thief and the Rake

Books and Wings

Present

(this list is surprising to me...)

5. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Resurrect Me and it's like the only one 😅 I guess Hate Me Instead is bittersweet!

6. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I love a happy ending. I think Blossoming in Winter has that big grand happy note!!

7. Do you get hate on fics?

No I have been really lucky!

8. Do you write smut? If so what kind?

Yes although I am writing a ton now and feel like I've forgotten all the skills! Seriously though, somehow there was Hungry Thirsty Roots and then Thief, Chains and gift exchange are all in progress...

9. Do you write cross overs? What's the craziest one you've written?

No crossovers but I do like playing with weird sort-of AUs.

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I have not but I wouldn't be opposed!

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Working on naedre with @whatishowedyouinthedark and Timeloop with the @feysand-hivemind!

13. What's your all time favorite ship?

Uhhh Feysand. And up at the top let's put Jude and Cardan, Mulder and Scully, Han and Leia, and maybe Veronica and Logan for some chaos!

14. What's a WIP you'd like to finish but doubt you ever wilI?

I WILL finish my WIPs! But Painted Blind is going to be in the publishing stages for...a while. That fic has like 35 chapters and it's only part one 😅

15. What are your writing strengths?

I hope Feysand banter, especially because I can write it so fast. I love when I hit the dialogue heavy parts because my word count soars. I think I am working on building up stronger plot point twists and drama.

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

Building tension, slow burn. I have no patience. Probably repeating a thousand words and phrases over and over too much. Needing to stop with the commas and cut down on the words...

17. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

Sure!

18. First fandom you wrote for?

Jonny Quest back in the 90's! I remember it being all one long paragraph lol.

19. Favorite fic you've ever written?

IMPOSSIBLE but I'm going to go with Night Falling as my little neglected baby of angst.

20. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Always! Comments are my absolute favorite. The high I get from that notification email is unmatched.

Thanks @popjunkie42!

I'm tagging (if you haven't been tagged already) @rosanna-writer, @xxvalkyriesxx, @xxsolar-writesxx, @belabellissima. No pressure of course :)

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

8!

2. What's your A03 word count?

52,914

3. What fandoms do you write for?

ACOTAR! Although I've written for other fandoms in past under old accounts.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Flying Changes

Death's End

Blame the Heat

The Blood on Your Hands

Labyrinth of the Night

5. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

My fics as of right now don't have angsty endings, but perhaps one day I'll write something like that! with a certain overgrown bat who's color is red will be sobbing

6. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Call me a masochist, but The Blood on Your Hands

7. Do you get hate on fics?

Nope! (at least not yet rip)

8. Do you write smut? If so what kind?

I love writing smut! I want to get more ABO!Acotar stuff out there!

9. Do you write cross overs? What's the craziest one you've written?

I do not! I don't have the brain power for those, so anyone who does them, you're a super genius <3

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don't think so.

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope~

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I haven't but I would be intrigued to so

13. What's your all time favorite ship?

NE SS IA N - this two keep me insane and sane at the same time, an no I will not elaborate.

14. What's a WIP you'd like to finish but doubt you ever wilI?

I recently deleted two fics that I posted months ago that went along the lines of an acotar sequel book following Eris and an OC, but it was so hard to write bc I came up with a lot back story that it drained me.

Just a note sometimes some wips aren't meant to be, and that's okay <3 It would be nice to finish, but I don't have the heart to do it.

15. What are your writing strengths?

Angst? I think I'm pretty good at that! And romantic tension.

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

Writing LOL. Sometimes writing is a bitch and no words end up in documents for days lol.

17. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I only know English ;A; But if I had the knowledge to translate, I don't see why not!

18. First fandom you wrote for?

God this is so embarrassing...I would like to state for the record I was 10/11 and it was 2006/2007. But it was Pokemon 💀💀💀 No it wasn't the pokemon, it was the trainers.

That's how I discovered shipping and got into my first ship war and I think someone told me to off myself. So my parents decided to put parent controls on the computer after that.

19. Favorite fic you've ever written?

It's hard to pick, but Flying Changes. I rode throughout my childhood so being in that world again has made me so happy. Along with that, I wasn't entirely happy with how ACOSF played out (I liked the second half, but I totally understand the criticism and stand and by some of it).

Nesta is my favorite character in all of SJM books, so seeing how her story was lackluster and honestly not as angsty as I would've liked it to be. I really could go into an essay about this LOL.

20. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do! I'm not the best at responding right away, but I try to answer everything when I can <3

20 fic writer questions

thanks for the @melting-houses-of-gold; and I'm tagging @cauldronblssd @missfckingfortune @popjunkie42 @beesays @witch-and-her-witcher @wilde-knight

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 14

2. What's your A03 word count?

382,021

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Just ACOTAR for now!

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Flame of Autumn Your Eyes Whisper Have We Met The Hope of Spring --- A Heartbreak in Mid-December

5. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

every single thing to come. One day I chose violence and decided to write a one shot of the Lady of Autumn burying Jesminda's body.

6. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Literally all the others because I am a SAP at heart haha

7. Do you get hate on fics?

Honestly, no. I have been so lucky, and people are always so lovely and kind and supportive.

8. Do you write smut? If so what kind?

I dooooo. And even though it's been a year, every time I do it my brain is like "you're going to JAIL" lmao

9. Do you write cross overs? What's the craziest one you've written?

I haven't, but I have a Mor/Asterin fic outlined that I hope to get to in 2025! I love Throne of Glass so much

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

No hahaha no one is stealing my shit LOL

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, but am open to it!

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Timeloop! :)

13. What's your all time favorite ship?

It changes! If we're sticking with ACOTAR, I love writing feysand and elucien, but I love reading gwynriel and elucien most.

14. What's a WIP you'd like to finish but doubt you ever wilI?

LOL, my poor, overflowing WIPs folder. I would love to revisit the Azris I started this past summer and abandoned.

15. What are your writing strengths?

I would say details and descriptions? I think I have a lot of adjectives lol.

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

Ugh BANTER. And certain smut haha.

17. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I'm not opposed! I love to read it.

18. First fandom you wrote for?

The Matrix, we pretend we do not see it though.

19. Favorite fic you've ever written?

Hope of Spring is so important to me as my first, but I think Flame of Autumn is my favorite.

20. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Always! I am always just so glad people took the time to read, let alone leave a comment. I have made some really lovely lifelong friends in the comments sections of fics. :)

[helenazbmrskai]

Mr Dream Writer 2 [Drabble Series]

Pairing – [Seokjin x Reader]

Genre – [Best Friend’s Brother AU, Angst, Fluff, Smut, Writer AU, Slow Burn, Coming Off Age, Romance, Roommates To Lovers]

Summary – [Jin is the sun and you’re the moon.]

Warnings – [age gap (8 years), children’s book writer!jin and smut writer!oc, pining, smut (brief oral (f), vaginal fingering fantasies), fluff, angsty thoughts]

Word Count – [1,1k]

Menu: Masterlist l Be part of my permanent taglist to recieve a notification when I upload a new fic or send an ask!  

📢next

*daily updates

”My publisher is hellbent on making me write about love. I was thinking of showing how friendship is important in my next book. You know – have a ladybug as the protagonist meet with strangers and become friends along the way, something similar like that. I don’t want to write a cute love story when I haven’t got a girlfriend in a while. I know it wouldn’t be genuine and I would hate to let my readers down.”

Jin gestures wildly as he explains what happened at the publishing agency. You know how passionate he is about his job and he’s placed in a tough situation. No wonder he come home upset when they kept insisting he needs to write about romance just because they think it would sell the best.

”You could never let your readers down Jin. They love your books.” You place your fork down on the table and reach over to grasp his hand in yours to comfort him. You want to intertwine your fingers so bad with his but you hold back, he’s not yours to hold. You hate to see him upset like this. The jjapaghetti is long forgotten as you both stopped eating.

”How do you do it?” You’re confused for only a second before Jin elaborates. One hand goes over his hair ruffling the locks and making a mess.

”You write romance books. How do you do it when you never had a real boyfriend before?” Okay. Ouch. It’s true but hearing it from him is even more painful than the normal jabs you get from your best friend.

”I don’t need a boyfriend to write about love.” Because I’m in love with you. You don’t offer him much more after that and he lets it go after a while when he realises you won’t budge on the subject. It’s true that you’re working on a romance novel but that’s not how you get your money. Simple romance doesn’t pay your bills.

You have a secret job that only your best friend knows about. You write smut on the internet and you have plenty of followers who tip you generously for your thirst posts. Your popularity is all thanks to the built-up sexual tension because you imagine Jin doing those things to you. It will never happen in real life so you write it down and give the guy a fake name. Simple as that. You started your blog to keep your fantasies in one place but people seemed to love your filthy ideas so you kept going under a fake name.

Once the bowls are empty and both of your bellies are filled you carry the plates to the kitchen. Jin insists on washing the dishes since you cooked so you just stand by the side. Jin hums a catchy tune whilst cleaning and rinsing the plates. You always liked listening to his voice. He could be a singer – he said he might be in his next life and you both shared a laugh. It’s domestic – talking and doing chores together around the house.

Your back is arching one hand is placed on your left thigh firmly to keep you open as two thick fingers enter you. You moan and writhe as Jin’s pillowy lips wrap around your clit his hum travels to your core as he tastes you. You gush around his fingers that pump in and out of your puffy folds. You want to see him devour you so you keep yourself open with two of your fingers in a v shape. He licks you from top to bottom. Removes his fingers in favour to circle his tongue around your hole and his nose gentle rubs on your clit with each lick and swipe of his eager tongue.

”R-Right there.” Your hands hold onto his hair pulling desperately at the strands when Jin reintroduces his two digits and his lips travel up to suck on your clit.

If he keeps this up you’re going to cum on his face. His hips rut against the mattress and his moans add to the pleasure of his tongue mapping out your swollen and sensitive folds. ”Jin. Jinnie. Please don’t stop. I’m so close.” You pull him closer desperately clawing at his wide shoulders as you nearly suffocate him with your thighs. Close. So close. Need a moment and –

”What are you doing?” You jump in your seat when you hear Seokjin call out to you. You look over your shoulder pausing your writing to take in his form leaning against your door. You shut your laptop reflexively when he steps closer – you don’t want him to see what you were up to. You’re self-conscious even if writing smut is your literal job. You sit with your legs crossed wound up from your words. He had to show up right before you wrote the climax. You haven’t heard him knock either. Did you get so lost in your head that you did not hear him at all?

”Writing.”

Jin hums and takes a seat at the edge of your bed close to your little station. You roll around with your chair and face your handsome roommate.

Usually, he doesn’t come and visit you at night. Jin likes to keep to himself when sad to not bring down anyone’s mood so you’re surprised he decided to seek you out. It sends butterflies flying in your tummy. He trusts you enough to show you his vulnerable side.

He looks tired.

You yelp when he rolls you closer to him by grabbing the armrest of your chair his head lands on your meaty thighs so close to your core that it throbs. It was just moments ago that you wrote about him feasting on your pussy and this position is not helping to calm down your racing heart. Jin has no idea what he’s doing to you and you feel bad for ruining the moment with your dirty mind. He’s here to seek your comfort and you just think about yourself.

Your fingers card through his hair and he sighs in contentment. ”Can I sleep here tonight?” You almost didn’t catch the words that he murmurs into your skin.

”You can.” Your voice is soft as if you’re afraid to disturb the moment. Jin holds you by the waist and buries his nose into your lower stomach. He’s been touch starved and while he knows it’s not right to touch you like this he can’t help himself. He longs to feel someone’s body heat next to him. You don’t push him away so he doesn’t stop even when he spoons you from behind laying on your bed listening to each other’s breathing.

You dream of his lips and wide shoulders.