#in my defence I have not been getting any attention besides my friends for a LONG while

[katyspersonal]

hhgghgg Thank you, I guess? XDDD It is just funny how most people believe red and fire fits me just as much if not more than blue and water! Crow, one more Genesis joke and I'll sue the spiked boots off you!!!

In a way, I feel like it is not a very good change, though, even if temporary 🤔 I am more aligned with blue, water, darkness, arcane and misery, it is just... more natural, I guess. The last time I approached a different 'energy' it instead had a form of yellow light and sun, and I was scared of feeling stronger passion for life. And having dreams about sea drying, and burying (as in, funeral) symbols of the sea like shells in the earth. I am scared that if I lose my misery, I'll also lose my insanity. The way I described it to my friends, "If I start burning for anything (as in desiring anything at all: money, love, acceptance by the society, health, power... justice...), my god will stop talking to me" Fuckin BB-tier stuff to say *million skull emojis*

No joking though, this is a very brief hunch of why I only feel understood by these games. xD This is all just to say I have a long history of placing strong meaning in colors, elements of nature and alike, and internet appearance stuff reflects it!

[itsgreti]

UNSPOKEN FEELINGS

pairing. james beaufort x f!reader

summary. james realizes he has deeper feelings for lydia's best friend.

warning. slight cursing, mentions of cheating

word count. 1.4k

a/n: i just watched maxton hall and felt the urge to write a quick fic. english is my second language, so if you find any mistakes, don't hesitate and text me! (divider is made by rookthornesartistry)

The prestigious campus of Maxton Hall Boarding School was a world itself, where the rich teenage life unfolded in all its complexity. Among its many students were James Beaufort, the charming and popular heartthrob, and his twin sister Lydia, known for her big mouth, but besides that, intelligence. (Y/N) was Lydia's best friend since they were toddlers, and because of that she often finds herself in the company of the Beauforts. Despite this, (Y/N) felt like a shadow, always in the background and unnoticed by James. His attractive presence draws attention, as he walks around the hallway, towering over others, always surrounded by admirers. Like everyone in the school, (Y/N) also had a crush on him, but she knew she would always be only his little sister’s friend. And she had long accepted that.

The (Y/L/N) family is famous internationally, because of their luxurious, high-quality dresses. They often collaborate with the market-leading fashion brand, Young Beaufort. But (Y/N) usually wished for just a simple way of life, without fame. All the children, who inherit their family’s legacy, are burdened by the weight of expectations and pressure.

To make things worse, it was a chilly afternoon when (Y/N)'s world shattered. She had been dating a boy from another school, a relationship that seemed promising but ended in betrayal and heartbreak. The boy had just played with her, and thrown away her without a second thought. (Y/N) was devastated and hurt.

Lydia was away on a school trip, leaving (Y/N) with her emotions alone. She wandered the campus aimlessly, eventually finding an isolated bench near the gardens, where she let the tears flow freely.

Unaware of (Y/N), James had noticed her distressed state from afar. He had been passing by when he saw her sitting alone, shoulders shaking with silent sobs. Concerned, he approached quietly, unsure of how to begin.

"(Y/N)," he said softly, startling them. "Are you okay?"

(Y/N) quickly wiped her tears, attempting to make herself presentable. "Oh, James. I'm fine. Just... having a rough day."

James sat down beside her, his expression gentle but insistent. "You don't look fine. What happened?"

The unexpected kindness in his voice broke through (Y/N)'s defences. She looked at him, eyes filled with pain, and sighed. "It's just... this guy I was dating. He turned out to be a jerk. He used me and then just... dumped me."

James's jaw tightened, a flash of anger in his eyes. "Who is he?"

"It doesn’t matter. He’s not from Maxton Hall." (Y/N) shrugged her shoulders.

When James heard the pain in her voice, he decided to deal with her now, and it will be enough later to get to know about that asshole. "I'm sorry, (Y/N). You didn't deserve that."

(Y/N) shook her head, feeling small and insignificant. "I should have seen it coming. I'm not exactly someone would notice."

James frowned, shifting closer. "That's not true. People notice you, (Y/N). I notice you."

(Y/N) looked at him in surprise. "You... notice me?" she said with irony.

James was confused, but nodded, his gaze sincere. "Of course I do." (Y/N)’s heart skipped a beat hearing those words. "You're important to Lydia, which makes you important to me. And beyond that, you're a great person. Anyone would be lucky to have you in their life."

The warmth in his words and the intensity of his gaze made (Y/N) feel a flicker of hope. She had always seen James as someone out of reach, but here he was, sitting beside her, offering comfort and understanding.

"Thank you, James," she whispered, feeling the weight of her sadness begins to lift. "It means a lot."

James smiled softly, his hand reaching out to gently squeeze hers. "I do care about you, (Y/N). And if that guy couldn't see how amazing you are, then he's the one who's missing out."

For a moment, they sat in comfortable silence, the cold air around them a sharp contrast to the warmth blossoming in (Y/N)'s heart. James's presence was a balm to their wounded soul, a reminder that she was not alone.

"Do you want to talk more about it?" James asked, his voice gentle. "Or maybe we can just sit here for a while. Whatever you need."

(Y/N) smiled, feeling a sense of gratitude and a newfound connection. "Sitting here is nice. Thank you, James," she said feeling his arms pull her into a hug.

As they sat together, (Y/N) realized that maybe, just maybe, she had been wrong about James’s emotions towards her. Perhaps he had been seeing her all along, and in this moment of weakness, she had realised that her feelings for her had not changed over the years.

The weeks following that emotional afternoon saw a gradual but significant shift in the dynamics between James and (Y/N). Where once their interactions were only about polite nods and casual greetings, now there were shared moments, conversations, and a growing sense of friendship.

James found himself looking forward to seeing (Y/N) more than he ever anticipated. Her presence was comforting, her laughter infectious, and her perspectives refreshing. He was drawn to (Y/N) in a way that was new and unexpected, and it unsettled him in the best possible way. He finally had to admit that he had lied to himself all the years when he said he didn’t care about (Y/N).

(Y/N) felt the change too. She was still close to Lydia, but now James seemed to seek her out independently. He'd join them for lunch, walk with them between classes, and even invite them to hang out with his friends, to where (Y/N) always refused to go and eventually Lydia accepted it. It was confusing but exhilarating.

One evening, while Lydia was busy with her extracurricular activities, James invited (Y/N) to study with him at a cosy coffee shop off-campus. They settled into a quiet corner, books and notebooks spread out before them.

"You know," James said, looking up from his notes, "I never realized how much fun studying could be until I started doing it with you."

(Y/N) laughed softly, their cheeks flushing. "I have never thought that once in my lifetime I will hear that from the mouth of James Beaufort, but I think you just enjoy the coffee and the company."

James smiled, but there was a depth to his gaze that made (Y/N) look away shyly. "You're right about that. But it's more than that. You're different, (Y/N). In a good way. You make everything better."

(Y/N) felt her heart skip a beat. The sincerity in his voice was undeniable. "Thanks. Spending time with you isn't that bad either."

As the weeks went on, James's feelings for (Y/N) deepened. He found himself thinking about her at odd times, daydreaming about their future conversations, and feeling jealous when he saw her with others. It was during one of these moments when he saw (Y/N) laughing with Cyril, that he realized the truth: he had fallen for (Y/N).

The next day, James asked (Y/N) to meet him in the gardens where they had first bonded. The air was cool, the sky painted with the hues of sunset.

"(Y/N)," James began, taking a deep breath. "There's something I need to tell you."

(Y/N) looked at him, concern flickering in their eyes. "What is it?"

"I've been thinking a lot, and I realized something important," he continued, his voice steady but his heart racing. "That day when you sat with me here, something changed for me. Spending time with you, getting to know you better... I've come to realize that I have feelings for you. Romantic feelings."

(Y/N) stared at him, her breath catching in their throat. "James, I... I-"

James stepped closer, his eyes locked on her. "You don't have to say anything right now. I just needed you to know how I feel. Whatever you decide, our friendship means a lot to me, and I don't want to lose that."

Tears welled up in (Y/N)'s eyes, but they were tears of happiness and relief. "James, I feel the same way. I've liked you for a long time, but I never thought you'd feel the same."

James's face broke into a radiant smile, and he reached out to gently hold (Y/N)'s face in his hands. With that, James leaned in, closing the distance between them. Their lips met in a soft, tender kiss, a perfect blend of nervous excitement and genuine affection.

As they pulled away, both of them breathless and smiling, James whispered, "I've wanted to do that for so long."

(Y/N) smiled back, her eyes shining with happiness. "Me too."

[happyhauntt]

famous last words — james potter

writing masterlist | askbox

─── summary: you and james are sworn enemies. you quite like it that way.

─── pairing: james potter x quidditch player!reader.

─── warnings: fluff, banter, swearing. if you're a reader of my cedric series oh, captain! then you might find this familiar, it's a reworked version of chapter three. this was so much fun honestly i love sassy stuff like this.

─── word count: 2.1k.

     BY THE TIME THE TRAIN WHISTLES ITS ARRIVAL AT HOGSMEADE STATION, all you really want to do is go to bed. The golden glow of warmth has suffused your bones completely, lulling you into a delightfully sleepy state. You're curled up against the window when your friend Beth jostles you awake and practically carries you off the train, where you are utterly unsurprised to learn that the weather is terrible.

     The downpour does a spectacular job at waking you up. Droplets of freezing rain slip past the collar of your shirt and down your spine before you manage to pull your cardigan up over your head. A disgruntled scowl tugs at your lips as you race ahead of Beth to get a space on one of the carriages. Once you are safely situated in the dry, you look out into the rain, expecting to see Beth scarpering up the platform right behind you. Instead, she's sauntering towards the carriage, a wide smirk on her face, happy and dry beneath one of the big black umbrellas Hagrid is handing out on the platform.

     You frown, folding your arms over your chest, feeling distinctly soggy. Beth climbs into the carriage, giggling as she sits down beside you. You merely stick your tongue out at her.

     "Hey," Beth says, folding the umbrella back up before raising her hands in defence, accidentally splashing you both with rainwater, "you're the one who ran away. Don't blame me for being more observant."

     "I reject that," you reply indignantly. Beth offers up a hair tie from her wrist and you take it, still scowling, to tie your damp hair into a messy ponytail. "I am absolutely observant. Just not... all the time." Which basically means where sports isn't involved. Teachers have noted in their reports that you're easily distracted in class, with a mind that tends to wander rather than focus on the task at hand. Your mother used to call it butterfly brain. Thoughts light as air, settling down on one flower for a few moments until a prettier, more interesting flower comes into view. She didn't mean to make you feel bad about that, but it doesn't help when all your teachers are saying the same thing.

     The prettier flower is usually Quidditch. With a muggle upbringing, you hadn't been exposed to the brilliance of magic until a mysterious letter appeared on your eleventh birthday (delivered, you recall, stern-faced woman in peculiar emerald robes. If you'd known then that Professor McGonagall's first impression of you would be a wide-eyed child whose front tooth had just been knocked loose by a rogue cricket bat, well, you probably would've died of embarrassment. Now she's your Head of House. And most unfortunately, that's not the only time she's seen you missing a few teeth.) When you got to Hogwarts and saw students playing Quidditch for the first time, whizzing like arrows through the air on actual broomsticks— You'd been in love with the sport ever since.

     Almost every corner of your brain is taken up by Quidditch. A hundred different game plans and plays running on repeat. So Beth is totally wrong; you are very observant., and you are never more observant than when your eye is on the prize.

     This time, though, the prize was shelter. Skittering off through the downpour to get to the carriage without properly checking your surroundings wasn't the smartest route, but it worked. Sort of.

     Your pride hurts a little bit.

     Beth's just about done laughing at you when a knock on the carriage exterior catches your attention. A familiar face appears at the door. "Is there any room in here?" James Potter's smile is crooked, and his dark hair is damp and floppy from the rain, water dripping from the strands into his face. Bright eyes dart back forth between you and Beth, and suddenly you remember that only almost every corner of your brain is occupied by Quidditch.

     There's a stubborn little spot right in the middle, little more than a speck, really — but it's filled with nothing else but James fucking Potter.

     "There was a mass exodus from the train as soon as it arrived," he continues as his glasses start to fog up, "and the only other carriage left is full of second-years."

     Oh, you feel that one in your soul. Second-years are okay, sometimes, but usually they're excitable, too ready for the start of another year at magic school, and thus only bearable in small doses. By third year, the excitement is all about getting to choose which classes you take, and you understand this to a degree (you chose Divination, which sounded cool at the time but was an absolute fucking mistake, because you might enjoy the spooky muggle stuff but predicting the deaths of all your friends is not fucking fun, no matter how good your end-of-year grade was for it ) but the novelty quickly wears off.

     You suppose that's why James has chosen to risk his life by sitting in a confined space with you, instead. The three of you are well-seasoned veterans of Hogwarts and its bullshit by this point and, as a result, are appropriate company.

     The fact that both of you are his teammates is probably a nice bonus, too.

     You, however, offer a merciless smirk. James Potter is, without doubt, your worst enemy, and it fills you up with glee to inconvenience him at any opportunity. "You snooze, you lose, Potter. Off to the second-years you go!" You even make a shooing motion, just for good measure.

     Beth smacks your arm and rolls her eyes, offering James a pleasant smile. "There's loads of room, ignore them," she says, and while you're busy dramatically rubbing your arm and muttering expletives, James takes a seat on the bench opposite you. Rain hammers against the roof, somehow louder than it was a moment ago, and a self-satisfied grin creeps onto his face as the carriage begins its journey to the castle.

     "Where are the rest of the merry morons, then?" You ask, quirking a brow at him. You're pretty sure you can count on one hand the number of times you've seen James without at least one of his comrades in mischief. Frankly, it's rarer than spotting a unicorn in the wild. You wonder if you should take a picture to commemorate the occasion.

     He looks sheepish as he pulls his glasses off to wipe away the condensation. "Lost a bet."

     He doesn't elaborate, and you don't care enough to ask him to. You've been at school with them long enough to know that, honestly, it's probably best not to know.

     Beth reaches out and plucks a stray leaf from your hair. She waves it in your face, tickling your nose gently before letting it flutter to the ground. You slip your hand into hers, linking your fingers together. Beth is soft and sweet when she wants to be, and you're certain there's not a soul in the world who knows you this well. She has wormed her way into your heart, and you'd have to carve it out of your chest to be rid of her now.

     "Does anyone know who our captain is yet?" You ask aloud, after a few seconds of silence have passed. You're tired enough to curl up on the floor of the carriage and fall asleep right then and there, lulled by its gentle rocking and pitter-patter of the rain, but you should probably be conversational. There's very little worse than awkward silence, especially with James sitting there, staring at you with that dopey half-smirk on his face.

     You want to smack him. You want him to think you're extraordinary. You're not quite sure how to cope with such emotional extremes, but there they are, coexisting at the front of your mind. They war with each other, an itch you can't scratch because if you, you'll keep going until there's blood.

     His, preferably.

     It's not even that you hate James. Not really. You used to, only a year or so ago, because he made it so easy. With his smug little smile and the skip in his step, with his quips and jokes and way his hair curls over his brow, you'd fucking despised him. He'd set himself up as your rival back in second year, when you made the Gryffindor team at the same time. With the blurred stretch of years between then and now, you can't remember quite how it began, or what he did precisely that sparked this eternal grudge, but what followed is years of goading one another, pushing and pushing and pushing to outdo one another.

     The rivalry has made you so much better than you ever could have dreamed. Quidditch is your life and honestly, without James Potter, you're not sure where you'd be with it. Still good, perhaps. But maybe not very nearly the best.

     (You'll die before you tell him that, though. Or he will. You're not that picky and he does seem to have a death wish.)

     The carriage jolts as one of the wheels dips into a pothole. The thought of skipping the feast entirely sneaking past Professor McGonagall to go straight to your dorm is a tempting prospect. You know Beth won't let you do it, because if she has to sit through Dumbledore's speech then she'll drag you down with her, but it might be worth a shot.

     The silence persists for a few more seconds, growing steadily more awkward. When no one responds to your question, you press on. "We should've heard by now, right? Team captains get picked in the summer, and we need a new one because Hilary graduated last year." Do you sound a little bit agitated by your teammates' lack of urgency? Yes. Just a touch. But the look on Beth's face is fucking suspicious, and James... Well. He looks like he'd rather die.

     You narrow your eyes. "What are you not telling me? Spit it out, the pair of you."

     James coughs once, raising a hand to cover his mouth as he does so. For once the typical arrogance is gone, washed away with the rain. He looks dreadfully uncomfortable, turning bright red as he bashfully says, "Well. Uh. I am, I suppose. The new captain, that is." He has the good sense to look frightened.

     You hope, suddenly, that his cough means he caught pneumonia or something. Nothing fatal, obviously, but just enough to put him out of commission for a little while. You don't really mean it (you're not quite as horrible as some people would like to think) because James is one of the best on the team. Sometimes, you'll begrudgingly admit that he's even the best on the team   ━   but only if you get to be second best, obviously.

     Which is why you're a little shocked, of course, but not surprised. Not surprised at all, because he is good. Even as you sit there, pondering the many ways you could kill him and make it look like an accident, you know he's good. Too fucking good.

     Which is why you say, "Tell me you're kidding."

     James furrows his brows. "I'm not kidding?"

     You can feel Beth's shoulders shaking beside you, trying desperately to smother her amused cackles. James' expression softens a little as he realises this is a joke, sort of, and he begins to grin.

     "No, really," you say, this time the hint of a smile forming on your own lips, "tell me you're kidding. I'm begrudgingly proud and all that, because it had to be one of us," you wave your free hand at him, you'll have the captaincy one day, "but also, like, tell me it's a joke."

     "Why?"

     "Because I'm genuinely considering pushing you out of this carriage."

     James shrugs his shoulders, as if to say 'yeah, that's fair.' He gets it, he really does. You love that someone gets it. "It's not a joke, I'm afraid. Better luck next time, though!" He says it in a jolly tone of voice, and oh, you hate him.

     That's the thing with the two of you. You're sworn enemies, right, but you make each other better. He tries harder because you light a fire under his arse and bloody hell, you're itching for a chance to burn him, and vice versa.

      So you smirk, now. Square your shoulders. You've baited him into a competition, and you are absolutely ready to deliver. "Famous last words, Potter. Famous last words."

[poetryandfluffycats]

OKAY. since reqs are open uhm would you write madara cucking kuro plz...

like literally fucking fem!reader getting fucked, kuro's clothed boner pressed to her cheek while he kinda js sits back in shock and doesn't know what to do while mama is fucking her rrroughhhh and is like "you like my cock that much? kuros right there you'll make him angry" and shit. idk DOES THIS MAKE SENSE but yeah 🫶🏻

-🍓anon

A/N: I GOT CARRIED AWAY WITH THE PLOT OMG SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG. I hope it's too ur liking I may have gone off the rails a little bit....

Pairing: Kuro Kiryu x fem!reader x Madara Mikejima

Content: Madaras into you, everyone and their dog knows that. Only problem is, you have a boyfriend.

Warnings: NSFW, dub-con, slut-shaming, oral sex(f receiving), cuckolding, dry humping, sexual harassment(?), mentions of cheating, established relationship with kuro, ooc madara(?), they're both ooc tbh💀, porn with plot

Words: 2.1k

NSFW oneshot under cut!

Have Him Watch?~

It was no secret that Madara had a thing for you. He had made his advances-both romantic and sexual alike-very obvious to you and everyone else, not even hesitating to flirt with you right in front of your own boyfriend, Kuro.

Kuro wasn't the type to let himself fall into petty jealousy, he knew you loved him and that nothing would never change that. Therefore, he hardly batted an eye whenever Madara made another stuipd comment about your body, or when his hands would linger for just a bit too long. It was better to simply ignore him and wait for Madara to get the hint. Kuro knew he was strong, but to pick a fight with Madara? Death wish.

So, he didn't aggravate him in any way, letting the bigger man do this thing until he realised he had no chance with you. Which is why he was confused when Madara cornered him in the gym one day, his teeth gleaming in his signature smirk.

"Kuro! My friend, my pal! Got a minute?" He beamed, slinging his arm around Kuros shoulders and pulling him in close, squeezing so hard you'd think he was trying to suffocate him.

"Uh, I'm a bit busy right now" Kuro pushed him off, dusting himself off and returning his attention to the weights he had been lifting. "Maybe later"

Madara smile didn't waver, if anything it only grew in size. Clearly, he had no interest in leaving anytime soon, not even when Kuro desperately wanted him too. Whatever Madara wanted from him, he didn't have the time for it. Not now, hopefully not ever.

"Ah, cmon! It'll only take a second!" He chirped, plopping down on the bench beside Kuro, crossing his legs and watching as the redhead started his reps. "Hey, working hard or hardly working, am I right? Hahaha~"

"Out with it, Mikejima" Kuro grunted, resisting the urge to smash his weights straight in the mans face. All he wanted was a peaceful workout, was that too much to ask for?

Madara laughed, waving his hand dismissively as if to clear the tension. "Always so blunt, I've always liked that about you y'know!" He grinned, resting his chin in the palm of his hand. "So, you and (name), huh? How serious have you gotten with her? Is it marriage?"

Now he was just starting to piss him off. How was this any of his business? Sure, you and Madara were friends, but where did he get off asking for details about your relationship?

"She's my girl, yeah" Kuro answered, praying that his short replies would deter him from the conversation. If that was even possible.

"Right, right. And just hypothetically, if she were to cheat on you, would you be mad?"

Kuro tighten his grip on the weights, his knuckles turning white at the strain. "What are you getting at? You trying to start something?" He said through gritted teeth, shooting a glare in the brunettes direction.

Madara chuckled, putting one hand up in defence and using the other to playfully slap Kuro on the shoulder-a gesture that he did not appreciate, might I add. "Woah! Easy, I don't wanna fight ya! I'm just curious. Hey, maybe you'd let her cheat on you, I don't know what you're into!"

Kuro dropped the weights, the metal making a loud 'clunk' sound as they hit the floor, causing the other members of the gym to look over and stare at the two. Not that he gave a damn, oh no. Not when this clown was making a scene. How dare he suggest you would have an affair? Was he out of his mind?

"What's wrong with you? Of course I'd be mad, what makes you think I'd be cool with that? Get lost man" He spat, shoving him aside as he rose to his feet. The blood rushing through his veins felt as if it was burning as he sped away, not wanting to spend another second with such a fool.

What even was that? Kuro had gotten used to Madaras teasing and loud personality. Hell, he'd even grown to enjoy it to an extent. But this was just insulting. Why was he even saying those things? Did he know something Kuro didn't? Had you....

No, that was silly. You would never be unfaithful, that just wasn't you at all. Yet here he was, images flooding his mind of you tangled in Madaras arms, both of your bodies sticky with sweat and cum as you screamed his name. It was disgusting.

But so, so hot.

Shit.

/-----

You and Madara were friends. It was normal for friends to hang out alone in each other's bedrooms, even if they were the opposite gender, right?

Yeah, of course it was fine! Who were you kidding, it was perfectly acceptable.

You two were good friends, the best of friends! So it was normal for him to hug you, to wrap his arms around your waist from behind and pull you closer. He was a touchy person, after all. It was totally okay for him to nuzzle into your neck and inhale the smell of your perfume, to pepper kisses all over your jawline, to grind his erection against your ass-

Wait a minute.

"H-hey! What are you doing?" You yelped, squirming around in his grasp in a feeble attempt to escape his hold. It didn't matter how close you were, there was no way you'd be comfortable with this!

"What's wrong?" He cooed, your wiggling only seeming to excite him further as he continued his humping. "Friends cuddle all the time! Or are we not friends anymore?"

"This isn't cuddling! This is-ah! This is, oh fuck! This is sexual harassment, you perverted fuck!" You cursed yourself for allowing your voice to crack, letting those dreaded moans spill out like you were some whore who enjoyed this. Which, of course, you didn't! You didn't like it, right? Dammit!

"Sexual harassment, huh? If that's what floats your boat" Madara chuckled, pushing his hands past the hem of your skirt, groping the soft flesh of your thighs.

You squirmed around, hitting at his chest and clawing at his arms. It was no use, damn him and his muscles! In this position all you could do was stand there and take it, because in all honesty, you knew that no amount of protesting would get him to stop. Even of you did get away, it wouldn't be for long, Madara was as stubborn as ever and you knew for a fact that he wasn't afraid to use force to get his way.

You just didn't realize that part of him would ever show itself to you.

"Kuro. Kuro will be home soon, and he'll-ah! He'll kick your ass!" You threatened, snapping your head around to glare at the man behind you. Using Kuro as a form of defence probably wasn't the best idea, but it was your last resort. Begging and trying to fight back certainly didn't work against Madara.

He just laughed. "Maybe we can have him watch"

"What do you-"

A sudden knock at the door cut you off, the familiar voice of your beloved boyfriend coming from behind it. "Uh, (name)? Do you have someone over? Why's the door shut? Can I come in?"

Oh fuck. No!

It suddenly dawned on you just how horrible this would look to Kuro, you pinned against another man with his hands up your skirt? Anyone would think you were a cheating whore! No matter how much you tried to explain the situation, it would still look the same. You had dug your own grave by even letting Madara come over!

Madara pressed his lips to your earlobe, nipping on the soft flesh and whispering lowly, "Do you want me to stop?"

Yes! No! Maybe?

God, why did it have to feel so fucking good?

"Babe? I'm coming in"

"Wait-ah-no! Don't-"

Too late.

The door swung open, the face of your wide-eyed and shocked boyfriend sending a wave of guilt down your spine. He looked at you, then Madara, then you again, his mouth opening and closing but no words coming out, only surprised mumbles and stutters.

You honestly couldn't tell if he was angry, sad, confused, aroused, maybe a mix of all three? And it didn't help that you were unaware of what emotions you should have been feeling either. Should you scream for help, or moan in pleasure? Push Madara away or pull him closer?

"Kuro... this isn't..." You started, trailing off when you glanced over the very obvious tent in the redheads jeans. Oh. Oh shit.

So he was aroused by this? What even was this? Some twisted form of roleplay? A fetish that the two men discussed that you didn't know about? Did Kuro actually like this, or was his body reacting subconsciously?

Either way, you didn't have much time to think about it before Madara picked you up from under your thighs and tossed you onto the bed like a ragdoll, wasting no time in climbing in between your thighs and nuzzling his nose into your panties.

"Mm~ You smell so good" He purred, the vibrations of his voice sending a wave of pleasure to your core, a gasp mixed with a whorey moan leaving your lips at the feeling.

The redhead in the doorway cleared his throat, footsteps echoing in the room as he made his way over to where you lay on the bed. He sat down beside you, a hand coming out to gently stroke your cheek. It was a soothing action. One that might have made your heart melt if there wasn't another man currently lapping at your panties like a starved dog.

"Is this okay? I'm sorry I didn't talk to you about it first.." He apologised, his face flushed pink and his lips turned upwards into a small smile. "Just tell me if your not enjoying it and I'll kick him out, alright? That's okay?"

You gulped, then nodded, bringing your own hand up to hold his as you squirmed around on the mattress, your mind slowly but surely becoming goo at the pleasure spreading through your veins.

"Ah!- I don't know"- Madara looked up at you with those big brown eyes, choosing that moment to flatten his tongue against your clothed clit, making a show of slurping and smacking his lips together -"f-fuck yes! Oh god, please!"

With consent finally granted, Madara hooked his fingers under the waistband of your panties, pulling them down in a second and diving straight into the heat of your pussy. He flicked his tongue up and down, side to side, round in circles and everywhere he could possibly reach inside of you.

Anything to make you scream his name, and scream his name you did. You threw your head to the side, falling into Kuros lap, as he brushed over that one spot, a spot that not even Kuro had reached before.

"Shit! Right there! Ah-ha~ Madara" You cried out, wrapping your legs around his head in a death grip, shoving his tongue even further inside you. "So good!"

He pulled his tounge out of your wet hole, opting to swirl and flick it over your clit. You withered and squirmed around on the bed, griping onto the sheets as hard as possible. The knot in your lower belly was starting to build, and both Madara and Kuro could tell. Your whole body felt as if it was on fire under Madaras touch, every inch of your body begging for release.

It just felt so good. So, so, so good-

"Ah-gonna cum!"

Your orgasm washed over you like a wave, toes curling and eyes rolling to the back of your head. Your lips parted and you were panting so heavy you barely had enough breath left in your lungs to moan or even scream. Juices splattered all over the face of the man in between your legs, dripping down his chin as he drank it up like it was the finest wine in the world.

Madara pulled away from your swollen cunt, climbing up onto the bed and hovering above you, leaning down to capture your lips in a quick kiss.

"Aren't you a little slut, huh? Getting off on my tongue while your boyfriend watched? You came so quickly, does he not treat you right?" He cooed, brushing a strand of hair away from your eyes.

Kuro, who had been dead quiet the whole time, finally spoke up. "You didn't have to be so rough with her" He grumbled, stroking the top of your head.

Madara huffed, a grin tugging at his lips. "She loves it! Don't you know what your own girlfriend likes?" He rolled his eyes before returning his attention back to your blissed-out form. "Ready for more, sweetheart?"

[hwhimsypc]

girls love musicians

Marlene McKinnon/Dorcas Meadowes

Note: I have actually loved them as a ship for a very long time, this is just the first time I'm actually writing them. though i spent very little time on this compared to my other fics, I am actually very satisfied with how it turned out. first time in a long time the words have just flown out of me. hope you enjoy!

(also on Ao3 here.)

Summary: Marlene likes getting drunk, playing the bass and hanging out with her friends. Oh, and she also has a huge crush on the infamous quidditch player, Dorcas Meadowes.

Word count: 2604

Now, it was perhaps - and only perhaps - maybe Marlene’s own fault. But that was putting it on thick, anyway. 

She had been drunk, as eighteen year old people do sometimes. So really, it's not exactly her fault - it's drunk hers fault. and drunk her is a completely different person, and Marlene doesn’t associate with her at all. 

“Or maybe, it's the true version of you,” a mysterious and wondering voice sounds beside her. 

“Shut the fuck up, Sirius.”

The man mock innocently puts his hands up in defence. Marlene hates him. 

College parties sucks, that is no secret. It mainly consists of stoners getting high in the sofa or the bathroom, people only looking for a cheap shag and drunk athletes who thinks they are invincible. It gets old pretty quickly. 

But at this one, everyone, no matter their house, were in good spirits. They were drinking and dancing and smiling, the dimly lit room making it seem like her and Sirius were stepping into another world. 

Marlene was just about to go be one of them before spotting someone in the distance. And this wasn’t just anyone. This was the girl who was so good at quidditch it was unfair, infamously known over the whole school as the best. She made sure slytherin won almost every game against gryffindor, barely by a hair’s breadth some of the time. And that only made her more frustrating. This was the girl who seemed to be good at everything - somehow always knowing the answer to every question no matter the class, and even if she seemed like she hadn’t been paying attention. 

It was also the girl Marlene had a massive crush on. 

“Holy shit,” she says, as every girl does when they see a pretty girl. 

“What is it?” Sirius slurs, tripping on his feet and itching to get inside, not in the mood for Marlene’s fairly pathetic gay panic. 

“It's her.”

Marlene can practically feel him roll his eyes as he follows her gaze. But when he sees who it is, he instantly mirrors Marlene’s reaction. 

“Holy shit,” he says. 

“I know.”

Dorcas is dancing with some Ravenclaw girls, looking carefree and just like she belongs there. Marlene could never look that good on a dancefloor. Aside from sweating profusely and getting red in the face when she drinks alcohol, she just has no sense of rhythm. At all. 

Dorcas had gotten a lip piercing - and had she stretched her septum piercing over the summer? - now that she isn't in her school uniform, she is wearing an all black lace top and a long skirt. Silver rings cover every single one of her fingers, as she raises her hands over her head. Holy shit, Marlene was shutting down. 

“Shots,” Sirius shouts in her ear and she glares at him for the disturbance. 

While they had pregamed before they got here, Marlene is going to need some liquid luck. The alcoholic kind. 

Shots had been a bad idea. For both Marlene and Sirius. But then again, who were they if they didn’t live out every bad idea any person could think of, ever. 

Sirius had held her hair for all of twelve seconds before throwing up in the sink himself. 

“Thanks a lot,” Marlene mutters sourly.

“You know the smell makes me sick!”

feeling immensely better, she flushes the toilet and leans against the wall on the floor. 

“You're a true warrior, you are,” she says, with as much sarcasm as she can muster up. 

Sirius just laughs, throat still sounding a little rough. 

“I know. So, have you snogged Dorcas yet?”

Marlene groans. “I'm getting there.”

“But she's,” and he actually finger quotes her, the fucker, “so pretty youre intimidated and scared to make a move?”

“Bugger off.”

He falls down on the floor beside her, hair tangly and face a little sweaty. He pulls out a pack of muggle cigarettes and passes one to Marlene. 

“Cheers,” she mutters, taking it gratefully. 

“Now, this is not the Marlene I know,” he says after a long drag, smoke engulfing the room slowly. “The Marlene I know is confident, flirty, and not scared of rejection.” 

“But everyone else is not Dorcas!” 

“So you're a scaredy cat?”

she glares at him. 

“Just tell her you play the bass and want to play her a number. Girls love musicians,” he wiggles his eyebrows. 

“Sirius, you're gay.”

“I've had girlfriends before! Trust me,” he looks incredibly smug in the way only Sirius Black can manage, and Marlene hates him. “Works every time.”

Marlene is about to bite a sarcastic remark back, when a voice sounds from outside the door. 

“Please tell me you're not shagging in there.”

Marlene’s eyes widen and she almost chokes on her cigarette, giving Sirius an alarmed look. 

“It's her,” she whispers in panicked disbelief. 

Sirius looks as panicked as she feels, and that's the thing about having been best friends for so long, it's almost like they're connected. 

“Quick!” Sirius hisses, immediately getting to work and quickly wetting some toilet paper to wipe the residue mascara under her eyes while she frantically tries to make her hair look somewhat representable. Luckily, she didn't barf all over herself like during that festival in the summer right before she was seeing one of her muggle friend’s bands. 

After the most stressful thirty seconds of Marlene’s life, they open the door to Dorcas, who is standing there with a raised brow. Marlene smiles awkwardly at her, hands finding the pockets of her leather jacket so she can try to look somewhat normal. 

“Hey,” she says, Sirius has somehow already left and Marlene is so going to hit him the next time she sees him. 

“Hi,” Dorcas says, and Marlene has already run out of words, desperately scouting her brain for just something. 

Dorcas, however, gets to it first. “I thought Sirius was with Remus?”

Marlene shrugs, surprised and confused at the question. Her heart beats loudly in her chest.

“He is.”

Dorcas scoffs. “Wow, you really are an asshole.”

And then Marlene’s slow, dumb brain connects the dots and she is frantically trying to stop Dorcas from entering the bathroom so she can explain herself. 

“We drank too much, I practically threw everything I've ever eaten up. Sirius was just there for support, well until he threw up himself,” she laughs and it sounds a little hysterical to her own ears, “He's the gayest person I know,” she barely breathes before she adds, “and so am I, just so you know.”

She stops before she can say more stupid shit and embarrass herself even more. 

“Cool,” Dorcas says slowly, but Marlene swears she can see the ghost of a smile on her lips. “Can I do my business here now?”

Marlene’s eyes widen and she wants to hit herself instead of Sirius now. A pretty common occurrence. 

“Of course! I'll-” she points to the hallway, and Dorcas nods. Marlene immediately takes off to find Sirius and steal his fags and get him to play beer pong with her. 

“Heard what happened with your girlfriend.”

Marlene is the most hungover she's probably ever been, and she swears she'll never drink alcohol again. (That promise will probably last all up until next weekend.)

“Go stick it, Potter,” She mumbles into her glass of water. Somehow, none of them seemed as hungover as her (aside from Sirius) and somehow, they had all decided that Marlene’s room was the perfect place for an early Sunday morning get together. Yay. 

“We're still on for tonight, yeah?”

“For what?” Marlene asks sourly, not even able to comprehend the next ten minutes. 

“Our performance, obviously!” James exclaims, “you didn't forget, did you?”

Marlene looks at all of their sad, expectant faces. “No.”

“Good,” he says, “Cause it is going to be the best concert ever. Sirius and I here, are going to make sure that you Snog Dorcas Meadowes.”

She groans and throws a pillow at him. 

To say that their band sucked might be a bit too much. but they were definitely not good, to say the least. 

But they had fun, and it was entertaining to see the faces on some of the purebloods that sometimes showed up, and it was beyond Marlene how foreign music was to them, as someone who grew up with it, her dad teaching her how to sing and play various instruments, as a local known musician in their hometown. 

They did covers on muggle songs and performed them under the nose of the teachers, sometimes in the safer parts of the woods during the summer and sometimes in one of the infinite rooms in the school. Marlene was sure not even the teachers knew the whole place. But Marlene and her friends did, because they had way too much time on their hands (blowing off homework and skipping class) and they were adventurous, to put it mildly. 

And today they were doing a cover of The Chain by Fleetwood Mac as the main event, naturally. and Marlene was scared shitless. While it was only a short, fairly easy bass solo, she usually never got solos and was therefore never as much the centre of attention as Remus, who sang, or James, who rocked on his guitar to hell and back every time they were onstage. 

“You ready?” Sirius asks. He was on drums, and usually, Marlene would be in the back with him. But James, the mastermind that he is, had naturally decided that she should be further up front today. Marlene hates him. 

“I guess,” she says, nervously lighting a cigarette. She is wearing her usual stage makeup, harsh black eyeliner in her waterline and a heavy layer of mascara. Her genius outfit consists of her combat boots and faded jeans, with a Fleetwood Mac shirt she had stolen from a muggle store. Looking like this helped her feel a lot more confident. 

“You're going to kill it.”

“I'm going to kill you if you don't stop treating me like a twelve year old.”

Ok, that was a bit mean, Sirius was just being supportive, after all. But she was so nervous, and it was only getting worse by the second. 

Finally after what felt like eight years, they were moving on stage. The little room was filled to the brim, most of them James’ and Sirius’ friends, therefore most of them were gryffindors and hufflepuffs. 

They start to play, and Marlene goes right through all of the first songs on autopilot, jamming with James and slowly easing into being on stage again. The fright was always the worst just before she went up, and gradually fell to the back of her mind as the feeling of wanting to play well and looking out for her bandmates took over. Marlene actually loved to play in front of an audience, she just had to get over her doubts sometimes. 

As James starts to play the first few notes of The Chain, Marlene soon in tow, she spots those dark, curious eyes in the crowd. her heart leaps, and she barely avoids messing a note up. 

She takes a deep breath. 

So Dorcas is here. 

As the only slytherin, probably, and now that Marlene has noticed her, she can't take her eyes off of her. Dorcas looks beautiful, mythical in the dim light of the room, braids pulled back in a loose ponytail and in her usual slytherin cloak, that fits her like it was made solely for her. people seem to keep a bit of a distance to her, and Marlene guesses they're a little intimidated. 

Dorcas doesn't lose her gaze, barely blinks, and Marlene gets confident enough in the moment to throw her the most flirtatious smirk she's probably ever mustered up, and to top it off, she even winks.

She doesn't see Dorcas’ reaction to it, as she finally looks away to turn against Sirius, as her solo starts, who is already looking at her with a big smile. 

It is easily the best she's played since their band started. 

They obviously decide to celebrate afterwards, and Marlene decides she's going to dial down on the fire whiskey today. 

they're all in good spirits, it was a brilliant performance, after all, but Marlene is a bit anxious, scanning the room in anticipation for dark eyes and facial piercings. She wants to grab Dorcas by the shoulders and kiss her silly until they lose their breath, now more than ever, the rush of a good performance and her friends complimenting her giving her life. 

At the end, though, people slowly start to trickle out of the room, one by one. It is after all still a school day tomorrow, so people won’t party until the sun comes up. Most of them actually care about doing well, and on top of that have a much better sleep schedule than Marlene and her friend group. Dorcas still hasn’t shown. 

Marlene tries not to be disappointed, she's had a great night after all. But it still somehow maneuvers its way past the smoke, whiskey and laughter, sly like a snake. 

Marlene goes to the common rooms alone, tired and a bit chilly, makeup a mess and she's probably smelling faintly like sweat. 

“You're Marlene, right?”

Marlene stops in her tracks. There, in all her confident slytherin glory, is Dorcas. She hadn’t realised it the other day, but Dorcas has a few centimetres on her. Marlene has to embarrassingly tilt her head a bit to meet her eyes. 

“Uh, yeah,” she gets out dumbly after a few seconds, “we have potions together.”

Dorcas hums, “and you're a seeker. One of the best I've seen.”

Marlene absolutely does not blush. 

“Thanks.”

“I saw you play the bass earlier, by the way. You're talented.”

Marlene laughs, quickly becoming comfortable in Dorcas presence. She has a feeling they could become very good friends, best friends even. Marlene could keep her feelings hidden for years until she somehow got over her crush. And in the quieter moments of the night when they were drunk or studying, she could pretend for a split second that they were something more. And she could lie and tell Dorcas that all she’s ever felt for her was platonic. 

“I kind of wanted to make out with you.”

Or perhaps not. 

“We totally can,” Marlene says immediately, way too eager, all thoughts of friendship and yearning instantly forgotten. “If you want to still?”

Dorcas answers by pulling her close, their lips gently colliding. They barely know each other but Dorcas kisses confidently, hands cupping Marlene’s face. Marlene Instinctively puts an arm around her to pull her closer, a soft sigh escaping her lips in the process. Dorcas smells sweet and fresh and Marlene can feel her smirk against the kiss and she wants to do inappropriate things to her. 

The kiss is both savoury and a little heated, and despite its shortness, it makes Marlene feel dizzy. She wants all that Dorcas is willing to give her. 

Dorcas pulls back and that smirk is in full view now, intensely directed at Marlene, making her feel hot all over, weak in the knees. Dorcas’ eyes fall to her lips again, and she can't resist giving Marlene one last, quick kiss. 

“I'll see you in potions tomorrow.”

Marlene stares after her dumbly for a long few seconds before breaking into laughter in disbelief. It was barely anything, but Marlene has a burning feeling Dorcas is going to show her just how making out is with her the next time they’re alone. 

Maybe Sirius was right. Perhaps girls do love musicians. 

[laneynoir]

Oooo can you do “Come here, we need to talk.” For Aragorn? I feel like this would be interesting-

So, turns out I did NOT post this two days ago like I thought I did... Oops. You can blame @sotwk and @a-burr-a-hobbit for accidentaly drawing my attention to that :P

Jordan, thank you so much for the request!

Word count: 2122

The nobles have a grudge agaisnt you, an irrational one, born from inset jealously and a belief that you do not belong. And you constantly find yourself antagonized by jabs, mostly verbal but some... Not so.

Hence your current state.

Really, you'd think that if one were to attempt an assasination, one could at the very least hire a competent assassin.

The orcs had come closer than these people.

Still, you had been shot with the dart, and the slash from the knife has yet to stop bleeding, so you push yourself up from the floor and limp tword the medical wing.

You had just turned the corner when you come face to face with a guard, who quickly dons an expression of suprise at your bloodied figure. Forgoing any words he may have spoken, you wave your hand.

"I am perfectly alright soldier. However there is a group of assassins tied together with some draperys in that hallway, they should still be unconcouss." You pause a moment. "Although one is almost definently dead and another is bleeding quite profusely. And you may want to get someone to mop up the blood before it dries into the floor."

You pat his shoulder before limping on -because although you know you haven't broken it, you've done something to your ankle- and make a sound of thanks to his promise to take care of it.

When you finally make it to the familiar pristine hall of healing, you can tell by the look on the maids face that you look a fright.

You are soon rushed to a seat on one of the beds as your favourite healer is brought to your side.

"Gracious me, they did a number on you this time didn't they?" Vera eyes the slash wound critically before grabbing a length of bandage and a few suspisous smelling jars.

You smile at her worry and shrug, immediately regretting such. "Tis not really so bad as it looks, I am only suprised that they would dare carry out an attack within the palace wall-OI"

Vera makes a small 'hmf' sound at your exclamation of pain. "I thought it was 'not so bad'? Are you going to tell the King?"

You sigh heavily. "I imagine Aragorn will learn of it it one way or another, though not, I think, from me."

At that Vera ceases her movements. "And just why not? That man -king- would tear down the castle of Rohan for you!"

The deadpan stare you give her is droll enough to chase off an orc but she doesn't flinch. "Because my dear Vera, I know very well how protective of his friends our King can be. And I would not dare put it past him to throw all of the nobles in a cell."

Vera gives you a look, that plainly lets you know that she knows there's more too it.

"And" you begin quietly "I think I am afraid that he wouldn't do anything. I hardly see him anymore and I fear I've lost his friendship."

The expression on her face melts instantly. "Oh y/n..." She pulls you into a hug, but jerks back when you release a yelp. "What-" her eyes widen "What's this then?"

She's quickly tearing away the sleeve of your tunic and gasps at whatever she finds on your shoulder. "What? What's what?"

Instantly she becomes a flurry of movement. "You- didn't tell me you'd been shot with a poisoned dart!"

She begins dabbing around the area, causing you to let a hiss out from betwixt your teeth. "In defence of myself, I was unaware of the poison."

~

Unbeknownst to both you and Vera, the problem of telling Aragorn, called Estel, would not come to pass. For already is he informed and strides with long pace beside Boromir.

Boromir who, though he shows no sign of it, is quite worried. In many battles he has fought with his now king, but never has he seen this expression on his face.

The king of Gondor looks murderous.

Aragorn has always carried a ruged yet regal aura, somewhat intimidating, one that makes all around him willing to follow, to obey, and to trust.

The air of such is still present, but also is an undercurrent of threat. And though he will never speak of it, Boromir is afraid.

It is an irrational fear, as he is certainly not the one whom ordered the attack on you, and yet he cannot chase the discomfort away.

The guards infront of the cell jolt at the appearance of their King and Captain, bowing stiffly they open the doors at Aragorn's commanding motion.

Inside is a pitifully ragtag group of four men and one woman. One of the men has his shirt compleatly removed and a thick bandage wrapped around his chest, the rest sport less cotton but look no less miserable.

At the sight of Aragorn they all jerk to sitting positions, each with differant levels of pain. "Oh King, to what do we owe the pleasure?"

The look Aragorn gives the red haired man is eerily similar to the one he'd given the mouth of Sauron, and that hadn't exactly gone well for him.

Cutting past any pleasantries, Aragorn stares at the man. "You are the leader?" At his tentive nod Aragorn inclines his head. "Come here, we need to talk. What is your name, and why have you come into my city with ill intent?"

The man's demeanour remains flippant as he introduces himself as 'Traydor' however this is not Boromir's first, nor is Aragorn an unobservant man, and they both note the sweat on Traydor's forehead and the slight tremor of his hand.

"To my first query you have given answer," Aragorn speaks, in a tone so cold that the man with the bandaged chest shivers. "And yet my second goes unanswered."

"I should think our intent was obvious, King Aragorn."

Boromir takes a step back as the sword of Elendil flashes through the air and lands against the throat of Traydor, who's eyes widen. "It is not in my nature to make empty threats, so I give to you one more chance; explain in full why you have entered my halls and put in danger one who holds my favour."

In the momentary silence, Boromir has the fleeting thought that Aragorn would probably not be holding a sword to the neck of a prisoner had it been him who'd been threatened, but then, he reasons, Boromir would rather remain a Spector of the long looks Aragorn sent to you, and not the recipient.

The silence dissolves with the broken tone of the man on the cott. "Traydor please. Dont let your pride take you from me?"

Traydor swallows agaist the unwavering blade agaist his person. "Fine! I will speak, but only because my husband pleads." He sends an anoyed, yet endearing, glance at mentioned man as Aragorn removes the blade from his neck.

"Then do so quickly, none of us wish for this meeting to be longer than it has to be." Aragon nods in agreement with Boromir's words and the redhead begins,

"As I pointed out, it us quite obvious that we were sent to end the life of lieutenant Y/n, in no specific way, and were offered a large sum to do so. 'Twas not until yestermorn that we learned of the past failed attempts on the Lory's life, and in haste we enlisted another's help, the man whom was slain.

"It was a risky endeavor the whole way through, for we were told that in halls of the palace our quary would be off guard, not so as we found, and were all desposed of and bound. I must say though, our hired hand managed a shot with his poison dart...?"

At this point he lookes to the least injured man who grimaced. "Plant called Eldarsbane."

Aragorn showes no outward sign of worry, but his breath catches and Boromir beguns to worry. "The name of that who hired you, give me this and you will keep your lives."

Traydor shrugs. "Fair, his name was Derind. Didn't like the fellow but I've lives I'm repsonsable for." At this his eye twitched and dismay coats his face. "Had I supose I should say."

Aragorn cannot find it within himself to pity the man, but turns to Boromir. "I must attend to Y/n, I trust you will deal with Lord Derind?" He barely acknowledges Boromir's nod before turning and disappearing diwn the hall.

"That was exciting"

Boromir son of Denthor, steward of Gondor, cannot disagree with the small man chrouched on the floor.

~

Aragorn has never regretted his Royal lineage more than in moments like this, when it is decidedly suspicious to run through the halls of the palace. He waves away concerned guard on this way to the halls of healing, praying to the Valar that you were there.

Someone must have heard his plees as he turn the last corner he hears the words: "In defence of myself, I was unaware of the poison."

You jolt up at his appearance, "Aragorn!" And if you watch a bit to closely at the fluid movement with which he sheds his cloak, that is no one's business but your own.

And perhaps Vera's, as she smirks knowingly. "What have you treated her with, Lady Vera?"

And so she rattles off a list of terms that only make slight sense to you, but he understands compleatly. When Aragorn mentions something of a 'Eldarsbane' Vera freezes, but quickly launches into movment at the request for some plant called prickelbear.

After she's hurried off in the direction of the gardens, you become far to aware of Aragorn's close proximity and in an attempt to distract yourself you joke; "How long until I die my King?"

He stills from his ministrations at your shoulder and your eyes widen. Turning, you look at him mouth agape. "I'm actually dieing? Mahal's hairy Balls of course I am. Will it be slow and painful-"

"Y/n, I will not allow you to die." The steel in his voice sends a jolt of alarm through you.

"And here I thought the plant was in charge of that." The jest is painfully halfhearted, and you shift your eyes always from Aragorn's. His reaction is to reach with a gentle hand and turn your face back to his.

"I say again," he says, voice as soft as the elves who raised him. "I will not allow you to die."

You fight the urge to rest against his hand -a battle not entirely successful- and find yourself in an odd state between releaved and dissapointed when he moves to trace the line of your jaw.

"How many times has this happned, y/n?" At your confusion he raises an eyebrow. "How many times has it escaped my notice and attention that the one I care for has been targeted for slaughter?"

Your mind is in a jumble, but you manage to tell him of the five previous attempts, by the end his elegantly grave features have hardened, before softening as he sets his forehead against your own. 

You can feel the blood rush to your face, but still feel odly at peace, especially for someone who is dieing.

But then, near death has always pit things in perspective; as such the fact that occasionally indulging is no crime, an hour can produce more than a day, and you've fallen madly in love with the king of Gondor.

Oh dear.

Vera returns with an odd shaped green and purple plant with spiked leaves, fifteen minutes later, you've a thick bandage with an ill-smelling paste beneath it. Aragorn proclaims that you will live and the joy and relief in his eyes shows so plaibly that you notice, and take the chanve at pulling him in for a hug.

While pressed against you he whispers in your ear. "Y/n, I do belive I've fallen in love"

"With whom my King?" You ask barely daring to fraw a breath.

"The most talented and loyal person to walk the halls of Gondor." He replies pulling away to look at you.

You smirk, "Falling for one's self is hardly becoming of a King."

Aragorn presses near to your lips, just a tilt of your head and you could claim the King. "Will you allow me to court you, to worship and follow you, to speak your counsel above all else, and shower you with the love you so deserve?"

A soft 'yes' escapes you, before you know no more, other than the lips pressed against the other, and the healing hands of your king tangle in your hair.

(I am fully aware of how bad this is, plz don't hit me)

[loudblonde]

Simon "Ghost" Riley X Male!Reader Mafia AU (Chapter eleven)

Summary: (Y/N) and Simon gets a quiet morning in after receiving news of another safe house being made ready for them, this one away from König. Though during breakfast (Y/N) suggests a spare match against the two rivals, the winner gets whatever he wants. Tensions get high as their demands are made.

warnings:  Just a very fair warning, this chapter will involve writing about very obsessive behaviour. It discusses using others like toys and essentially just objectifies Simon in (Y/N)'s mind. So if you can't read that for any reason, don't worry. I have other more fluffy one-shots.

word count: 1,5K

(Y/N) awoke early the next morning to find Simon awake before him. He smiled and gently snuggled into the other's chest, grabbing onto him almost possessively. “(Nickname), your phone has been going off all morning,” Simon whispered in his ears. It sent shivers down his spine that were easily suppressed.

(Y/N) simply replied with a groan before sitting up. He grabbed his phone and glanced at the non-familiar number before shrugging and calling it.

‘Good you are awake. You have requested a level 2 safety cabin, yes?’ The person on the other end asked through a heavily modulated voice filter, (Y/N) didn’t doubt he had one on as well, either his own or through the booking company he was ordering from.

“Yes, it is needed hastily and away from any one thing. I don’t like surprise visitors.” (Y/N) replied, rubbing the back of his neck. He felt Simon’s eyes on him.

‘That can be done, it will take a week, do you have any preference?’ The voice asked.

(Y/N) hummed a bit. “No local entertainment, mountains are okay but not needed, no need for added defence, we have ways of our own… Europe but not the UK.” He said and tapped his lip a bit. “That would be all.”

‘We will contact you with an address over the safety lines in 4 days.’ The call abruptly ended as (Y/N) put the phone down.

“Making friends?” Simon asked as (Y/N) stood up. He didn’t leave the bed as (Y/N) did.

“Yeah, just securing a place for us that isn’t here. Being with König, while he is a good friend, is not permanent.” He said before picking up some clothes to wear. Simple jeans and a shirt. He turned back around and looked at Simon. The way the cover fell off his hips, perfectly framing his torso and with the dim light from the old overhead light.

(Y/N) walked over and sat on the little bit of bed available beside Simon. He reached over and gently brushed some of the hair away from his face. “I think the longer hair suits you.” He said.

Simon sat up as he ran a hand through his hair. “I have never really allowed it time to grow, there hasn’t been any reason for it.”

“Well, I think it would suit you, just a bit.” (Y/N) said softly. “We most likely have another week here before we go, would you be okay with that?”

Simon looked away and thought to König. The man was tall, awkward and gangly, but he wasn’t a threat. If allowed, Simon had no doubt that König would be on his knees worshipping (Y/N). A sentiment that Simon understood very well. Though having to share the attention he had come to crave more than air itself… it wasn’t something he was overly comfortable with. Though Simon looked back to (Y/N) and nodded.

(Y/N) smiled and stood up. “Thank you.” He said before tilting his head, fully catching onto Simon’s thoughts, the man's face betrayed his emotions and desires. (Y/N) carefully tilted the man's face up, his thumb brushed across his bottom lip for a second. “Simon, you shouldn’t worry about anyone, you will always have my full attention.” He said before leaning down. (Y/N) hesitated before placing a kiss at the corner of Simon’s mouth. He pulled away, smiled and left the room.

Simon was left with more emotions than he could process as he watched the door close. He touched where he had been kissed and smiled widely before schooling his face.

(Y/N) on the other hand, was busy boiling water for tea and making something to eat. Fresh buns were already sitting on a cooling rack, they looked a bit burnt but a note from König said he went hunting for some meat and to keep the fort running while he was away.

(Y/N) carefully removed the bacon and added them to a plate before frying more of it. He knew both Simon and König enjoyed it, even if he didn’t eat it. He stirred the pot of baked beans as it slowly heated up and gently poked the fried eggs to make sure they didn’t burn into the pan. A simple but delicious breakfast.

When Simon came down, (Y/N) felt hesitant arms wrap around him. He smiled and leaned back against Simon without a single word. He just enjoyed the sense of normality. Their lives were filled with nothing but bloodshed and toxicity. (Y/N) thrived in that environment though it had become clear that Simon didn’t. Had anyone asked what (Y/N) would have done about that weakness before he had met Simon, he would probably have told them to kill the weakness, it would bring nothing but trouble, so taking it out and replacing it was more or less the best and only option in his mind. But now… well (Y/N) most certainly didn’t love Simon. As a matter of fact, (Y/N) wasn’t even sure he could love anyone. But Simon was… nice. Nicer than most, so nice in fact that maybe when his father was gone, (Y/N) would make Simon his and only his. A simple toy to keep around. Simon was a very capable man but the idea of reducing him to nothing but a begging and whimpering- “The eggs are burning.” Simon mumbled against his ear. (Y/N) sighed and placed the eggs on a plate.

“I never claimed to be a good chef.” (Y/N) muttered back. Simon sliced some buns, buttered them and poured the beans over them. He took two of their plates over to the table while (Y/N) put a metal dome over the one left on the kitchen table. They ate in relative silence, neither needing to speak this early.

König came down with 3 birds of some kind and processed them in a separate room before coming to them and joining them at the table, he ate some of his food before (Y/N) broke the silence. “We should all train, and fight together. I don’t know the last time you fought with anyone, König, but I know you are one hell of a fighter and…” His eyes looked at Simon, travelling up and down with the ease of someone looking at a possession, “I know from personal experience that Simon is a very good fighter.” He said and looked at König. “Are you interested?”

König tilted his head and looked at Simon. “I am game unless he isn’t.”

Simon glared at König. “I am ready. Even with my wrist, I could take you down.”

König leaned forward and smirked. “Well, rules?”

“No killing, no using actual weapons… cheap tricks are permitted and encouraged.” (Y/N) said.

“And what does the winner get?” Simon asked, not taking his eyes off König.

“Well, boys, what do you want?” (Y/N) leaned back, a smirk playing on his lips.

“A night with you, in all its glory.” König, who was still very intent on having direct eye contact with Simon, said, He didn’t miss the way Simon’s eyes narrowed.

“And you, my dear Simon?” (Y/N) asked as he turned to Simon. “What would you want?”

Simon looked away from König, his eyes rested on (Y/N). “I won’t ask for something I already have, but I will be bold and ask for your exclusive attention until my death.” When they first met, Simon had gotten too close too quickly, a part of him that hoped (Y/N) would never use him was screaming at Simon for ignoring very obvious red flags, but Simon wasn’t listening to that part of him. He wanted (Y/N) no matter what, even if that meant sacrificing what little self-preservation and dignity he had left. He wanted (Y/N)’s full attention on him, always and forever. Simon knew there was a chance to just get thrown away as soon as (Y/N) was bored but he wanted nothing more than to follow every broken whim of (Y/N).

(Y/N) smirked as he leaned forward a bit. “Well, how about that, a very bold demand for winning one fight.” He said. (Y/N) loved the boldness of it. He even enjoyed it in a sadistic way. Simon had actually asked for something so far above his pay grade and so unachievable for his position as a guard dog, no a human meat shield. Designed to be riddled with bullets to save (Y/N)’s life in case of anything. Simon wasn’t supposed to matter and yet he so boldly asked for attention. (Y/N) liked that, he liked it a lot. Simon would entirely just depend on him. (Y/N) wasn’t going to let that go. He did actually want Simon as his only. “I accept both of your terms. If König wins, he will spend a night getting fucked senseless and if you, Simon, win… You will have my exclusive and undivided attention whenever work doesn’t call for us to be professional. I will even protect you from my father's wrath once this is all over.”

Simon’s breath hitched slightly. He hadn’t even considered what would happen once they returned. He knew Price was going to have him punished in some way; he just hoped that whatever words (Y/N) could say would lessen the disfiguration that he was going to face. He was already monstrous looking, he didn’t want to look worse, he didn’t want (Y/N) to hate him more. “Thank you.”

“But only if you win.”

tag list

@one-green-frog @rasberry-jupiter

[nyxivy]

Dude your boorman fic fed my ❤ I loved it soooooooo much. If you ever do another one you should definitely do one in the Nockmaar castle. If not a graydon one where he's possessed and talking to Y/N like he did with elora which I think was episode 4. They're just sooooo fine.

thank you so much!! <3 There are defo more boorman fics brewing but i just loved the graydon idea so much i just had to!! as always its a gender neutral reader, the reader's a bit angry in this one but i don't think they actually dislike anyone they're just stressed. hope you enjoy!! <3 <3

It was hell to see Graydon like this, for almost as long as you had been a knight, you had been his personal protector. You were best friends and companions in almost everything you did, even on your days off. You had been there the day he-  the day his brother died. You’d seen the thing that had taken control of his mind and body and you had vowed to yourself that you’d never let anything like that in again.

Yet here you were, Graydon chained by his wrists, kneeling on the cold, damp floor of Nockmaar castle of all places. You hadn’t left his side since the injury, your defences heightened to the point it took several minutes of debate to even let Boorman help you carry Graydon inside, you would have slung him over your shoulder and done it completely yourself. Now you knelt beside him, a dirty rag in your hand to periodically wipe sweat from his forehead or vomit from his chin. Your heart clenched every time he wretched and you think you must look as heartbroken as you feel because the others keep looking at you almost as worriedly as they looked at Graydon.

“What happened to Ballentine and Merrick is gonna happen to me,” Graydon says quietly into the silence of the cavernous room. It feels like he’s voicing a thought that everyone’s having so you screw your eyes shut and shake your head almost imperceptibly. You knew this was going to happen, Graydon was far too smart and far too righteous for his own good and you swear if he suggests any one of you kill him you were going to scream.

“And you guys are gonna have to stop me before I. . .”

A well timed thunderclap echoes through the room as your grip tightens on his tunic where your hand is laid on his shoulder to keep him steady. You're unable to muster up anything in response so you just swallow hard, trying to get rid of the lump in your throat.

In the background you can hear Elora questioning Willow but all you can hear is the rushing of blood in your ears, you only pay attention when Graydon speaks again and you can’t help but smile, of course he can still recite the epic tale of Bavmorda’s defeat whilst in his condition. He was obsessed with stuff like this. It was one of the things you lov-  admired about him. At the end of his speech he retched again.

Throughout the evening you attempted to feed him tiny morsels of food, you hadn’t said a word to the others, the only sounds you made were to murmur things to Graydon calmingly and the only time you moved was to fetch him water, more food or a clean rag. Right now you sat cross-legged with his head resting on your thigh, you stroked his head lovingly and hummed softly so that only you and Graydon could hear it, although you wouldn’t have really cared if the others did hear.

“How long does he have?” 

The sound of Jade’s voice catches your attention although you don’t look up

“Until it takes hold?”

Eventuallly, Willow answers her 

“Not long. Some time in the small hours of the morning he’ll lose control”

“I mean we all know what has to be done.” Kit says gravely

This does make you look up and you hurl a venomous look at her

“You little sh-” you begin, your voice croaky from the hours spent in silence but still seething with rage.

“Kit’s right” Graydon says quietly, laying a gentle hand on your leg, halting you before you can start to throw insults around.

“I’ve had some experience with this before and I know I’m not strong enough to stop it. . . I don’t want to hurt you guys. . .But I will”

His voice is so forlorn that it only hardens your resolve.

“You are not dying tonight,” Your voice is steely but your eyes are soft as you put a hand on the back of his neck and press your forehead to his. It was perhaps too intimate a gesture for the company but you had left your manners behind long ago.

Elora stands from where she was seated besides the two of you

“If Her Highness is in such a hurry to see it done, she ought to do it herself.”

You were glad to have at least one ally in this

“Oh, you don’t think I will?”

“Uh, I don’t” Boorman pipes up from his place beside the fire, his mouth still full. “Killin’ someone who isn’t trying to kill you back, it's not an easy thing to do”

You stand to take a step towards them, besides Elora, your hand going to your sword at your belt threateningly.

“There’ll definitely be someone trying to kill her back”

Elora pleads that there must be something Willow could do and you can’t help but agree, he was supposed to be the greatest sorcerer in the world. If Graydon died tonight and his personal fucking hero; the allmighty sorcerer Willow couldn’t save him you might just kill everyone in this room and then yourself.

When Willow agrees to at least attempt to help Graydon, you follow him out of the room and into what looks like a large storage cupboard, although you recognise very few of the ingredients in the jars on the shelves. You hurry to help everyone collect the ingredients and tools Willow listed off, nervous about leaving Graydon for too long.

“We can’t allow Graydon’s infection to pass to any of us, if it does we won't get out of here alive” Willow says as everyone gathers at a table ready to split up to their own tasks. You’re biting your nails, restless about getting back to Graydon.

“How infectious are you talking, like if he coughs on us? Or if I touch him and then I, you know, touch my face or. . .”

“I’ve been touching him all night, you couldn’t have said something before?” You demand. You can tell Boorman’s about to make a comment without even having to look at him “Not like that” You growl.

“The vermiscus goo.” Willow clarifies “Don’t sniff it, don’t wipe it, don’t eat it”

“Why would we eat it?” Elora ponders but you’re already done with this conversation and about halfway to the door when Willow seems to remember something else.

“Wait! There’s one thing even more important than that. No matter what, stay out of the High Tower. It’s maybe, probably a portal to the Netherworld”

“Portal to the Netherworld,” You mutter “Of course it is”

There’s another thunderclap and you leave the room before anyone else says another word.

Once you’ve returned to Graydon you deposit your armfuls of ingredients on a small table and when Willow arrives not long after you , you help Graydon into a reclined position on another kind of table. 

“Hey, now this is looking like a real exorcism” You joke, trying to lighten the mood. 

Graydon chuckles but it quickly turns into a cough. When Kit returns with the rest of the ingredients, you busy yourself with mashing together something the way Willow instructed, if you listen to her for more than five seconds right now you’re not sure if you could stop yourself from doing something stupid and what Graydon really doesn’t need right now is a fight. You had always been wary of Kit. She didn’t want to get married, you get that, but the way she treated Graydon had been grating on you from the moment you met her. Graydon had tried to give her the benefit of the doubt but your patience was wearing thin. It’s not even like her status as Graydon’s fiance meant she was trying to take him away from you. Not that you owned him, obviously, but you couldn’t help the bubbling jealousy beneath the surface that she was the one who got to marry him. And now she was basically advocating for his death, without even trying to save him. It was a double edged sword, you hated that she didn’t like Graydon but if she was any kinder to him your jealousy would probably be unbearable.

You’re snapped out of your thoughts when Willow puts a hand on your shoulder and you realise that the ingredients are far past mashed together and the mortar and pestle in your hands are gripped so tightly that they threaten to shatter. Willow gives you a tight lipped sympathetic smile and takes the bowl from you gently.

When Willow pulls out a large pair of shears you jump to your feet, ready to defend Graydon once again but Willow just uses them to cut open his shirt. 

You’d seen his scars a few times before, the first time when you had been showing him some of your scars and he was adamant he had you beat and you wouldn’t let it go until he showed you, the second time you had burst into his room while he was changing, much to the embarrassment of you both and the third time on one glorious summer evening when the two of you had been walking by a lake and you had convinced him to come swimming with you. He was usually very wary of anyone else seeing his scars but you had convinced him it was just the two of you. The memories flashed before your eyes as you put a comforting hand on his shoulder while he explained them to Willow and Elora. You wanted to tell them to mind their own fucking business but you were trying to keep a hold of your temper for Graydons sake and pissing off the only two people who might be able to save him was not smart.

Willow retreats to grab a bucket from his workstation and returns, gesturing for you to move out of the way. Reluctantly and with one final squeeze to his shoulder you step back to stand besides Elora. 

Graydon screams as the liquid from the bucket connects with his flesh. You screw your eyes shut, the sizzling sound of his flesh making you want to vomit or curl up into a ball or both. Elora’s hand finds yours and she squeezes you tightly. You squeeze her hand back and the two of you stand there for what feels like an eternity.

You feel utterly fucking useless, hours go by and all you can do is stand and watch. You’re not a sorcerer, you don’t know how to do spells or make potions. Hell, you’re not even that good at cooking. You knew how to fight, this sorcery stuff was Graydon's specialty, if only you could just punch this fucking Lich out of him. The sound of Willow and Elora chanting was driving you insane, the same gibberish over and over again and nothing seemed to be happening. Even in his state Graydon was able to correct Elora’s pronunciation of the spell. It made you smile despite the circumstances

Eventually Kit returned with the final ingredients. Graydon seemed to have settled down into a restless sleep while Elora and Willow finished the salve. You hovered nervously at Graydon’s side, biting your nails as you watch the two sorcerers work. Willow collects a blob of the salve on the tip of a knife that Boorman had retrieved earlier and presses it to the wound at Graydon’s shoulder. You tense up ready for the screaming to start again but it doesn’t seem to bother him. You don't know if that's a good sign or a bad sign.

Suddenly he sits bolt upright, his hands coming to fists in Willows tunic 

“Get me some water, peck”

It was Graydon's voice but it didn’t sound like him at all.

“Or you die. Understand? Water”

Elora hurries to fetch him water and you take a step forward, your hand outstretched tentatively, unsure if you should touch him or not.

“Graydon?” You ask softly, his eyes snap to you before his head flies back and the sound of Airk’s voice emanates from his throat.

“It’s not Airk, it’s the Lich, trying to break our concentration” Willow warns. 

Unable to cope, Kit runs from the room and Elora and Willow continue their chanting. When Graydon's voice switches to Mims, addressing Willow now he stuffs a rag in his mouth and your resolve breaks. You don’t care if you’re risking infecting yourself, you sink to your knees at Graydon’s side, an arm reach over his chest to hold him, your other hand around his chained bicep. You press your forehead to his side and the sound of Elora and Willow chanting and then breaking into argument is far in the distance. You focus on the fact you can still hear him breathing and you murmur quietly to him, telling him it’s gonna be alright. And that Willow and Elora are going to save him. Eventually you feel a hand on your shoulder, it’s Willow, holding some sort of instrument that looks more like a weapon than anything that would be used to heal someone. He has a grave look on his face

“You need to leave. You’re not going to want to see this.”

Silently you stand, and give Graydon one last look before leaving the room. You hadn’t noticed that Elora had left but there was no sight of her as you’re walking down the corridor. Piercing through the silence, Graydon’s screams start up again and you clap your hands over your ears and take off running, you need to get away from this awful place. Eventually, when you can no longer hear Graydon’s screams you stop running, you don’t know where you are, all the corridors look the same anyway, you sink down against the wall, bringing your knees up to your chest. There you sit, huddled up against the wall for what could have been minutes or hours. Eventually you’re too exhausted to keep your eyes open and you doze off. You think you’re dreaming at first, you can hear Graydon’s voice echoing around you but as it gets closer and you begin to wake up you can still hear his voice, and is that Elora too? You scramble to your feet and run towards the sound.

“Graydon?” You call, the hope in your voice is obvious.

You turn a corner and there he is, looking a little bit worse for wear but otherwise unharmed. You race towards him, collecting him in a bone crushing hug

“What happened?” You demand “Where’s Willow?”

They explain what Graydon told Elora, that the exorcism worked but now the Lich was possessing Willow and they needed to find him. Elora tells you that they think he might be in the High Tower and you nod, it makes sense but you can’t help but get a bad feeling about it in the pit of your stomach. Something wasn’t right. 

Right now though you couldn’t care less, with Graydon’s hand clutched in yours you felt like you could do anything and you were going to kick that Lich’s ass.

The three of you race up to the High Tower, Elora leading the way. Every so often, you catch Graydon glancing over at you with a smile and you wonder how much of the evening he remembers. The butterflies in your stomach soon overtake the previous unease and you’re almost embarrassed by how much of a wreck you were earlier. The door to the High Tower creaks open, revealing a dark and dusty yet empty room.

“He’s not here” Elora says, sounding defeated.

Graydon’s hand slips from yours and he begins to walk slowly into the room.

“No.” he says. You frown.

“I don’t understand, where could he be?”

“I don’t know, but maybe it’s okay.”

“What do you mean okay? We have to find him before it’s too late”

“Don’t you see?”

The sinking feeling in your stomach has returned and you find your hand creeping towards your sword.

“It doesn’t matter.” The previously unlit candles spring to life and you feel sick.

Graydon turns to face the two of you, two minutes ago he had looked unharmed, now it looked like his skin was blistering and peeling from his face. 

You unsheath your sword, it feels heavy in your hands as Graydon says

“He can’t help you anymore.”

Elora runs for the door but an unseen force slams it shut before she can reach it. You don’t take your eyes off Graydon

“We’re gonna finish the ritual. Tonight”

You take a step towards him

“Graydon, I know you’re in there. I know you can hear me,” you plead “this isn’t you”

“I’ve never felt stronger” His voice is distorted. This is not the Graydon you know. And it certainly isn’t the Graydon you love. He picks up a boulder from the floor and hoists it over his shoulder.

“Look! I’m strong now! I can finally protect you like you want. You don’t have to be the one looking after me all the time” His voice breaks and you hear the real Graydon underneath and your heart shatters. You shake your head at him, clutching your sword in both hands, terrified that you’re going to have to use it. 

“That is not what I want. You’re already strong, Graydon,” 

You can hear your blood rushing in your ears, your head is pounding, there’s definitely something fucked up about this tower. The tears you’ve been holding back prick at your eyes and threaten to spill out.

“You’re strong in ways that matter! In the real way! You’re smart and kind, I wish I was more like you!” Your voice cracks and you’re desperately trying not to let the tears spill out. Graydon looks unphased but you can see something swimming in his eyes. The real him is still there.

Suddenly the door swings open and Willow appears

“What did I say was the number one most important safety rule?”

Graydon hurls his rock at Willow who dives out of the way just in time. You launch yourself at Graydon, who just flings you backwards with a flick of his wrist where you fly into the door, hitting the back of your head with a slam. You black out for just a second but when you come to Graydon has Elora levitating high into the air.

“So tell me, how will you defeat us?”

You stand as willow says 

“Same as last time, with my friends.”

The door opens and Kit, Jade and Boorman stand besides you. You think for a moment that Graydon looks worried and is soon proved right when Willow uses his staff to send him flying backwards into the wall. Kit, Jade and Boorman run to pin him down. You’re still dazed, using a pillar to stop yourself from collapsing back on the floor when you hear Boorman's voice.

“We have to do it”

You know exactly what he means and you let out a yell, hurling yourself towards him. You are not letting anyone kill your best friend. Your tousle with Boorman for a moment, you think you’ve just got the upper hand when he lands a blow right to the bruise on the back of your head. Your vision swims and he manages to get a grip on your arms, holding you as you struggle against him. You scream in frustration, the tears finally spilling over onto your cheeks. Kit and Jade still battle to hold Graydon down although Jade has her sword half unsheathed and only Kit’s exclamation to wait stops her from using it. You’re sobbing now, fighting fruitlessly against Boorman’s hold. You just need to get to him, you just need to be with him. The world grows strangely silent as you turn your attention to Elora

“Please-!” you choke out “You need to save him please”

Slowly she makes her way over to you, you think it has nothing to do with your pleading and everything to do with whatever it was Kit just said to her but you don’t care. You just need her to save him. She holds her hand out to you and reluctantly Boorman lets you go to take it.

“I need your help” she says

You shake your head, the tears still flowing. 

“I’m no good at that shit. I can’t do magic. That’s Graydon’s thing”

“Do you love him?”

You’re taken aback but slowly you nod

“Then you can do it.”

She leads you over to Graydon who doesn’t fight back as Jade relinquishes her hold on him. Elora’s hand remains firmly in yours as you lean over the man you love. You feel as though he’s staring directly into your soul as your eyes flutter shut and your lips connect, the taste of him mingling with your salty tears. When you part you can see the wisps of gold light, streaming out from his mouth and into yours and when you turn to look you can see it travelling through your arm and into Elora where your hands connect. You watch as it dissipates out of her into the night air and you turn around to see Graydon staring at you in awe. You sob, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and burying your head in his neck

“You asshole, don’t ever do that to me again” You blubber. His hand comes up to the back of your head and he laughs breathlessly 

“I knew you could do it.”

[shaykesqueer]

O Rose, Thou Art Sick

Chapter Four: You’re Only Human

Chapter Links | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | AO3

Summary: Mountain and Sunny want to take Fox on a tour of the Ministry gardens and show off their magic.

Word Count: 4.8k

Content Warnings: 18+. Sunny gets a little too rough roughhousing with some Siblings, but no one is hurt.

Notes: There’s a lot of flowers and plants in this chapter! This is where the metaphors and my endless gardening research gets real heavy. Also fall in love with Mountain and Sunny like I did?

The Ministry greenhouse was supposedly not very far from the Ghoul den, but Fox suspected Sunny and Mountain were taking them the long way round. The scenic route, they considered, as it was mostly through the forest that trailed beside the lake. Incidentally, the Ministry had an entire lake on the property. Sunny made lots of gleeful promises to the tune of taking them out there to swim and showing them her favourite spot in the mud to dig for worms. She had been particularly keen to tell them that in the late summer-time, there would be raucous parties out on the water and on the banks, held late into the night by the light of the fireflies. She said the Ghouls had done so every year since she had been summoned. Which had only been two, but her enthusiasm was unmatched. Mountain had also been quick to add that he liked it just as much when the lake was frozen over, and that it could be at any time of the year thanks to another Ghoul by the name of Cumulus. 

Fox quickly noticed that Sunny was the more talkative of the pair. She seemed to verbalise any thought that entered her head, no matter how flippant. Or terrifying. It wasn’t just that she didn’t appear to have a filter, so to speak, but it was as if she was just so excited to share each impulse that she physically couldn’t help herself. And next to very sweet, impulsive was definitely her defining trait. If the incident with the arm hadn’t proven that, then watching her roughhousing with some passing Siblings along the trail definitely did. No limbs were removed- this time - but there was some unfortunate clawing and hair pulling. In her defence, Sunny had fallen into a flurry of apologies once she’d realised what she’d done. She had combed her fingers through hair, petted heads, licked wounds, and nuzzled shoulders until she was convinced the Siblings were good as new. In her defence, the Siblings seemed to know just what they were getting into and they accepted her sorrys and kisses just as enthusiastically. Sunny’s excitability didn’t end there though. She had the obvious habit of losing her train of thought, with her attention constantly being pulled in so many directions at once like pieces of thread that frayed with every tug. Luckily, she had an endless spool. While listing off the best spots for undisturbed napping (an empty nook in the ossuary, under the library tables, and a hollow on the edge of the forest that she’d dug out all by herself) she muddled her words and trailed off no less than three times because she was busy trying to catch passing butterflies.

Mountain, on the other hand, was something of a gentle giant. Fox was beginning to think that he didn’t like them due to the fact that he’d been so quiet on the walk. Being famously unliked by many people in the past, Fox wanted to believe they were past letting that bother them. But seeing Mountain trail so far behind them, hardly moving sometimes, did make them feel a touch awkward. More than once, Fox turned back to see the Ghoul staring into the dense thicket of trees and so far away it almost looked like he didn’t tower over everyone. Fox even watched him pause to sit cross-legged on the grass, lost in whatever was floating around in that head. It wasn’t until Fox themself became distracted by an unknown flower and then became dwarfed by his enormous shadow that they realised the two of them would become fast friends. 

Fox held a sudden and vast respect for the Ghoul after he described the flora, explaining how and where it bloomed, how delicate it was to take care of. His voice was deceivingly soft and he spoke with such enamour that it was easy to share the enthusiasm he felt whilst telling Fox how to brew a very calming tea from the flowers, that was incidentally perfect to enjoy on rainy days. 

After that, Mountain was eager to point out each and every flower, tree, long grass, and mushroom, and relay his thoughts on them. Fox was more than happy to watch him become just as bouncy as Sunny while he did so. 

When they reached the greenhouse, Fox was surprised to see the state of it. They had assumed it was going to be an overrun mess of tangled vines and pocked leaves, divided by broken windows, dying from the inside out. To say it was in a fine condition was selling it short. It was a grand Victorian glasshouse, worked with webs of spindling iron atop hundreds of geometric panes, the building spanning a full acre at least. The interior was quite ghostly. It wasn’t abandoned, per se, just bare. Colder than it should’ve been, with only a few choice spots decorated with warm sun beams that curled around the pillars and walkways. Fox was surprised Sunny hadn’t mentioned this on her list of napping spots. There wasn’t a huge variety of plants, but they appeared to be well cared for. There was an abundance of tomatoes ready for harvest, along with freshly planted chilli plants, and slowly emerging carrots. Fox would’ve liked to see the latter in a slightly less heavy soil, but they were carefully planted and thriving nonetheless. The obvious pride of the greenhouse was the collection of sunflowers that decorated a small alcove. They came complete with tall artificial lights and strong scented soil that left wet dirt stains on Fox’s fingers. Someone was looking after these plants and taking great care in doing so. Fox suspected it was most likely a select few, Siblings or otherwise. Their chest twisted in disappointment, in shame for all this wasted space, haunted by dusty clutter. They were already conjuring up ideas on how to turn it into a verifiable oasis of fruit trees and orchids, cacti and begonias, a cloud of greens to go with those ripe vegetables. 

As it turned out, the greenhouse was only a detour on the journey the Ghoul pair had planned for Fox. When they’d originally left the den, Sunny had said she wanted to 'show them around' , having grown obviously tired of the other Ghouls’ obnoxious antics. She had been itching to leave and if Fox hadn’t been also, they were sure she would’ve yanked their hand off pulling them up the stairs. Along the trail, Fox was beginning to think that perhaps claims of the horrid state of the grounds had been greatly exaggerated- damaged and deteriorated seemed far too harsh to describe it. Of course, there was a definite weed problem, and the landscaping could use some seeing too. But it wasn’t unredeemable. At least, that is what Fox had thought until they saw what they were told was supposed to be a cemetery. It didn’t look so much of a cemetery as it did an overgrown, overflooded glen with bits of brick rising out of the ground. To say Fox was appalled was an understatement. Saying the land had ‘gone to shit’ was even an understatement. Between Mountain’s hurried steps and Sunny’s unusual quietness, they got the hint to not linger very long. Seeing even the Ghouls so ashamed of it was the real twist of the knife. 

Fox’s lamenting came to a halt very shortly. Down a number of twisting stone pathways and beyond a line of gnarled trees was the first real garden Fox had seen here. It was quite perfectly managed, circles of charming gravestones decorating moving water features and topiaries sculpted into huge, expressive faces. There was little in the way of actual flowers, but those that were there were all dark with splashes of pink and red, petals shaped like brushstrokes and all arranged in swirling, hypnotic patterns. There were also signs of life here. Siblings sat on the edge of fountains sketching and skimming the water with their fingertips, and there were several Clergy members strolling together as well. The state of it was enough to make Fox seriously doubt their need to be here for a moment. They learnt from Mountain that any Siblings scheduled to maintain this particular garden were either overly enthusiastic about it, so much so that they bordered on fanatical, or they were scared to the point of having a nervous breakdown. Either way, it usually ended in tears. The upper management ran a very tight ship on this particular garden and it was perhaps the most well looked after place on the exterior grounds. The beauty of it all was as impressive as it was intimidating and so Fox was filled with terror at the prospect of having to take over the upkeep of this one garden. There were plenty of shit-hole pieces of land around here but if they fucked up the nice one, dear God, they’d be flayed! What if the Clergy thought they couldn’t hack it? They didn’t know a lot about water features in all honesty- what if they broke something? A gardener they certainly were, but a sculptor? Of trees ? Any minute, the people around here were going to realise they’d made a mistake hiring them. Fox felt they were one out of season flower, one wrong type of soil, one light up a cigarette one morning and burn the whole forest down mistake away from getting thrown into the wood chipper. Before Fox tried to hide the feeling, there was nothing to hide but relief when they were assured by Mountain that the Clergy was so focused on this garden as more of a formality. This was Nihil’s garden, after all. From what Fox had gathered, Nihil was the grand patriarch of the Ministry. The Big Daddy, so to speak. He was also quite dead, but that didn’t seem to stop him from making appearances. Fox was somewhat unsure what that could mean, but they decided it was probably best to not go looking for things they did not want the answer to. 

On the other side of the garden was a second. The Ghouls told Fox that there were a total of five bordered gardens like these ones and that they were laid out sporadically along the grounds in no particular order. This garden belonged to, or rather was in honour of, a man named Secondo. Nihil’s second born son. Fox had asked what his first born son was named and upon learning it was Primo, they decided that Nihil was quite possibly a terrible and uncreative father. Secondo’s garden had a distinctly creepy vibe to it. Sinister wasn’t exactly the right word, it was more of a sadness. Just a bitter, impenetrable sadness. Fox supposed in a way it was quite sinister, in that respect. The main difference between this garden and the last was that this garden was engulfed by a thick canopy of tree branches, making the whole area so dark that it felt like walking straight into the night. Or it would if not for the streaks of sunlight spraying through the boughs. Fox imagined this was a very good place to come and cry. If a lover left, if someone died. Not that they would have need of such a place or for such a thing. The plants in the garden were doubly unusual; Fox recognised some of them but for the most part was quite in the dark. The beauty of the place was not lost on them though. They were informed after some time that nearly everything planted here was poisonous, which made Fox all the more impressed. Most of the plants looked healthy enough, and the sheer variety was staggering. Apparently, Primo’s garden was something of a herb garden, both in the literal and euphemistic sense, and signs were constantly being put up to deter Siblings from mixing the two gardens up. That job was promptly bumped up to the top of Fox’s list: make a much more obvious sign. 

Upon exiting, the sudden flood of light was blinding. When their eyesight finally came back to them, they squinted in confusion against the glare of the sun. “What’s that?” they asked, pointing towards a small incline across the grass. It was gated off and the only thing housed inside was what looked like a large inverted crucifix. It looked unusual against the bravado of the rest of the gardens and it hardly stood up to the interiors either, which were so far away at this point that there didn’t seem to be much use to it. 

“That’s Papa’s garden,” Sunny replied with a nod, to which Fox wrinkled their nose. 

“That’s a garden? I thought it was an empty construction lot,” Fox said. The closer they got to it, the worse it became. Despite the minimal plant life, which was comprised mostly of thorns and brambles and weeds, it felt less than barren. The inverted crucifix might have appeared sort of impressive from a distance but now that Fox was in front of it, it was rather small. There were a few other decorations, if they could be called that. There was a well. There were some stones. The best item by far was the ceramic goat head. It was also the gaudiest item. And the item with the worst paint job. “Is this what it’s supposed to look like?”

“Sort of,” said Sunny, who was sitting atop of the fence with her legs swinging underneath her. 

“What do you mean 'sort of’?” 

Sunny shrugged. “He likes it.”

“There’s no way anyone wants a garden with their name on it looking like this.” Fox idly turned a rock with their boot. It was a shame, really. It wasn’t that bad of a spot. Fox could envision wildflowers and strawberry plants, a grove of fruit trees, bleeding heart and mountain-laurel and lavender. It could be beautiful. It was more than telling that there was no response from either Ghoul. Mountain was busy fiddling with a stray vine that was wrapped around his fingers. Watching that was far more enchanting than the actual garden, but it seemed like rather unfair competition. Especially considering the small leaves that were miraculously flowering from the vine. 

Fox approached Mountain slowly, doing nothing to hide their amazement. It couldn’t be real, could it? It’s a trick. A good trick, but still a trick. It didn’t take long for Mountain to notice their stare and he turned to look up at them from his spot on the ground. For the first time, Fox gave him a really good look, considering his ghoulishness. He had strong, grecian features- a wide, flat nose and deep pink eyes, like a rabbit’s. His hair was a dark copper, more red than Fox’s, but his most striking feature were the horns rising up out from his forehead. They were broad and curled like a ram’s, but they twisted around dark and ashy like tree branches, peppered with fleecy green moss. He could’ve looked human. Could have, but didn’t. It wasn’t just the obvious fiendish horns, or the witchery. Like the other Ghouls, he had an atmosphere around him. It wasn’t as concentrated as the others Fox had noticed, not as obvious or easy to place. Dew’s was more of a warmth, a bonfire. The beautiful Ghoul (who they had been told was named Rain) was calming and bright like the moment a storm breaks. Sunny’s was the most infectious, all fireworks and pinwheels. But Mountain’s? It was like a song. A song on the wind that made the earth around him feel more alive. The most subtle, but the most convincing. Maybe it was magic. 

Without a word, Mountain curled his hand and beckoned for Fox to join him. They crouched over onto their knees, eyes set on Mountain’s enormous palm. A dot of purple broke through his skin and unfurled from the centre of his hand, the splash of colour sprouting upwards. It chased Mountain’s fingers, dots blooming into flowers on the ends of delicate ribbons of stem. Fox was entranced and they were sure there must have been stars in their eyes. They didn’t care, they couldn’t look away. Before long, Mountain’s hands were engulfed by flowers. Bushels of them danced over his fingertips, blooming in a trail up his arms. Before they could think not to, Fox reached out. But then hesitated, their smile faltering. With everything they knew having come into question of late, there may have been some hellspawn etiquette they were unaware of. It was more than likely either way, but they didn’t want to offend Mountain by showing interest in the flowers. Hesitation melted away quickly when the Ghoul gave them a gentle nod. The petal was soft between Fox’s fingers, as silky as they’d expected, and they laughed. “These aren’t even in season,” they said under their breath. 

“What are they called?” Mountain asked and Fox turned their eyes to him, frowning. 

“They’re crocuses,” they said. ”Do any grow around here in the winter, or the spring?” 

Mountain reached over his chest, arms creaking like the boughs of a great tree, and he plucked a flower from his shoulder. He held it up to his face and let the petals brush against his nose. He remained still for a moment before shaking his head. 

“You can make flowers that you’ve never seen?” Fox was stuck watching Mountain in awe, watching this utter giant of a Ghoul sat so soft and thoughtful, and swathed in strokes of caressing purple and yellow and green. “How?” they asked. 

“I’m not sure,” Mountain said. “It just comes to me.” Carefully, he held his arms out in front of him and overturned his palms. The flower petals swayed against the breeze, trembled and flitted on their stems, until specks of them began to break away. The flowers caught the wind and a curling wave of petals rose from the Ghoul, floating into the air like confetti. 

“That’s amazing,” Fox whispered, craning their neck back to watch the petals dissolve into the sky. Their attention dropped to stray strands of grass-like stems that fluttered to a nearby patch of earth. It was bare save for the specks of loose gravel and the new plants sweeping over the ground. “What about over there?” Fox pointed to the patch. It didn’t exactly look like the optimal place to grow, well, anything. But with the Ghoul’s magic coursing under the surface, Fox could only imagine what impossible, beautiful flora could spring forth and actually rejuvenate this garden. And within moments. 

Mountain laughed and it broke Fox’s wonder briefly. It was a kind laugh. Low and rumbling. He quickly explained that, as lovely an idea as it was, he wasn’t able to conjure plantlife from just anything. Only himself. His hands, his skin. With no effort at all, a cluster of tiny blue flowers bloomed upon the crown of Mountain’s head and ran in streams around the curve of his horns. Fox muffled a gentle laugh behind their hand and Mountain smiled in return. “You should ask Sunshine,” he said, arching an eyebrow past Fox to the Ghoul behind them. 

Sunny was still perched on the edge of the fence and she looked at Mountain with a playful scoff. “You know I’m still practicing,” she said with a shake of her head, her bright curls ruffling. She bounced off her seat and looked down at Fox. “I can only grow things a little bit.” Sunny folded her arms across her chest. 

After a pause, Fox stood up. They reached deep into their belt pouch and fished around at the bottom of the polyester until their fingers grazed the rounded corners of the card wallet they were searching for. “Could you make these sprout?” they asked gently. They pinched the sides of the wallet and tipped it over into their palm, five or six beige pebbles tumbling out. They were rose seeds. Seeds that Fox had collected from all over for so many years. It pained them to admit it, but it was their one horticultural defeat. They couldn’t cultivate roses. Not from seeds, not from scratch. And it wasn’t as if they hadn’t tried, of course they had! From makeshift milk crate gardens hanging off rusty window ledges to verifiable Edens in ever sustainable communes, they had tried. But it was always fruitless. They’d spent many a night beating themself up over the failure too. But, as proud as Fox was, they weren’t quite foolish enough to deny the help of magic wielding demons. For once, their roses might just have a chance. If Satan himself could pull this one off, Fox was willing to take a closer look at that dwindling faith of theirs.

Sunny bit her bottom lip and shot an apprehensive glance between Fox and Mountain, who was still folded upon the ground. Fox found it strange to see such nervousness cross her features, and they began to feel a little bad about causing it for a moment. But Sunny held her breath and scrunched her eyes shut and put her palm against theirs. Her hand was warm and only grew warmer the longer she held on. At first, Fox didn’t really feel anything. But as Sunny’s face smoothed out, her fingers arched as if she was conducting an orchestra and Fox felt pinpricks ripple over their hand. It only took a few seconds before she stopped, tentatively lifting her hands. 

And there it was. 

Sunny let out a burst of vibrant laughter and Fox gasped. Wispy green tendrils spiralled from each of the seeds, roots creeping, tangling. They couldn’t believe it, couldn’t believe that these rose pits that had been stuck and neglected for so long had sprung into seedlings in a matter of seconds. Fox was sure their mouth was hanging open cartoonishly, was sure their breath was caught in their throat, those stars in their eyes more like suns now. They laughed, they couldn’t help it, and their free hand went to Sunny’s shoulder and then her face. Fox could have kissed her. But then Fox looked around, head whipping in a desperate flurry. Before they could even fathom how lost Sunny looked, they were tipping the seeds into her palm, curling her fingers around them to keep them safe. 

“Keep an eye on these. I’ll be right back,” Fox rambled out and quickly made a break for the greenhouse. When they met the fence, they slung themself over and slid most of the way down the hill. Their soles ate up the ground beneath them until they could get their hands on trays and  flower pots nestled in corners of the greenhouse, packing them full of soil they gathered from an already open bag. In a narrow attempt at avoiding the garden gate, Fox skid on the dirt when they arrived back, kicking up a cloud of dust that spread over their clothes as they slid down onto their knees. There came a blur of feverish motioning alongside oppositely gentle potting, with all the care and caution as if Fox were performing a surgery. Once the seedlings were neatly tucked into the soil, packed in lovingly and sealed with a kiss, they finally caught a breath. 

“We could have roses in maybe a month,” they gasped out, leaning back on their heels. “Actual roses.” Fox looked up to their right where Mountain crouched beside them, clapping a hand onto their shoulder.

“Rose bushes? Here?” Sunny said and when Fox stood, they saw her looking around incredulously. 

“Not full bushes, not for a few years,” they replied. They understood, it was a little unbelievable to think anything could actually grow in this garden, other than tumbleweeds and disdain. “But these will bloom and we’ll get a whole plot out of them.” They would need attention, and lots of it. Fox wasn’t concerned though. There was no room for doubt when they were positively brimming over with excitement. Excitement and pride that lit a fire under their skin. With a clap bringing their hands together, Fox fell into an animated pace across the garden plot. They relayed plans, all tumbling out, spilling out of them as soon as they popped into their head and interspersed with thank yous to Sunny, who fawned over every fleeting pat to her arm. The first thing to go would be that well. Not only was it a waste of space, but the damn thing was falling apart! The entire left side was caved in, leaving a trail of dusty, broken stones, with cracks in them large enough to fall into. That’s where the lavender would go, Fox thought. And said, outloud. And there- bleeding heart. Right by the gate. Fox’s hand snaked a path across the ground, running along to an imagined burst of plum trees and berry bushes. It wasn’t until they reached one edge of the fence that they realised they’d been raving with abandon, and had gotten themself quite turned around. 

“But, uh, what do you think?” Fox asked with a stuttering hum, trying to laugh. Mountain, whose attention had been caught by a line of ants marching across the dirt, pulled a face. Fox picked up a loose stone from beside their foot and huffed before throwing it over the fence. Next to them, Sunny barked her own laugh and did the same. Hers flew even further. The arch of the stone brought Fox’s eyes back to the fence and they set their hands upon it. They shook it, gently. And it shook. Gently. Fox promptly became distracted with the thought that maybe they could get away with replacing the fence. Or some of it, at least. 

“I think,” Mountain began. “You should plant things that Copia likes.” 

“Who?” they said. 

“Papa.” Mountain finished with a nod and Fox sniffed. They weren’t quite sure whether it was a good or a bad sign, the Ghouls being on a first-name basis with the man. It was probably nothing to be troubled by, it should’ve even been expected. Perhaps their impression had been sullied by the way Terzo spoke about him. Which hadn’t been an awful lot, but Fox was surprised he hadn’t pulled a muscle after the one mention strained him so. Perhaps they were just annoyed themself at their idyllic vision for this garden slowly fading under whatever whims this Papa had. Or maybe they were annoyed they’d let themself get so carried away. 

Fox leant back against the fence. “What does he like then?” 

“Ask him yourself,” said Sunny. Fox followed her arm, her pointed finger over the fence, down the curve of the hill, and to a figure standing at the bottom of it. 

He was perfectly still and staring up at them, his hands hidden beneath the dark robe he wore. Fox’s brow creased, trying to see anything more than an outline of a man. They couldn’t tell what kind of expression he was holding, if any at all, and they could only make out the vague impression of his features because of his heavy skeletal face paint. It was almost ridiculous. Almost. If anything, it made him look surprisingly stately. As aloof as one could be while painted up like a halloween decoration. Fox felt uneasy, and it wasn’t just the innate foreboding of looking upon the Ministry’s figurehead, not just a pope but that of Satan himself. It was familiar. Disturbingly so. 

When they turned to look back at Sunny, her face was already split into toothy grin and she was practically trembling in anticipation. Her hand shot up straight in the air, as far as she could physically reach, and she waved. She waved in the broadest, the most enthusiastic, the most rip-your-arm-off-from-the-force-of-it way she could have possibly managed, and Fox paled immediately. They stuck a hand in the crook of Sunny’s elbow and pulled her arm down, embarrassment colouring their face once the Ghoul only laughed. Her smile never wavered, not even once. Why had they done that? Trepidation over having to meet the guy? Fox had survived both their meetings with Terzo and the Ghouls, and they had to admit they weren’t unhappy about the outcomes. So why were they nervous? No- shit- they weren’t nervous. They were just coming down from the high of getting those roses planted. 

“Does he like roses?” they said eventually, slowly, their words creaking out like they were hanging off dull hinges. They looked at Mountain, not too keen to light Sunny’s spark again. But Mountain shrugged, and Fox frowned. Copia was gone by the time they glanced back down the hill, with no trace of even a shadow, vanished as if he had only been a spirit. 

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[blu-joons]

The Special Hug ~ Min Yoongi

Your eyes lit up as you spotted the group of boys coming towards you as their rehearsal ended, thrilled to see that you had managed to get to Tokyo to support them for the evening.

“I’m so glad you could make it,” Jimin smiled, the first of the members to pull you into a hug, and the reason that you had formed such close bonds with all seven of the boys in the first place.

“I wasn’t going to miss out on the MAMAs,” you laughed in reply.

Your eyes looked in admiration as you noticed that they were in their outfits for their stage that evening, glancing specifically across at Yoongi who stood on the end of the row with his arms behind his back.

Before you could say anything else, Jimin stepped back from you, giving you a small twirl. Your head shook at the proud grin on his face as he joined the formation that the boys had found themselves in, directly in the middle of them all.

“Did you get to see us rehearse?” Taehyung asked as he also stepped forward to be able to greet you, “the security is pretty tight around here, they don’t let many people around.”

Your head shook in reply as you wrapped your arms around Taehyung, giving him a gentle squeeze before letting go of him, studying his outfit closely too.

“I’m glad you could make it,” Yoongi suddenly spoke up as Taehyung moved back into the line, “we’re honoured that you took the time to come by.”

“Of course, I couldn’t miss this for the world.”

What happened next brought a collective gasp from all of the boys as Yoongi stepped forward to greet you with a hug, squeezing you tightly with his arms around your shoulders.

“What is happening?” Jin exclaimed, “am I dreaming or is the Min Yoongi being affectionate with someone?”

You poked your tongue out at Jin past Yoongi’s shoulder, staying in his hold for a few moments before he backed away. A red glow was on his cheeks as he did so, looking down to the floor in the hope that the boys would ignore him.

“Y/N, you’ve got to tell us how you did that,” Hobi spoke, the first to start the teasing, “he literally hits us if we so much as poke him usually.”

“Are you guys sure that you’re just friends?”

You shot a glare across at Jimin, tilting your head to encourage him to shut up, knowing that he knew that the two of you were just close friends, and nothing more.

“What does Y/N have that we don’t?” Namjoon asked Yoongi who stood to his side.

You couldn’t help but chuckle as Yoongi remained tight-lipped, refusing to cave in to the many jokes that the boys had on the tip of their tongues beside him.

Your friendship had always been something that captured the boys’ attention, even though they all understood that the two of you were just close friends, there was a spark in Yoongi when he was around you that was non-existent around anymore of his friends.

“Y/N is nice to me,” Yoongi suddenly spoke up, folding his arms across his chest, “she doesn’t mock me and make fun of me like any of you guys do.”

They all stared back at him, holding their hands up in defence. “We would never mock you,” Taehyung pointed out to him, “we all love you just as much as Y/N does.”

“That is not true, anyway, it’s just a hug, it’s no big deal, is it?”

As he spoke, Yoongi was oblivious to Jungkook creeping around the line, tiptoeing in Yoongi’s direction. Your head shook as he neared Yoongi, watching him lift his arm up as he arrived at Yoongi’s side, placing it over his shoulders.

“Nice try,” Yoongi quickly snapped as soon as he felt contact with his shoulders, slapping Jungkook’s hand away from resting around him, jumping away so that a small distance grew between the two of them.

“Why can’t you just hug us?” Jimin chuckled, taking a step towards Yoongi, only for Yoongi to take a step back from him. “You can’t seriously expect us to think nothing is going on when Y/N is the only person that you ever hug.”

“She is my friend,” Yoongi calmly reiterated, making sure to make eye contact with all six of them, “nothing you have to say will change that.”

Your head nodded in agreement by his side, “sorry to disappoint you guys, but a guy and a girl can just be friends, even if they do share a hug.”

The six of them stepped back, leaving you and Yoongi stood side by side with one another. Neither of you so much as flinched as you were left next to each other, proving that you were more than comfortable with one another.

Despite the antagonising from the boys, Yoongi knew that you were just a close friend to him, even though you were Jimin’s friend first, he hoped that he was the member that you were close with too. “You guys can carry on thinking that a hug means something more, but I think it comes from a place of bitterness really.”

“Of course, it does,” Namjoon groaned in reply to Yoongi, “we’ve known you for over eight years and you’ve barely given any of us more than about five hugs in that time.”

“And I can bet you’ve given Y/N at least fifty more too,” Jin interjected.

“Maybe we all just have to start acting like Y/N,” Hobi suggested, glancing around at the group, “if we can’t appeal to Yoongi, then maybe we just have to act like what appeals to Yoongi instead to get a hug out of him.”

Your head continued to shake at the eagerness between the boys to try and appeal to Yoongi, just for the sake of a hug that came from him.

“Do you guys hear yourselves?” You quizzed, “anyone would think you were getting offered a million dollars, not just a hug from one of your group mates.”

“A hug from Yoongi is worth a million dollars,” Jimin replied to you, “you don’t understand the torment that we’ve all been through for years trying to get something out of this guy.”

Your eyes looked to Yoongi beside you as he shrugged too, unable to see the value that was placed on just a small, often meaningless gesture.

“You learn to ignore them,” he informed you, throwing his arm across your shoulders, “trust me, eventually they’ll get over it and realise that a hug from me is no big deal at all. And most of all, they’ll stop being jealous of you.”

“I can’t believe you guys are jealous for the sake of a hug, you must have stupid arguments all the time,” you spoke.

“If someone wasn’t terrified of affection, we wouldn’t argue,” Namjoon counterargued, “what’s your secret Y/N? Just tell us.”

You held your hands up in the air in protest, “I haven’t got any secrets, I guess I must just be more special to Yoongi than you guys.”

“Special? You think that you’re more special to Yoongi than us?” Taehyung asked you.

Your head nodded back at him, “I hate to say it, but out of the seven of us, who got the important hug from Yoongi?”

“Fine, I guess you must be pretty special after all.”

---

Masterlist

[storiesofsvu]

Mistletoe

Rita Calhoun x reader Warnings: language, sass, fake dating trope, alcohol consumption, smut. A/N: an old story, I’m just uploading everything to the new blog now And adding in the new tag lists.

*

“Arrggghhh!” The strangled cry from your office gained Rita’s attention as she’d crossed through the firm back to her own, the vision of your cell phone going flying through the room causing her to pause, leaning against the door frame.

“Barba driving you insane? Or do you have one of those clients I warned you about?” She smirked softly. Your huffed out a sigh, looking across at her, annoyance ever president on your face.

“I would rather be dealing with a very guilty baby killer than this right now.” You groaned, running your heads over your face before it dropped to the desk in front of you.

“What’s going on?” Rita moved into your office easily, swinging the door shut behind her.

From the moment you’d started at her firm the two of you had become friends, you had a ferociousness that she rarely saw in new lawyers, and you were one that immediately started to work for the defence. You still had your morals, but you knew where to draw the line, knowing exactly what situations you were getting into before you got into them. Rita was more than okay with spilling a few of her overflow clients your way, and amazed at the way you managed to defend them perfectly in a courtroom. She particularly loved the way you absolutely eviscerated Barba nearly every time you went up against him. Despite the age gap the two of you had gotten along swimmingly, even more than the others in the firm, usually spending working lunches together, or pursuing drinks after work as a way to wind down. It’d been nearly four years and honestly, you were some of the closest friends the other had after so long in the industry.

“My fucking Mother.” You groaned, rolling your eyes, nodding a thanks as Rita dropped the tossed cell phone back onto your desk. “Every year since I was in high school it’s like a goddamn sin if I don’t bring someone home for Christmas and I am sick of it.” Rita chuckled softly, “two years ago I bribed Jensen to come with me in an attempt to piss of my parents and they barely flinched when I told them he was someone from work..who got off on a technicality for three homicides. They only cared that he was a nice enough looking man!” Rita nearly howled at that,

“You brought a fucking serial killer to your house on Christmas?!”

“It wasn’t my house!” You shrugged, “besides, you always told me they’re much more likely to go after the D.A’s not those defending them.”

“I didn’t mean they were okay to bring home to mom and dad!” She countered, a laugh echoing through the room as she perched herself on the side of your desk. You let out a hefty sigh,

“I’m just at the point where I honestly don’t give a fuck. I don’t want to go home at all but if I don’t, I’ll have my brother at my goddamn door on Christmas Eve ready to drive me up to Danbury no questions asked. I just..want to piss them off past no belief. Bring someone home who they don’t expect, even if it’s not real, just fuck them up enough they’ll finally shut up for a few years.”

“Have you ever brought home a woman?” She asked.

“Yes. I tried that. They know I’ve fought for years that I much prefer women, they just don’t seem to get it. The last girl I brought home they were convinced was just my friend. Though she was too chicken for any amount of P.D.A, I don’t even know if she was out to her family. Clearly that one didn’t last too long.” You rolled your eyes again as Rita chuckled.

“Well…what about someone substantially older than you?”

“Rita,” you laughed, “I think all the men from sugar daddy apps have their own families to be with on Christmas.”

“I have no obligation to see mine.” Your head cocked as you looked up at her, a brow raised.

“Are you offering to come with me?”

“All you have to do is ask.” She smirked. You dropped your pen, cupping one of her hands in yours as you gave her the best fake puppy dog eyes you could muster.

“Rita Calhoun, will you be my fake girlfriend this Christmas to piss of my horribly fucking annoying family?”

“I’d love to.” You laughed when she bent forward, kissing your head playfully before hopping off your desk, “You’re in luck too, I’m a high upgrade from a convicted serial killer.”

“Not convicted! I got him off.”

“I’m sure you did.”

“Not like that!” She cackled as she dodged the stapler you hucked at her, safely escaping your office.

*

“You sure you’re fine not seeing your family?” You asked, eyes trained on the road.

“I am more than okay with it.” Rita replied, “This will be far more entertaining than sitting around being asked when I’m going to finally have a kid and being told that time’s starting to run out.”

“Oh God, this shit never ends, does it?” You glanced over at her, noting the laugh on her face.

“It really doesn’t. And I am more than content just being Aunt Rita.”

“Yeah you can mark me down for staying as the fun wine Aunt any day.” The other woman chuckled at your remark.

“How many kids are going to be there today?”

“Two. Cassy’s six, Maggie just turned one. Both my younger sister’s kids, my brother’s the baby of the family and somehow gets out of the constant questioning of when he’s settling down. They’re good kids, I mean…the baby’s…”

“A baby?”

“Exactly. I mean, she’ll be walking now…I think? Fuck if I know how kids work.” You laughed, “It was horrible last year, like, no..I don’t want to hold her, she looks like an alien. Can I please have more wine?”

“Agreed completely.”

The conversation varied between a few other things, you ran over any basics of your family, how Christmas dinner was usually structured. The drive was just over an hour, but the roads were already starting to turn, it’d been snowing since noon and honestly part of you was praying it would get worse and you could bail before you even got there. Then again, you’d miss out on the fun that was torturing your parents with this whole façade.

You pulled into the driveway behind the car that you knew was your brother’s, knowing his plan was usually to drink heavily and crash in his old room. Since you knew the weather wasn’t going to be great, (and while your little Toyota did just fine in the city when you needed it, it didn’t deal well with highways full of snow) you’d suggested bringing overnight bags just in case. You grabbed your bag, along with the bag nearly overflowing with presents and head Rita to the door, thankful it was unlocked and you wouldn’t need to deal with keys.

“Hi!” You called into the house, dumping your bag in the sitting room off to the right, motioning for Rita to follow suit. Kicking off your shoes you heard a pattering of small feet as you started undoing your coat.

“Auntie!” Cassy yelped in glee as she raced towards you, hands outstretched. You were lucky enough you caught her wrists in time, stopping her half a foot away thanks to the icing nearly coating her hands.

“Woah…let’s keep those sticky hands away from the Prada, baby.” You plopped a kiss to her head, turning her in your arms, “How about you go wash up and then you’ll get a hug?” Rita chuckled at the entire interaction, knowing she would’ve done the exact same thing. Your brother popped around the corner next, beer already in his hand,

“Hey.” He gave you a one armed hug, a quick kiss on the cheek as he grabbed the presents from you. His eyes moved behind you to Rita, extending a hand, “Patrick.” She gave a quick greeting in reply before he turned back to you, “Mom’s gonna fucking kill you.”

“At this point I’m purposely trying to give her an aneurysm.” You joked, reaching for Rita’s hand as you moved into the vast combo living and dining room.

“Ma! We’re all here now!” Patrick called out, dropping the bag of gifts at the foot of the tree, he shot you a smirk as your Mother called back from the kitchen.

“Oh excellent! Y/N I can’t wait to meet the wonderful young man you’v-“ She cut herself off suddenly as she moved through the kitchen doorway, her eyes landing on you and Rita hand in hand. You giggled softly, wrapping your free arm around Rita’s bicep, snuggling against her briefly before kissing her cheek.

“This is Rita. She’s one of the senior partners at the firm, hell, she’s one of the best defence attorneys in the city.” You redirected your attention to Rita, gesturing “My Mom, Lisa.”

“It’s…so nice to meet you.” Your Mom gave a small smile alongside her greeting.

“Likewise. I’ve heard wonderful things. Thank you so much for having us tonight, I know how hectic the holidays can be.” She smiled softly, “Your daughter is…truly magnificent. I couldn’t ask for anything more.” Turning to you Rita cupped your cheek with her free hand, gently nuzzling against your nose before kissing the tip of it, “She’s an incredible asset to the firm as well, she does fantastic work.”

“Oh stop…” you playfully feigned embarrassment, ducking to kiss her shoulder.

“Well..” Your Mother broke into the moment again, “Drinks?”

“Oh yes please!” You followed her into the kitchen, leaving Rita in the capable hands of your brother to make quick introductions as the rest of the family made their way into the room.

You handed Rita a glass of Pinot as you returned, dropping down onto the couch beside her, kissing her cheek gently. She nuzzled into it, smiling warmly at you before returning back to the conversation, her free hand draped across your thigh with ease. You had to give it to her, she was damn good at this, it was more believable than the actual girlfriend you’d brought a few years back. Though you knew she enjoyed the chaotic ness of the entire thing just as much as you did.

The family socialized and caught up for a bit while your parents finished up dinner, your Dad popping in to greet your ‘girlfriend’ briefly before turning back to the kitchen. There were a few offers to help, but the only one they took was for your brother to come carve the turkey once it was done. Drinks were flowing and the festive mood easily sunk into the room as the group moved from the living room to the dining room table, multiple comments about how everything looked and smelt wonderful spoken through the room. The clattering of dishes and muted conversation took over as the food was passed around the table before everyone was settled in beginning to eat.

“So, Rita.” Your father began, both of your faces glancing up towards the man, “I hear you work with y/n at the firm?”

“Yes.” She smiled softly, glancing back to you quickly with warmth in her eyes, “It’s how we met.”

“How long have you been practicing law?”

“Long enough.” She shot you a wink you were barely able to hold back a giggle, the act in full play now.

“What made you want to start with the defence?” Your Mother asked, you rolled your eyes and shot a look at Patrick, she’d always been fighting you on your choice.

“Oh I actually started with the prosecution.” Her free hand squeezed at yours on the table as her attention turned back to you, “I commend y/n for diving right into the deep end, not a lot of people can handle it and she does absolutely incredible.”

“I just don’t know how you do it, I mean, standing up for criminals-“ You couldn’t help but cut your Mom off.

“Really? Cause that’s not how you felt when one was sitting at your dinner table Mom.”

“Oh sweetheart he wasn’t convicted, you said so yourself.” You snorted,

“That just means I did a damn good job, it doesn’t mean he wasn’t guilty.” You shot a glare toward her, “You gave a literal criminal your best behaviour without giving him the second degree and I’d appreciate if you did the same for the woman I love.” You held back the smirk at her near gasp at your drop of the L word, smiling at the way Rita leaned in to kiss the side of your head softly.

Your Mother stopped with the bullshit after that, and instead of the awkward small talk grilling that you knew would normally ensue, the conversation flowed between everyone at the table. You teased your brother relentlessly over a number of things, did your best to listen as the six year old chattered through multiple stories that made zero sense whatsoever, and internally groaned as your brother in law droned on about his car dealership.

Once everyone was finishing up, you and Patrick took on the normal roles of starting to tear down the table. Your sister and Mom wrangled the kids into the living room with promises of chocolates while your Father and brother in law headed outside to indulge in some cigars. You were in the midst of scooping potatoes into multiple Tupperware containers for everyone to take home when Patrick popped up beside you.

“So…what’s the deal here? You guys are just friends…or fuck buddies…and you wanted to screw with Mom?”

“Oh my God Pat!” You rolled your eyes, rinsing out the dish before putting in the dishwasher, “What, you wanna know cause you wanna take her home?”

“I mean…she’s hot.” You smacked him with a spatula, a look of disgust on your face.

“Patrick! Stop! Not gonna happen!”

“So you are actually together?” He smirked as you shot him a glare.

“Darling is he hassling you?” Rita’s voice broke through the kitchen, she gently wrapped her arms around you as you dolled out stuffing into containers, kissing the back of your neck.

“No…” you turned in her arms, your voice lowering so no one would overhear “and honestly, you can drop the act in front of Pat.” You turned to your brother, “cause if he even so much as hints to it being fake I’ll tell Mom about the three separate abortions he paid for this year.”

“You wouldn’t!”

“You know I would!” Before he could rertort, or before Rita’s arms dropped from your waist your Mom popped into the kitchen,

“When you’re done with that will you be a dear and bring some refills out?”

“Pat’s on it!” You called back, shooting him a glare. He scowled at you, knowing you weren’t about to let up on your threat, and knowing you…you had the reciepts to prove it. He wasn’t about to try and fight it out with a criminal lawyer. You let out a quiet groan, your head dropping to Rita’s shoulder briefly, “I’m so sorry to drag you into this, I should’ve just sucked it up and dealt with it myself.”

“You kidding me?” She chuckled, “We made it through dinner without anyone screaming or making any horrible comments. All things considered this is one the better Christmases I’ve been to, fake or real.”

“Thanks.” You gave her a soft smile, turning back to the counter as she moved beside you.

“You need any help?”

“That’d be great.” You slid her the empty stuffing bowl, “if you can toss these in the dishwasher, rinse it if it needs it.”

“‘Course.” She shot you a smile as you picked up the dish of carrots, dolling portions out between the containers. When the two of you had finished you refilled your wine glasses with a heavy hand, Rita shooting you a knowing glance as she grasped your hand once again before entering the living room.

Cassy basically cheered, knowing it was present time once everyone was back all together. Your hand brushed Rita’s hair over her shoulder as you relaxed back agaisnt the couch, making sure it didn’t get trapped. Your fingers softly tracing the side of her cheek before her lips gently met your palm, the look of fake adoration in her eyes. The longer the night went on the more you realized how much acting really was part of a defence attorney’s job. You were impressed by both of your performances, realizing how similar it was to convince a jury a perp was innocent or convince your family you were in a relationship.

Most of the presents were for the kids, a few gift cards or specifically asked for things for the adults. Your parents always said they never wanted anything so they ended up with a few bottles of wine or bourbon that usually got indulged into that evening. Your arm was wrapped around Rita’s shoulder, your hand softly stroking her arm as conversation flowed between everyone as the kids explored their presents. You shifted slightly, curling your legs under yourself as you leant into Rita’s embrace, kissing her shoulder softly right before she kissed your forehead, your older sister making a quiet comment about how adorable you were.

You could practically feel your parents tensing at how comfortable you were around each other, realizing that they weren’t exactly going to get rid of Rita anytime soon. The family tradition was to watch the live action Grinch, Cassy’s favourite, once presents were done and you sunk even deeper into the couch, humming over a sip of wine as the movie started.

Not surprisingly, Cassy passed out halfway through, snoring gently in a turkey and sugar induced coma. Your sister was already snuggling the baby against her chest, and you knew your Dad was about two minutes away from waking everyone up with his snoring from the lounger. As your sister started to wrangle everyone up you nudged Rita softly, mentioning that you should head out.

That was of course until the door was opened, the thick blanket of snow that had been there when you arrived increased by at least a foot. You let out a hefty sigh, your brother in law had an huge SUV with four wheel drive..and they still lived in town, they’d have no problem getting home. But..as suspected, you were trapped, at least overnight. Your parents said goodbye to those who were leaving, and then quickly said goodnight to the remaining three of you before heading upstairs.

“Rumple?” Patrick turned to you, a daring look in his eye already.

“Really?” You rolled your eyes, “You can’t seriously still be drinking that shit.”

“Oh come on! It’s tradition, he dragged you over to the liquor cabinet, “two shots each, that was the deal.” You shot Rita a sympathetic glance as your brother pulled out shot glasses.

“Fine. But then you’re on your own, we’re going to bed.”

“Fine with me.” He grinned sliding two full shot glasses over to each of you, “Merry Christmas.” The three of you cheersed the first round before throwing it back, a series of grimaces as the liquor burned down your throats. Patrick chuckled as he instantly picked up the second glass, causing the two of you to curse at him, doing your best to toss back the second shot. You grabbed his hand as it moved back to the bottle,

“No! I said two was the deal. You do whatever you want, but it’s bedtime for the grown ups.” He laughed, moving back to the table where he grabbed the open bottle of wine.

“Fine…but you’re missing out.”

“Sure…” you teased, “on watching my idiot brother get so drunk he pukes at our parents house at the tender age of twenty nine…sounds great.” Rita outwardly laughed at that, the smile remaining on her face as you grasped at her hand, moving her from the living room. You grabbed your bags from the sitting room, leading her upstairs to your bedroom.

You were ever so blessed that your childhood room hadn’t held onto all of its nostalgia, your parents converting it mainly into a guest room, especially since you did your best to not come home. The twin bed replaced with a gorgeous queen, the boy band posters replaced with a few pieces of tasteful art.

“This is…surprisingly nice.” Rita joked, smiling back at you, causing you to laugh.

“The perks of being the black sheep, I get the nicely done guest room while Patrick’s stuck sleeping in a twin bed with ninja turtle sheets.” She laughed as you flicked on the bedside lamp, moving back to shut the bedroom door.

“You know…your family’s less chaotic than I thought.” She began as you moved into the en-suite, shrugging out of your cardigan, “I mean..your brother could definitely be an issue, but there weren’t any huge fights.” You returned to the doorframe, makeup wipe in your hand,

“That doesn’t mean they didn’t expect a man to show up with me that they could try to force on me.” You barely noticed Rita’s eyes flashing up quickly above you back to you gaze,

“It certainly doesn’t….” she smirked, “your room’s been booby trapped.” Your face scrunched at her before you glanced upwards, spying the mistle toe pinned to the ceiling. You cocked a brow at her, noticing the innocent gleam in her eye,

“I mean..it is tradition..”

“If you insist.” She smirked, taking the half step to close the space between you. Your breath hitched as her lips met yours. The kiss was gentle, a test of the waters, your lips moving with grace as your arms wrapped around her waist, pulling you to her. You practically moaned against her mouth as her teeth nipped at your lower lip, the sensation shooting through your body before you lightly pulled away.

“You know…” You raised a brow as your hands trailed down her arms, “I can think of another thing that would definitely piss of my parents.”

“Is that so?” You gave a knowing nod before letting out a soft moan, a soft ‘oh fuck’ barely echoing through the room. “Oh darling….” Rita smirked, “I know you can do better than that.”

“Why don’t you make me?” She chuckled at your bratty response, her lips kissing down your neck, teeth nipping at your skin as your hands grasped at her sweater, the noises coming out of already more than your fake ones. Her hand cupped your chin, brining your gaze back to hers, “but only if you want it.”

“I do.” You barely got the words out before launching against her, your lips crashing against hers with ferocity.

Your hands moved swiftly, tugging at every inch of fabric covering the others skin before you dropped into Rita’s lap on the bed. Your hands trailed up her sides, cupping her chest, a groan escaping your lips as her mouth wrapped around one of yours, whining at the feel of her teeth scraping against your nipple. Your hand dug into the roots of her hair, pulling tightly resulting in a moan from the other woman as you felt a hand trail down your body, toying with the hem of your panties. You managed to pull yourself away from her glorious mouth, barely able to clamber off her lap,

“Wait…” She gave you a confused look as you nearly stumbled to your closet, digging through a few piles before you returned with a shoebox, “help yourself.” You smirked, dropping into her lap again.

“You keep sex toys at your parent’s house?” She teased.

“My family’s stressful!” You swatted at her shoulder, “and this is the easiest way to beat stress.” Rita kissed you softly, though nearly sucking the sass out of you as you chased her lips when she pulled away.

“Well, I can help you with that darling…” You watched as one of her hands dug through the limited box for a moment before the other gently closed around your jaw, redirecting your attention to her face, “eyes here.”

A smirk splayed across your lips as the two of you continued to play for power, your lips kissing down her jaw, teeth gently biting across her neck, relishing in the soft whimpers she let out before her free hand shoved down your panties.

“You better be good for me..” Rita’s lips pecked soft kisses across your chest, your cheeks your lips, you could barely contain yourself, the tantalizing feeling of her hands tracing along your bare skin torturing you before her hand finally fell between your legs.

You practically buried yourself into her shoulder as her hand cupped your heat, a groan louder than you expected leaving your lips as the tips of her fingers ever so slowly swiped throug your folds. You nearly shuddered against her as she circled your clit with your juices, wrapping your arms tighter around her neck, thrusting your hips toward her hand.

“So needy sweetheart…” she murmured, nipping at your earlobe, “you want to fuck my fingers?”

“Yes…” you breathed out, probably too quickly, “yes please.”

“All you had to do was ask darling.” Rita’s lips softly hit your shoulder as her fingers delved into your folds again. A solo digit sunk into your heat, the two of you both groaning at the feeling. You were lost in a sense of euphoria as Rita slowly began to plunge in and out of you, easily adding a second digit, curling to hit the spongey spot inside of you.

She on the other hand felt your breath picking up at the feeling of your pussy clenching around her, the sounds you were making ever so clear that you were having the time of your fucking life with simply two fingers. You started to lift your hips up, rolling them back down against her hand while you braced yourself on her shoulders, your pace increasing while your nails dug into her skin more and your moans increased volume. At this point you weren’t thinking about anything but how wonderful Rita’s hand felt against you, how badly you wanted to make her feel the same.

A loud gasp left your lips as you realized what she’d grabbed from the toy box, a small vibe that fit as a ring wrapped around her thumb . Though the vibe itself wasn’t what was doing it, it was the way she moved it on your clit, rotating positions and patterns as her fingers continued to pump inside of you, her mouth swallowing as many of your yelps as she could, her own groans escaping as you found your teeth burning into her skin. You shuddered heavily against her, doing your best to muffle your cries into her shoulder as you jolted away from the vibe. You felt the fire within you burst like never before, a rush of juices practically shooting from your cunt.

It took a few moments, Rita letting you calm down before she pulled her fingers from you. Your hand shot out, grasping her wrist in your hand, bringing her dripping fingers to your lips, your eyes not straying from hers as you sucked them clean.

With barely a second to think, you battled for dominance, flipping Rita fully onto the bed, tugging her pants down as you crawled down her body, leaving a trail of wet kisses in your wake. You nippled heavily at her inner thigh, she nearly swatted at your hand before your tongue swiped through her pussy. You sunk yourself in faster than you could imagine, sucking out the juices easily, smirking against her at the fact that getting you off turned her on this much. Your mouth fucked her with ease, grinning as the soft moans she let out, the way her hands clenched into your hair. You moved your lips up to her clit, knowing it wouldn’t take long now, tongue flicking against the swollen nub as you slipped a finger in, curling just where she needed it. Rita let out the best of a quiet yelp as her thighs quaked around you, her breath panting heavily. You softly kissed her thigh, trailing yourself up her body until you collapsed beside her, kissing her shoulder softly, humming in appreciation as her lips hit your head.

“Safe to say I have no complaints about this Christmas.” Rita laughed at your remark, curling around your body.

“Neither do I.” Her lips hit your bare shoulder softly before you bid each other good night, easily drifting off.

*

You awoke the next morning to the feeling of tingling up and down your side, the touch trailing down your waist, your hips nearly rolling at the ghost of a touch. When you felt the arm around you, rolling you to face them, you remembered, cracking your eyes open at Rita, a smirk on her face as her hands traced your still naked form.

“Morning.” You murmured, she smiled back at you, pecking you gently.

“I’d hoped I’d get to wake you up with this.”

“Hmm..” your hands buried into her hair as her lips traced a path down your body, “With wha-“ You were suddenly cut off at the feel of her mouth against your lower lips. You couldn’t help the moan that left your mouth, holy shit did she know what she was doing. Rita’s tongue swiped through your cunt, lapping at your juices, her lips wrapping around your clit as her fingers toyed with your g spot. Your whimpers did their best to stay quiet as your hips thrusted up, doing your best to keep from fucking her face. You felt electrified, the coil in you building faster than ever, your hips shot up off the bed, your free hand clamping over your mouth as your practically shrieked against it. Your body vibrating on the mattress, Rita gave a soft kiss to your stomach before dropping on the bed beside you.

“Best breakfast I’ve ever had.” You laughed, smacking her hip, still unable to form words, taking a few more minutes of heaving breath before you spoke.

“Fuck Rita….” You rolled your head to face her, “you’re really fucking good at that.”

“So I hear.” You both laughed at her response. You slowly sat up, crossing to the window as you pulled the curtains back.

“Looks like it’s mainly melted. You wanna shower here or just head back to the city?”

“I know how much you want to get out of here, let’s go.”

“And this is why you’re my favourite.” You laughed, kissing her cheek quickly while the two of you moved throughout the room, tossing each other clothes until you were fully dressed.

You half jogged down the stairs, collecting everything you needed. Rita thanked your parents again for having her before they disappeared to the family room. You plucked a fresh pop tart straight out of Patrick’s hand yelling something about a happy new year while he turned towards the door,

“Doesn’t your girlfriend want breakfast?” He shot to back to you.

“Oh I already ate, don’t worry about it.” She smirked in response.

Confusion took over your brother’s face in the time it took the two of you to dart out of the house, laughing at what you knew would be his reaction.

Christmas this year certainly was a successful one, even if it was unconventional.

_____ @natasha-danvers @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @whispered-tear-drops @wannabe-fic-reader @oliviaswifey @nocreditinthestraightworld @cmmndrwidw @bumblebear30 @jamiethetrans @molllss @wosoimagines @australiancarisi @cerberus-spectre @addictedtodinosaurs @disn3y7 @hbkpop @samwithnoplan @multifandomlesbianic @muscatmusic18 @ladysc @alexusonfire @season4scullyhair @lannister-slings-and-arrows @1-lindsay83 @mmemalwa @ms-calhoun @holycrapraewth

[holy-hyuck]

NCT Dream Reaction: They See You Wearing Their Clothes

warning: there’s like a swear word or two in jaemin’s

by the way, would you guys want me to add shotaro and sungchan as a bonus into these since they’re not in a permanent unit yet?

also no, i absolutely do not have a crush on jaemin, what are you talking about?

Mark

It was so cold, so unbelievably cold in Mark’s apartment. You told him to fix the heating but he’s been too busy binging Netflix to bother. Shivering in your thin tee, you rummaged through Mark’s closet for something warm to wear. If he wasn’t going to get the heating sorted, you were going to steal every last one of his hoodies until he had no other choice.

Throwing the black, oversized hoodie over your head, you made your way downstairs and plopped on the couch beside him, making him turn his attention away from the TV screen and towards you.

“Is that my- Is that my hoodie?”

“Yes, it is. Actually, it’s now mine, at least until you get the heating fixed.” You crossed your arms over your chest and raised an eyebrow at your boyfriend.

Laughing, he threw his arms around you and started mumbling into your neck.

“Gosh, you’re so cute, you have no idea.”

You let out a whine, surrendering. This was not how this was supposed to go.

Renjun

You stayed over at the Dreamies’ dorm with the intent of catching up with them since their busy schedule meant you barely saw them - especially your boyfriend. A sleepover and a movie night seemed like a great idea.

The boys already had a table stacked with snacks and drinks.

You made the awful decision of wearing denim shorts, which meant twisting and turning for the first thirty minutes of the first movie Jeno picked until he had to go to the toilet and you paused it.

“Are you okay?” Jaemin asked, seeing your discomfort.

You shook your head, looking over at your boyfriend. “Do you have anything comfortable I could wear?” you asked, a puppy-like look on your face (or at least an attempted one), and he obliged, bringing you a pair of his sweatpants.

Once Jeno exited the toilet, you changed into your boyfriend’s clothes, coming back into the living room. Upon seeing you, Renjun burst into laughter, the already slightly baggy (on him) sweatpants completely drowning out your legs so it looked like you were wearing a trash bag over them.

“Y-You l-look great-”

He managed between laughs, covering his face, his head falling back into the couch cushions as he nearly fell on Jaemin. He was hoping his hand also covered his blush because - although he wasn’t sure what exactly it was - something about you wearing his clothes made him feel fuzzy inside and he hoped to see you in them again - just maybe in different circumstances.

Jeno

Out on the beach with your friends was the best way you could think of to spend the last weekend off before school. You sat on the sand, watching Yeri and Jaemin splash each other with water, their swimming suits soaked. They've been at it for the past fifteen minutes, and it all started because Jaemin drank one espresso too much and threw Yeri into the water.

You sat next to Jeno, both of you watching your friends laugh, and next to him sat Renjun, who typed on his phone like his life depended on it. You and Jeno didn't speak much; you were a bit awkward around each other, you'll admit, but that's only because two months ago, you kissed during a game of spin the bottle, and it was a little more heated than you would like, and now maybe, just maybe, you've developed a crush on the black-haired boy.

It was weird - you've known him for three years, and never looked at him that way. Only after the kiss, you started seeing him as this handsome guy with crescent-shaped eyes when he smiled, and not just a friend who wasn't ugly.

Your two friends finally got out of the water, making their way to their towels and drying themselves off. You shivered, the evening weather finally catching up to you. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you rubbed the skin harshly, hoping to generate some heat, and hoping you'll be making your way back home soon.

Renjun noticed this and shoved Jeno with his elbow, gesturing to you. When Jeno gave him a confused look, he rolled his eyes and started tugging on Jeno's jacket in an attempt to take it off. They had a little fight to the right of you, but you were none the wiser and ignored them until Jeno cleared his throat. You looked in his direction to see him taking off his jacket and draping it across your shoulders before giving you a small smile.

"You looked like you needed it."

You smiled at him. "Thank you." Both of you looked at the sand beneath your feet, heat rising to your cheeks.

To your left, Jaemin and Yeri exchanged a look and simultaneously rolled their eyes. You were both so goddamn oblivious.

Haechan / Donghyuck

You clipped your hair back with the lonely bobby pin in your pocket, pulling the jacket around you tighter to brace yourself for the ruthless winds outside. Exiting the shop with Donghyuck by your side, you picked up your pace to make it home before it became any colder or windier - which it did, a minute into your journey.

The wind made your eyes water and you shrunk yourself, head down, ignoring your boyfriend, who began failing to catch up to you.

Suddenly, you felt something warm wrap around your neck and turned around to find your boyfriend securing his scarf around it, unzipping your jacket to tuck it underneath, then zipping it back up. It left his neck exposed due to the low-cut t-shirt he wore under his leather jacket, and you frowned at the sight of it, opening your mouth to protest before he interrupted you.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine. You look like you need it more than me.”

Wrapping his arm around you, thus offering you even more of his body’s warmth, he led you towards his apartment, where he made you hot cocoa and cuddled you until you felt warm again.

You still didn’t take off his scarf, and he never asked for it back.

Jaemin

Maybe you didn't remember much from last night, however, when you woke up with a white, oversized denim jacket hanging from your desk chair, you were reminded of Jaemin - a loud and charming boy from one of your classes - lending you the covering after he walked you home after one too many drinks. In your defence, you bet with your friend that you could handle more shots than her, and won (the vomiting-in-the-garden part doesn't matter).

You got ready and rushed into your lecture hall, sitting somewhere in the middle and eyeing the students to spot the black-haired boy. When you managed to finally do so, he was already talking to one of his best friends, and the professor had started the lecture.

At the end of the lecture, you went up to Jaemin, who again, had busied himself talking to his friend. But when the other boy, Lee Jeno, saw you, he slapped Jaemin across the chest to get his attention.

Finally, Jaemin turned to you, taking a second or two to take in your appearance, his denim jacket hanging loosely on your shoulders. He almost laughed, his smile getting bigger than you've ever seen it. In the background, Jeno was laughing his ass off at Jaemin's reaction.

You cleared your throat. "Sorry, I just saw it on my chair today. It's yours right?" You took the jacket off of you and handed it to him once the boy nodded his head. "Thanks for last night, I don't know how I've survived but you certainly made it easier. Anyway, I'll see you later. You too, Jeno."

The older boy waved his hand at you and walked to Jaemin as the two of them watched you leave. "They looked good, huh?"

Jaemin looked to Jeno and smiled. "Fucking gorgeous."

Chenle

You may or may not have gotten too comfortable during your last few weeks of university, wearing sweatpants and a hoodie every day around your house, only swapping out the bottoms for a pair of jeans when going out. Honestly, you couldn't even remember the last time you put any effort into your appearance.

However, the dreadful day came when you had to meet Chenle's friends. You weren't dating for long, only a couple of weeks at most, so you felt the need to impress both them and your boyfriend. Thankfully, the plan to go to an amusement park were cancelled and swapped out for a movie night, so you felt okay with throwing on a hoodie and calling it a day. Spotting a bright blue coloured one in the corner of your bed, and realising it's Chenle's, you quickly pulled it over your head and rushed out of your house after realising you were late.

You were shaking the whole way to Jisung's house, hoping to calm down by the time you got there. He graciously let you inside and introduced you to two other guys and a girl, and you hoped they would spare you the embarrassment of wiping their hands after touching your sweaty palm.

"I like your hoodie," the girl said.

"Oh, thank you. It's Chenle's, actually," you replied after a beat. "Um, where is he?" You looked around, unable to spot the blond boy.

Suddenly, you heard a high-pitched scream coming from your right, an exclamation of "cute!" yelled your way, right before being tackled to the ground by the man-child in question. He pulled the hood over your head and grinned down at you.

"I'm guessing you like it?"

Jisung

Grabbing a book off Jisung's bedside table, you plopped on his bed with nothing but his thick, blue robe on. Admittedly, it was warm and cosy; definitely something you would have to steal. You skimmed through some of the pages of the history textbook before becoming bored and chucking it next to you.

Standing up from the mattress, you wandered around his room, waiting until he finished his shower.

"Hey, have you seen my-" Jisung came out of the bathroom, holding a towel to his chest, "-robe?"

He sighed, looking at you in his garment as you smiled like the Cheshire cat.

"Can I have that back?"

You skidded across the room to stand in front of him, going on your tip-toes and giving him a peck on the lips. "Nope."

Jisung shook his head at your antics before going to change into some clothes.

[beels-burger-babe]

Storm Clouds on a Sunny Day

***Oooooo Teen!MC! Thank you for the request @lovevictoire! Now, although I think I'm technically Gen z??? (I could be a millennial. I have no idea). I have like 0 sense of most pop culture and probably won't be able to write that classic gen z chaotic humour properly, so I'm not going to attempt. What I can do is the hurt/comfort aspect of this which I LOVE! So, let's do this. I hope you enjoy it. ((Oh and before I forget *hugs*))***

Summary: MC has always been a happy positive ray of light that brought joy with them wherever they went; at least that's what the brothers and the other exchange students would tell you. But when they suddenly start getting quiet and begin isolating themselves, everyone is concerned.

TW: descriptions of grief.

In the darkness of the Devildom, you were the sun.

Since arriving in the dark, cruel world of the demons, you had reminded them how to smile, how to laugh, how to love. With you around, it was like the brothers had another sibling again. For the other exchange students, you were a breath of fresh amongst all the horror and despair of the Devildom.

In short, everyone had come to love and be incredibly fond of the teenage human that; which is why they noticed instantly when you weren't acting like yourself.

For starters, you had skipped breakfast, which greatly concerned Beel. The friendly giant had to go up and bring you your food afterwards.

He gently knocked on your door with one hand as he held a plate with way too much food on it in the other. "MC? Are you awake? You missed breakfast."

There was a small curse from the other side before he heard some shuffling. The door cracked open to reveal you wrapped in a bundle of blankets. It wasn't until you looked up that Beel got a good look at your face and his stomach dropped.

Your eyes were tinged red with tear tracks stained onto your cheeks. Your bottom lip was still trembling from the effort of not breaking down into sobs. There was not a trace of the sunshine child that you usually were inside of your stormy sad eyes.

Beel's heart broke as you still attempted to give him a small smile and took the plate from him. "Th-Thanks Beel."

He kept a hand on the door to prevent you from closing it. "MC, are you alright? What happened?"

Your eyes widened a little and you quickly wiped at your cheeks. "I-I'm just not feeling that well. Can...Can you tell Lucifer I'm taking a sick day?"

Beel nodded as concern grew stronger and stronger inside of him. "Of course. Whatever you need."

You weren't actually sick, Beel could tell that much. What you were was heartbroken. Something had reached into your soul and shattered it into pieces. He to ask you what it was. He wanted to reassure you that everything would be okay. But instead, he let you close the door and hurried back to his brothers.

His brothers looked at him skeptically as he arrived, noting the lack of a tiny human alongside him. It was Belphie, however, who noticed the distressed look on Beelzebub's face. "Beel, is everything alright? You look upset."

Beel simply shook his head and looked over to Lucifer. "MC has asked me to tell you that they would like to take a sick day."

Everyone was instantly on their feet in worry.

"Sick? What kind of illness? I can get any medicine they might need and look up the quickest way for them to recover." Satan quickly stated as he began to move towards the kitchen.

Belphie nodded and picked up his pillow. "If they're sick, they'll need rest right? I'll go up there and help them sleep better."

Mammon moved to go with Belphie. "I'll come with ya. They'll feel better with if their favourite's there with them."

Belphie growled and shoved Mammon as Levi spoke up. "I-I mean, I doubt they'd want to spend the entire day with me, but at the very least I can provide them with some movies and games for entertainment. In fact, it might be easier if we just, um, m-move them to my room."

Mammon and Belphie were now snapping at Levi rather than each other.

Asmo scrunched up his nose in disgust and put up his hands. "Yeah, no thanks. I love MC, but I'll leave you guys to handle all the snot and vomit thank you very much. Tell them when they're healthy, I'll give them a spa day, just the two of us."

Lucifer sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Boys, Beel hadn't even told us what is wrong with them yet," everyone froze and turned to Beelzebub. Lucifer nodded and gestured for him to continue. "As you were saying, Beel."

Beel shifted uncomfortably at the attention. "Right. So, I don't think they're actually sick."

Lucifer rose an eyebrow at this as an air of defence grew around him. "You think they would lie?"

Beel huffed in annoyance and shook his head. "No. I don't think they would. But when they answered the door, they didn't look sick. They looked like they were grieving," everyone breathed in sharply at the statement, but Beel continued. "They honestly looked like they had been crying since midnight. I wouldn't be surprised if they didn't get any sleep at all last night."

Lucifer frowned and finally made a move towards the door. "I, and I alone, will go speak with them. We don't want to overcrowd them. In the meantime, someone please contact Simeon just in case they truly are sick and Beel misinterpreted it," he ignored the several shouts of protest as he walked to your room.

He knocked softly on the door twice before carefully opening the door. "MC? Beelzebub informed me that you aren't feeling-"

Lucifer cut himself off as he saw you hugging your knees to your chest in bed, sobbing your heart out. He quickly made his way over and sat down beside you, gently placing a hand on your back. "MC, what's the matter? I've never seen you this upset before."

You didn't answer. You merely turned towards him and buried your face in his chest as you clung to his shirt. Lucifer quickly wrapped his arms around you and held you tight.

It was almost as if he could feel your sorrow within the sounds of your cries. The way they shuttered and cracked with every inhale and vibrated with pure agony on every exhale. You were trembling violently in his arms in a way that he hadn't felt since-

Since he held his brothers after Lilith's death.

Realization came to him as he glanced over and noticed the lightly crumped picture of you and another human on your side table. His breath caught in his throat and he held you tighter. "Oh MC," he whispered softly. "I am so sorry."

He held you there, letting your tears stain his shirt without a single care. He held you as your sobs softened into sniffles. He held you as your head lolled to the side and you finally gave in to sleep.

Lucifer had been about to fall asleep himself when he noticed the door open. Simeon, Luke and Solomon stood there with equal expressions of concern.

Luke took one look at your tear-stained face before a flicker of fury and angelic protectiveness flashed across his face. He opened his mouth to shout at Lucifer, but was stopped as a hand came over his mouth.

Solomon looked down at him sternly. "They're sleeping, Luke, and clearly in need of it. You don't want to wake them."

Luke huffed and slapped Solomon's hand away before going over to the bed and climbing in beside you and Lucifer.

Simeon pulled out a bag that clinked and clattered from the vials within it. "Satan had said that there was a possibility MC was ill?"

Lucifer sighed and continued to rub circles into your back while Luke gently dried your face with a handkerchief. "Unfortunately it seems the only illness they have is a broken heart." He nodded to the picture on the nightstand. "They appear to have lost someone. Today must be an anniversary of some sort that reminded them of it."

Both Solomon and Simeon's faces softened at the explanation. Simeon put the bag away. "I'm afraid I don't have anything that can help with that."

Solomon nodded. "It's a feeling I believe we are all familiar with," he stood in silent thought before snapping his fingers and grinning. "I know what will cheer them up! Some soup! It most certainly cheers me up whenever I'm upset. I'll go make them a pot right away," he smiled proudly as he left the room, missing the look of horror on everyone else's face.

"Oh my," Simeon began, "I better go supervise and make sure he doesn't accidentally poison them. Luke, do you wish to come?"

He shook his head and hugged you. "I'm not leaving them."

Simeon smiled fondly and glanced up to Lucifer who shrugged. "So long as he doesn't mind being the presence of a demon, I suppose he can stay."

Luke grumbled and continued looking at your hand as he held his up to it and compared sizes. "If they were able to fall asleep around you and you were able to comfort them...maybe you're not so bad."

Simeon raised an eyebrow in shock and laughed a little. "Well there you have it," he looked back to Lucifer. "I'll be in the kitchen if you need anything."

He nodded and watched the older angel leave.

@thegrimgrinningghost

Although the day was a rough one for you, there was not a second where you felt alone. There was always someone to hold you, to listen to you, and comfort you when you needed it most.

On days when sadness and despair threatened to cloud over the Devildom's only source of sunshine, the lords of the Devildom and your friends would be there to keep you warm until the sun could shine again.

***I hope you enjoyed this cute little comfort fic! Thanks again for the request @lovevictoire!***

TAGLIST

@henry-and-the-seven-lords

@satans-beloved-riv

@cosmixbun

@sufzku

[annemagus]

natural love potion; h.p.

Pairing: harry potter x fem!Gryffindor!reader Timeline: HBP / 6th year Warning(s): cussing, mentions of dying and blood, submission, reader pining Word Count: 5k

A/N: Hey there! This is my first ever post. I would love to hear your thoughts!

Harry and Y/N are friends. Just friends. Much like Harry and Hermione, there is nothing out of it that is going on between them. Not until that day in potions.

—

“Are you done with my potion?“

“You mean, will Professor Slughorn call you by your name? Then yes, Wallenby.“

It was the first week of another year at Hogwarts. New faces, new prefects and even new professors are introduced, as usual. Professor Slughorn is the newest addition to the faculty and to have a good first impression with the students, he's given the 6th years Amortentia, the love potion, as their first Potions homework.

They were supposed to put it in their selected food or drink and it had to be unnoticeable. Why would the Potions Teacher assign this kind of homework to the students? No one knows. But this certainly gave him a good first impression to a large number of students.

“Blimey Harry, we've been rotten at Potions ever since. Now look at you, it's as if you've taken private lessons with Snape the whole summer. You’re the bloody Potions Master in our year now!“

The two Gryffindors are making their way out of their dorm room towards the Common Room with Harry holding a small basket of cookies to bring it in the dungeons where the potions classroom is at. Y/N is patiently waiting for them near the Portrait as several students greet her along the way.

"G'morning."

“Where’s ‘Mione?“ Ron exclaimed without even acknowledging the girl’s presence.

“Uhm, shouldn't you know that, Mr Prefect?"

The male prefect then realized the time and his supposed agenda to escort first years to the Great Hall. Harry scolded him of how much he and others would kill to be in his position and yet he’s never given it any importance.

“Godric, have mercy on me. Hermione’s gonna kill me!” the redhead exclaimed after getting a playful slap behind his head from the Chosen One before rushing away from the two.

“Much worse than that, she’s gonna make him expelled,“ she jokes with a mouthful of cookie from the small basket Harry was holding. "Mhm, you have no idea how badly I've been craving cookies since last week! This is good, Har. Where’d ya buy it?“ 

Harry, before realizing what happens, freezes. He was too busy lecturing his best friend that he didn't notice a hand sneaking into his potion, the cookie. His hand slowly snakes its way to the contents of the basket that has supposedly four cookies but now has only three. “Y/N!“

"What?" she chuckles dreamily.

"We need to get you to the Hospital Wing."

“What for? You put poison in it, didn't you?“ Y/N continues to chuckle dreamily.

Harry stares at his friend as if she was some peculiar experiment. “How are you feeling, Y/N?“

“I feel like . . .“ she sighs dramatically as she gazes far away, mesmerized. The effects are plainly obvious. “I feel like falling.“

“Falling?“ Harry's stomach twisted. This is what makes Potions classes bothersome, the uncertainty of knowing whether the potion you brew is right or wrong. You can only know it if you’re a professional or by testing the potion done, which in Harry’s case, Y/N would do for him.

"I'm falling in love, Harry. I'm falling in love with you."

And boy was he really the Potions Master.

The raven-haired boy's cheeks got warm the second those words escaped his friend's lips. The two are only friends and have never acted more than that. Seeing this new side of Y/N for Harry is too foreign for him.

Sure, Harry has seen her date two boys from different houses, but being the recipient of her romantic antics has never crossed his path. His last romantical relationship, if you can call it that, was last year with the senior Ravenclaw Cho Chang. Even that didn't go well. He went on a single date with her just to make her believe he's in love with both Hermione and Y/N. Ever since then, he never thought about committing to any romantic relationship.

"Harry . . ." Y/N's hand reached out for his arm, grazing down slowly towards his hand with too much delicacy. Their hands are now intertwined. The both of them have never reached this close proximity, having learned now that one of his best friend's palms are soft but slightly calloused in the fingertips from playing muggle instruments and Harry fears that when Ron finds out about this act, he will tease them nonstop which isn't fair for Y/N. ". . . I know this may sound all too sudden, but, I have loved you ever since."

He didn't respond. He tries to block all of this sudden affection out of his mind knowing these are all artificial.

"Don't you love me back?"

"Of course I do. You're my best frie-"

If his cheeks were warm, now, his ears as well are on fire. Y/N has thrown herself to the flustered boy, locking his neck and face in her arms, squealing in happiness like a kid. Holding hands is a new thing for The Boy Who Lived but hugging him as if to let the world know he's someone's is another thing.

Very few people have ever hugged him in all the history of his 16 years of existence, knowing the story of his parents and the lack thereof. His godfather, Mrs Weasley and Hermione are the only ones — as far as he knows — written in a tiny piece of parchment of the list of people who have hugged him. Yet none of them could compare to this hug as those mentioned acted parental towards him.

Students are now starting to pass them out of the Common Room towards the Great Hall. One of those shouted, "get a room!" They're still standing just beside the Portrait Hole where Ron has left them both to deal with his own romance.

"Uhm, Y/N, why don't we go get ourselves some breakfast first, yes?"

"Yes! Let's tell 'Mione and Ron that we're finally together!"

—

Breakfast was agonizingly slow, to Harry's opinion. Y/N can't stop giggling beside him and feeding him like an infant earning them attention from the others.

"Oi, Potter! Didn't know that you two are . . ."" Seamus makes a kissing face earning a few cackles and sniggers from their other friends at the table.

The boy just ignored them with an eye roll, amusing the two friends in front of him.

"Leave them be, Harry. Besides, when was the time Y/N acted on you this way, huh?" They all diverted their gaze to the dazed girl. Eyebrows knitted in concentration as she feeds him but at the same time doing her best to get as close to Harry as the universe could possibly give her the opportunity to. They've never seen her this in love and affectionate. And the two thought that Harry just deserves it even just for a while. "Never, right? You better make it worthwhile."

"Thanks, Ron. Really helpful." He answered with his famous eye-roll.

"Always here for you, mate "

"I just don't get why we couldn't tell Professor Slughorn immediately. I mean, I'm sure he has something for Y/N. Or Madam Pomfrey-"

"Yeah? In which I'm sure is also your easiest ticket to detention."

The boy grunts some incoherent words of profanities under his breath. Not only was he getting embarrassed by the fact that one of his close friends is acting like his girlfriend but dragging Y/N along with his catastrophic life is just too unfair on her side. She didn't ask for this. Plus, detention in the second week of a new school year doesn't sound good.

The Brightest Witch reminded them not to take Potions lightly. It may sound like not the most helpful subject in a wizarding war, but can get you expelled once meddled with students. In short, what happened to Y/N is very illegal. You should not use or test your Potions project with another student. Plus, Filch will go nuts if he gets the news that a student gave another student a love potion.

“Well, at least, now we know that your Potion worked well.”

"Come on, we're going to be late for DADA."

On their way towards Snape's classroom — a fact Harry still can't accept — Y/N's fingers are interlaced with Harry's as they walk. She's given him her bag as that's what boyfriend and girlfriends do. In the classroom, Y/N didn't sit in her usual spot but literally kicked Ron out of his chair to sit beside Harry, the boy just mouths a sorry.

Her usual focus from the class was now inclined to Harry himself alone the whole class. Out of all their major subjects, Harry is known to have the Defence Against the Dark Arts class on top of it all. Y/N knows it, having been a member of Dumbledore's Army. Everybody knows it. But with Snape being the teacher and Y/N constantly caressing his left cheek every time Snape's back faces them, the said subject is somehow kicked out of its place on top.

"Y/N, do you mind?" He tried but obviously failed to ask her to stop in the nicest way he can utter. "I mean, it'll be really hard for us to pass DADA, and eventually NEWTs, if we're both distracted." His voice is hoarse and soft, one way or another. Afraid to hurt the girl beside him and cause a scene. Letting his former Potions Professor know his mischief doing is the least of his priorities for the day. Merlin, at least, let this day finish without anyone knowing.

"Harry, my love, it's not my fault your eyes are distracting. They're the most beautiful green not even the most beautiful forest in the world could compare to."

Once again, his cheeks and ears are on fire for the 37th time this morning. Most of the reasons are from the nonstop compliments he's receiving from the girl. It didn't take much energy from him to not believe all of it. He grew up with the Dursleys, they didn't fail to engrave in his mind his place and worth.

"Care to share in class what you're chattering about, Mr Potter?" The elder snarled in the middle of his discussion, letters extending out of his tongue as per usual. He finally notices, as always, Harry making another noise across the room.

"Nothing, Professor."

The said Professor narrowed his eyes to the duo. He knows, of course, he knows, he was a bloody Potions Professor ever since he accepted the job offered to him at Hogwarts.

"I'm saying this once and only once," he positioned himself in front of the two, now leaning to the Gryffindor boy to let just the two hear what he'll say. "Fix this, or you will face more vile punishment than getting expelled."

The class was dismissed with 50 points taken from Gryffindor. Harry is used to it, even his other fellow Gryffindors weren't surprised anymore. As a matter of fact, as long as he is breathing, infinite points will be deducted from their house.

As they were heading out of the classroom, Hermione gently peels the zonked out Y/N away from her grasp on the poor boy. "Harry, you can't let the other teachers know about this."

"Well, what do you suggest then?"

The next words that came out of her lips are like caffeine to the sleepy heads of Harry and Ron. They could not believe she could say such things. Even Y/N would have been gobsmacked if she just wasn't in a daze.

"Don't go to classes?" Her tone was laced with uncertainty. But she couldn't think of any other option, she'd rather let them take a day off classes than have Harry nor Y/N expelled.

"Can I come with them?"

— 

Harry Potter's Monday was bizarrely different from his usual ones. He has spent the whole day with Y/N trailing behind him like a baby duck. His hand used to be sweaty the whole time with her's but now, it felt more comforting than awkward interlocked with his.

The castle was quiet, with all the students in class, it gave him privacy and away from the prying eyes of malicious gossipers. They couldn’t get inside the Common Room as some 7th years are hanging there knowing they have fewer classes and more time for reviewing for their NEWTs, library; some teachers roam around there, Hagrid’s Hut; knowing Hagrid, as much as they love the guy, couldn’t keep his mouth shut from secrets.

As much as he dreads going to class all the time, it was strange to see the castle this quiet without Ron’s company.

He was throwing pebbles by the lake to pass time as Y/N sat on the ground behind him, making them their Charms essay homework.

The boy studies her features. Y/N wasn’t so bad. Her hair’s tidier than Hermione’s. She was actually beautiful. He would’ve taken her to the Yule Ball when Ravenclaw Cho Chang declined his invitation and if it wasn’t for that Slytherin bloke asking her out instantly - her first ex-boyfriend who Y/N dated a few months back. Her hair tucked in her ear as she focuses on what to write next in her essay. Harry feels bad for making her write his homework but the girl insisted. Guess you’d do anything for the people you love.

He looks back on the lake. Thinking of the people who have loved him did everything they could to protect him, even dying. First, his parents, then Sirius even Jesus, what did he do to deserve this fate. What good will it be if the people he loves are gone?

Two arms wrapped around his chest from behind startled him.

“You’re tense.” Y/N’s hand unwrapped his bloodied hand. He didn’t even notice he was gripping the stone tightly, his scarlet blood staining the object.

“It’s nothing.“ He cranes his neck to stare at the girl on his right shoulder. Her eyes are full of concern and love. Love that he created out of a goddamn potion for a goddamn homework. A love that could never be compared to the love of his parents and Sirius. A goddamn false love. His brows knitted before jumping out of Y/N’s embrace with panic.

“I think we can go inside now.“

The rest of the day consists of Harry, trying to ignore all of Y/N’s pining over him. He tries to remember that all of these are not her fault, there’s nothing to get mad at her about. Running away from her is also impossible as she committed herself to cling to Harry’s arm as if her life depends on it.

Finally, classes are over and dinner is approaching. The two are reunited with Hermione and Ron in a secluded area of a random hallway, as Harry was hoping to get less attention from other students as they got earlier at breakfast.

“How are the love birds?“ Ron teases, seeing their hands locked still.

“Oh, it was majestic, Ron! Harry took me to the Black Lake even though today was a school day. I feel a little rebellious, to be honest.“

“Good hiding spot.“ Hermione commented.

“I’m not going to the Great Hall for dinner. So you two can bring Y/N instead.“

“No! I’m coming with you!“

“Y/N aren’t you tired of my company yet?“

“I could never! I love you.“

Ron snickered pretty loudly in front of them, even Hermione couldn’t suppress a smile.

“Aren't you two just adorable?” the redhead continues to tease.

“Don’t worry Harry, Ron and I will bring you supper instead.“

The day has finally ended and the effects of the Amortentia, as what the favourite book of Harry says, wears off after 24 hours. It was past Y/N’s get up time but fortunately for them, she took her time sleeping exactly until the effects wore off. 

She moans with pain as she tries to sit up from her bed.

"How are you feeling?"

"'Mione?"

"It's me."

"I feel like a full construction site is inside my head . . . and I feel awful. Like, waking up on the wrong side of the wrong bed."

"Do you feel anything . . . unusual? Like, something or particularly someone you want to obsess about?"

The girl looks at her strangely and then at the time. "Bloody heck Hermione, aren't we late for breakfast?"

Clearly, Y/N remembers none from the incident.

Meanwhile, at the Great Hall, Harry is tapping his leg out of anxiousness. If his Amortentia was too strong and didn’t ease away, he might as well pack his belongings and leave Hogwarts voluntarily. His precious book from the Half-Blood Prince has mentioned the cure for a love potion but the ingredients are only held by the Potions Teacher. The horrors there will be once he mentions this to a teacher is unimaginable, he’d rather spend the day with a dazed Y/N than get lectures from a teacher.

“Don’t worry about your girlfriend, mate,“ Ron’s words are muffled from a chicken leg in between his teeth from across him. “They’re here.“

Across the Hall, the two girls are striding towards their place.

“Why are you at my seat?”

“Uhhh . . .” stammering, Ron glances at Harry for help. They were normally sitting beside each other but after the incident yesterday, they thought Y/N would love to sit next to the Golden Boy. “I-I don’t know either,“ just sliding to his side to make room for the two.

“How are you feeling, Y/N?“ Harry asks the dishevelled looking girl in front of him. Both Hermione and Ron - who are sitting side by side - are listening to the exchange intently.

“Honestly, I feel bad. Like, subconsciously, I know this day would be so bad,” Y/N sighs depressingly. “Why, are you alright?“

“Yeah,” deep inside the boy, a strong wave of relief passed him. His body was cold from the nerves, but knowing his Amortentia had finally worn off, those nerves were showered off of him with a warm relieving feeling. “Actually, I’ve never been better.”

“Well, at least one of us has woken up on the right side of the bed.“ she chuckles half-heartedly. Harry felt guilty hastily after hearing those words. It’s all your fault dipshit.

As Y/N is back to sitting beside Hermione, she is also back to her normal self. Talking to her alone about their Charms homework that she never remembers making and some other random stuff that the boys could not give a care about. She was back to not paying any attention to the Golden Boy at the front who she absentmindedly know is staring at her.

Morning supper was finished and the quartet is now in Snape’s classroom. Y/N was back to sitting beside the cute Hufflepuff guy she's been crushing on and Harry is back stuck with his blabbering best friend.

As Snape discusses some more non-verbal spells and the techniques, he takes time to stop rounding the class in front of Y/N who was again, back to her normal self, her focus never leaving the Teacher. He stares at her, looking past her eyes and seeing that his student’s consciousness is back before trudging towards Harry and Ron.

“10 points from Gryffindor,” he grunted under his breath, which actually is the first compliment Harry has ever received from the elder man.

Classes ended and dinner came, Harry finds himself staring at the girl in front of him. She was talking to Seamus, one of their good friends, chatting and laughing with him as if he'd said the funniest joke ever told. The food on his plate has long been forgotten.

"Quit staring, you creep."

Harry looks back at his best friend beside him with a mixture of confusion. "Don't tell me you think I wouldn't notice."

What the boy was talking about, he has no idea.

"When will you tell Y/N?" Again, he replied with a look. "About the incident, of course."

Harry wasn't planning on ending his friendship with Y/N because of his carelessness. He could've just sealed the cookies in a jar or box so no one could see it, but no. He had to display it for the world to see. Hermione disagrees with his plan, of course.

The three of them found the perfect time to be alone in the common room, students are still chatting and scampering about their day anywhere but their dorms. So they decided then, to tell Y/N what happened.

"So that's why I felt bad. Isn't that the after-effects of Amortentia?"

Three heads nodded in front of her, studying her features.

"Well, I'm glad it was you, Harry. Could you imagine if it was Ron?" Y/N visibly grimacing at the thought. "But to be honest, it was all my fault. I should've asked you first before eating it. Thank you for being honest with me, Harry."

It wasn’t really what the boy was expecting as a response. He was anticipating more anger or embarrassment from the girl.

Their usual cycle is back. Y/N was completely Y/N Y/L/N again it's as if nothing happened. The four of them never mentioned the incident again and Harry catches himself being disturbed with that. It made him feel some things like shouldn’t Y/N be shy around me? Or shouldn’t Ron tease us still about what happened? Or shouldn’t Hermione lecture us and watch over us more to not repeat the incident again? These thoughts run through his head as every day passes.

He also catches himself getting extra angrier at the Hufflepuff boy, Y/N’s crushing about, every time they have a Quidditch tournament. Especially that time when she barges in the Common Room pretty loudly yelling at everyone that she got a date with the cute Hufflepuff.

“Y/N can you help me find a good present for Mrs Weasley’s birthday on our next Hogsmeade trip?” He tried, one Friday morning, to get in between them.

“Of course, Harry! But, can we do it after my date?“

“Right . . . you have a date.” Sounding a tad bit more disappointed than he really is.

“But,” Y/N responded with the syllable dragging along “I could tell him to go on the next visit instead and spend the day with my best friend?”

“Oh no, I don’t want you to cancel your date because of me.”

“Harry, I could even cancel my Charms class, Godric knows how much I love that class but, that’s beside the point. What I’m saying is that I’m here for you. Also, we’ve barely hung out anymore ever since you’ve been the, what does Ron call it, ah, the Potions master!”

“Not you too!” he playfully grunted all too loudly earning a laugh from the girl.

"Seriously, I would love to come with you.”

He never thought he'd say this but he misses Y/N. His Y/N, who cannot keep her hands to herself but Harry’s.

And before he could stop himself from getting deeper into his thoughts, he was left astounded. To his knowledge, all feelings he has for his best friend are only platonic but here he is, couldn't stop himself from the thoughts of Y/N. The way she used to have her focus engraved to the boy alone and him alone. It gives him so much angst every time Y/N hasn't given him enough attention for the day.

If this stupid Amortentia incident leads him into any feelings he'd be in deep shit.

Because Harry should not be bothered to get distracted. Quidditch season is starting, he's got new people relying upon his captainship. Besides Y/N has her eyes on someone else and he cannot risk losing their friendship knowing his feelings aren't being reciprocated.

Well there it is, he's already in deep shit.

So when their first game arrived playing against Slytherin, he is rather surprised to see Ron winning them a high rank.

He knows he deserved the glory that's why as the captain of the team, he let them have the post quidditch game party in their common room. The parties were usually lead by the twins, but knowing they're already gone, he didn't know that his fellow housemates apprehended their festivities.

"Weasley! Weasley!"

They watch as Ron finally gets recognition for his own efforts alone. Y/N was nowhere to be found, probably with her new boyfriend, and Hermione was shattered when Lavender Brown smothered Ron with kisses.

The two are in a random staircase trying to comfort one another. He doesn't know who needs more comforting, Hermione or him. Knowing he already lost someone who's never his also shattered his heart.

"How does it feel, Harry? When you see Y/N with another guy?"

To say that he's dumbfounded was an understatement. He couldn't be that careless with his so-called feelings now, is he?

"I know. I see the way you look at her. You two are my best friend."

He dreaded this conversation happening. The Golden Boy has never intended on developing feelings toward his friend. Unlike Hermione and Ron, the two have been having this romantical tension ever since their first year. His feelings toward Y/N is purely conjured by an incident they never dared to speak about. The boy believes that these stupid feelings of him will only break their friendship and Harry's not risking that.

"Why don't you try something?" Hermione is always the one they go to whenever they need help and whenever they're clueless about the next step. But this, this advice of hers is definitely one Harry's scared to listen to. "Hufflepuff boy is still not making any moves yet. You know, you're valid to think about yourself too. You've always thought about the others, you always prioritize us before yourself. You deserve to live too, Harry."

So Harry did listen.

In the Great Hall, he confided himself to sit beside Y/N all the time. Hermione doesn't mind the changes in their seating arrangement as she gets to sit with Ron anyway, so candidly speaking, it is a win-win situation for everybody.

He starts small, playfully feeding her (the way she used to), talking and listening to her talk about life in general. When they were walking towards their class, he would always offer to carry her bag, in which he never really waits for her response. Intermittently inviting her to do homework by the lake alone together. And every time they have Hogsmeade visits, he would buy her sweets at Honeydukes.

And Y/N notices. It didn't really take her long before she sees. She has convinced Hermione one night to tell her of her doings that day she was under Amortentia. Harry's new behaviour towards her has perfectly mirrored the story Hermione has told her.

Little did Harry know, the feelings eventually have been mutuals.

So when the Golden Boy was informed of this Christmas Party Professor Slughorn has assembled, he didn't hesitate to ask Y/N in an instant, too afraid that Yule Ball night might happen again. He was, for once, too grateful to be part of the Slug Club as Hufflepuff Boy was not part of it. Now that just minimizes his crush problem.

He has seen her in a ball gown back in their fourth year for their Yule Ball. But he never got the chance to be the one standing beside her throughout the night but now, tonight, he feels like the luckiest man.

Standing on the top of the stairway from the girls' dorm room was his best friend he never had feelings before until this year. She wasn't wearing the grandest of gown there is but this simple dress enhanced her features. She was walking down the stairs with a smile that gave a huge impact on how she looks. She was literally glowing.

"Hi."

"Y/N," he breathed, completely in awe of what feelings do to people.

He always sees Y/N every day, talks to her and laughs with her. She sees her perfectly like what normal best friends do. But after developing feelings for her, his mind is persuaded that she was the most beautiful person that walked on the planet.

Harry is infatuated. He felt as if he was under some spell. Is this how Y/N sees him, all those times she was under the love potion?

But Harry was sure, a hundred per cent, that this is not artificial feelings. He really likes her.

So after a very successful Christmas date, with Hermione being their third wheel, the two were back from being hip to hip. Harry was glad his Y/N is back. He's been wearing the pride of not having to use a love potion to get her back beside him. Because this time, Harry did not create an artificial love to make the girl he likes, like him back. This time, he did it right. He just needed to wait for the right time and place to ask her.

Christmas has passed and Harry's time is also running fast. Of course, his special assignment with Dumbledore has never left his mind. He would do the subtle talks with Professor Slughorn here and there. He felt as if he's running out of ideas to get what he needed and to make things worse, the Potions Master is already growing annoyed with him.

"Still no luck with Slughorn, then, I take it?"

"Luck . . . That's it. All I need's a bit of luck."

That evening, Harry was away the whole time. He missed dinner but Y/N waited on him in the common room. She knows that the Felix Felicis potion has no limits. Whatever the user's deepest desires, it will help give it to them. Y/N knows that at this very moment, Harry succeeded. She makes sure that there will be someone waiting on him to celebrate it with him.

Harry came back from the Headmaster's office bearing a report about Slughorn's memory with Tom Riddle. There, in the Gryffindor Common Room, he sees her sleeping in one of the tables far back. It was not hard to see her, with the time obviously past bedtime, she was all alone.

With the liquid luck still pumping in his veins, he rushed to her. Kneeling in front of her, the Golden Boy then gently wakes the girl up.

"Harry?"

"Y/N . . . I think I'm falling"

"Falling? What falling? Are you experiencing vertigo right now? Anxiety?"

"Worse than those."

And Y/N, moving on from her sleeping state, was now fully aware of where the conversation was going. She holds his inviting hand. "What is it, Harry?"

"Love . . . I'm falling in love."

Y/N smiles at how adorable the boy is looking right now. His hair is ever so dishevelled and his lips as red as cherry. He was the most oblivious boy she knows. Has only dated one yet here he is, kneeling in front of her. Confessing.

She knows that Felix is helping him with some luck because knowing the sober Harry, he would never be bold enough to say such things. Little did Harry know, he need not some luck as she was all too blessed to have him in her life. Because to Y/N's honest opinion, in this room, she was the luckiest.

"I'm falling in love with you, Y/N."

—

(Shamefully) tagging these amazing ppl: @harryjamespotterxreader​ @harrypotterxx​ @catching-the-train-to-hogwarts

[yoonpobs]

bad boy good thing xiv.

pairing: jeon jungkook x oc

genre: angst, smut, fluff, miscommunication (we hate her lol), pining

warnings: smut, jungkook is really an asshole, the angst hurts a lot tbh, unhealthy relationships (?)

words: 5, 690

summary: a series of drabbles where you're confused and jungkook's confusing

a/n:

hello!!!! we’re here at fourteen chapters omg ✨✨when i first started this series it was mostly self-indulgent and now there are people who actually enjoy reading it??🥺 it almost doesn’t seem real T.T 

thank you so much for the love and support!!! just so I don't give too much spoilers for this chap - I apologise to my fellow geminis for the potential slander 🤣 this is more of a self-drag lmaooo 

anyway, I hope you enjoy this chap!!!

“Ah. I’m getting allergies.” Yena sniffs, scrunching her nose.

You furrow your brows in concern, “Are you okay? Do you need any medicine?”

“It’s just the seasonal changes,” She brushes you off.

You nod in understanding, “I get it. My mom has horrible reactions towards pollen so—”

“I’m not allergic to flowers.” She blinks.

“Then what—?”

“It’s Gemini season. It’s like—literally the worst time of the year.” She blinks.

You gawk at her, taking a whole ten seconds to process her serious tone when she doesn’t waver under your scrutiny.

“I’m a Gemini,” You inform her slowly.

“I mean …” She shrugs all as you scowl at her, opting to throw the closest object you had, which was your favourite pen so you decide against it; simply shooting her the meanest glare you could possibly muster.

“Look, it’s not you,” She sighs, and you’re half-expecting her to finish with an it’s me to make you scoff, “It’s me.” And there you go. “I mean, it’s Gemini’s in general because they’re two-faced bitches who have the worst emotional attachment issues. Like they’re literally what the opposite of glue is. And they’re so over-analytical. How is it like psychoanalysing every person you meet only to hurt your own feelings and sulk about it?”

You blink.

“I mean it’s not you but if the shoe fits.” She says casually, plopping a grape into her mouth that you’re tempted to slap away.

“You’re so mean!” You pout indignantly.

She cackles, throwing her head back as you continue to sulk. You weren’t that bad. You just … you were risk-averse! You liked having the freedom to observe everyone and anyone and package them into tiny compartments in your head so you could understand them better. You weren’t … that Gemini.

“You’re so cute,” She coos pinching your cheeks. “No wonder Beef One and Beef Two like you so much.” She teases.

Your first reaction is to blush because you know who exactly she’s talking about, but you have more pressing matters, like—

“You have nicknames for them?” You ask, baffled.

“Hey, I wasn’t friends with many girls in high school. Don’t girls usually have nicknames for their crushes?” She says through a pout.

You stay expressionless as you try to gauge the level of seriousness you can extract from her tone.

You realise she’s dead serious.

“Yeah, but we’re in college,” You argue, scrunching your nose, “And sides’, it’s not like they’re strangers. We know them.”

She rolls her eyes, waving you off like you were the inconvenience here. Then she leans forward, her eyes twinkling as she takes a complete one-eighty that you try to adjust to.

“So … you Gemini hoe, what’s your plans?” She nudges you.

You raise a brow, “Did you just call me a—?”

“Plans, ___. Stay on track.” She scolds.

You sigh, still fond but you pretend to be annoyed. You really couldn’t get annoyed with Yena. After all, the more time you spend with her the more you realise how much life sucked before you had her in your life. You spent each moment learning more about her quirks and habits, her choice of words that made you giggle or laugh until you were crying.

And you realise that this is how she loves, a little rough but welcomed nonetheless.

“If you’re talking about my birthday then … not much. I’m probably stuck doing admin work for the college’s charity programme.” You shrug, stabbing a fork into your soiled salad.

Yena gapes at you, “Not much—excuse me? It’s your birthday! You’re turning twenty-five!” 

You look at her dryly, “I’ve been twenty-five since the year—”

She groans, “That’s not the same! You’re like—officially twenty-five. You’re literally hitting the mark for a quarter-life crisis. Isn’t that something to celebrate?” 

“Me going through an existential crisis at the end of my degree is not how I want to celebrate my birthday but okay,” You blink.

She rolls her eyes at your realism.

“That’s not the point. Point is, this is our first birthday together and I want it to be special.” She points out.

You snort, “What? Are we doubling my birthday as our monthsary or something?”

She shoves you with a brute force that has you snickering but she continues to pester you anyway.

“You’re so dumb. So smart, but so dumb,” She shakes her head, “You’re always studying or doing some form of work that requires the use of more than one brain cell. You deserve a break. Besides, you have two dudes to pick from on how you’d like to be wined and dined and—”

“Yena!” You whine.

“—it’ll be like an episode of the Bachelorette! But just with a super cool and smart best friend that’ll make the decision for you. It’s not your birthday. It’s ours.” She emphasises towards the end.

You stare at her for a long second, before the two of you are bursting into laughter at the absurdity of her statement. 

It was nice, just to laugh about things without having your heart feel so heavy. Even if it was a mild distraction, it was still wholly pleasant to be able to just talk about mindless things that didn’t require much mental gymnastics to navigate the conversation with.

“What are the two of you laughing about?” Taehyung and Jimin arrive at impeccable timing, sliding into the booth with their own packaged food. It’s very college-student-esque, a cute paper (because no plastic) container filled with an array of assortments.

“None of your XY chromosomes business.” Yena retorts.

Jimin blinks, “You are literally so hostile.”

“Then don’t give me a reason to be.” She sticks her tongue out petulantly.

You laugh, nudging her with your shoulder, “Be nice.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes but manages to keep a civil smile on his face. Always the more rational one between the two. 

“Anyway, Yena definitely isn’t going to answer me so, what’s up?” He turns to look at you.

You roll your eyes but it’s half-hearted, “She wants to celebrate my birthday like we’re on the Bachelorette.”

“Like you’re on the Bachelorette.” She corrects.

“Oh my God, our baby’s turning twenty-five!” Jimin coos at the reminder, pinching your cheeks as he coddles you. You scowl and weakly shove him away, even if you preen under the attention.

“I’m literally older than the both of you.” You huff.

Yena blinks, “There’s no way I’m the oldest person at this table.”

Taehyung furrows his brows, “Wait—how old are you?”

She sends him a scathing glare that has his arms raised up in defence.

“Jeez, okay. Don’t answer.”

“I’m going to answer because you told me not to.” She clips. “I’m twenty-seven.”

Jimin blinks, “No wonder you and Yoongi hyung are so alike.”

You almost miss it, but as Yena so eloquently pointed out, you were a sucker for psychoanalysing people (even if you didn’t want to admit it yet) that you notice the way she flushes ever so slightly as she scoffs.

“Him? How dare you compare me to that sorry excuse of a—!”

“Okay, everyone is beneath you. I’m sorry your highness.” Jimin rolls his eyes.

You make a note to ask her about it because you know for a fact that Yoongi ‘complains’ about Yena every hour he can. It’s almost as if he can’t go long enough without mentioning her.

You smile to yourself as you duck your head.

“Exactly,” She flips her hair over her shoulders before turning to face you. “Anyway, back to you—our baby.”

Taehyung nods, “Exactly, the baby.”

You scrunch your nose, “Don’t coddle me.”

He pats your head before cooing at you like he would to an actual baby, “But you’re just so cute. You’re too good for this shitty world. Too good for the likes of mere mortals like us.”

“Not me.” Yena blinks before gesturing to their bodies, “You.”

Jimin sticks his tongue out in retaliation as you sigh at their never-ending bickering.

Somehow … it felt right. You think it most of the times but you don’t know any other way to describe how it feels to be back with your friends, laughing, bickering and just appreciating their presence.

When you and Jungkook had your issues, it was like you made the conscious choice to avoid everyone and anyone as much as you could, and any interaction you had during that period was purely out of coincidences and not the intention. You remember actively avoiding Jimin and Taehyung because it felt too draining to pretend like you didn’t have a battle in your head. Even studying or spending time with Namjoon made you feel guilty, the thought of Jungkook lingering in your mind. Yena was there through it all, but even then you saw her as much as you did with any of your classmates you so happened to share a class with.

In fact, if it weren’t for Yena you’d probably have zero social interactions as a whole because she just knew. She somehow picked up on your internal conflicts but never outwardly shamed you or confronted you about it. All she did was be there for you, offering you her presence and you were grateful.

So, yeah. Things were better, but your heart was still at its core—confused. Your feelings for Jungkook didn’t disappear overnight and you knew that you were the one that asked for space.

You forgave him … you did, honestly. But there are things you can’t forget, and those are the things that you wished you could. The words he said in principle, was outright shitty. But the fact that it came from him only poked at every single one of your insecurities that you developed over the years.

You knew it wasn’t healthy to compare yourself to other women when they were living vastly different lives than you were, but it’s proven difficult when you’re forced to see these type of women every day, at college, in your community work or on the media. 

Believing Jungkook’s apparent feelings for you was harder because, well. Jungkook was Jungkook. He wasn’t just another guy, and despite his shortcomings, he had more merits than he’d let on and you knew that people saw that. It was also the fact that Jungkook had a charm that drew all types of people in. He was soft-spoken but passionate, and people loved a quiet achiever.

You … knew about the women. Way before Jennie and way before the thing between the two of you happened. Jimin and Taehyung would always update you about the new fling or girl he had tied to his hip just as he was in his final year in high school. You had to force a smile every single time they’d snicker and joke about how your Jungkook suddenly became a man overnight.

And you noticed the trend with the women he liked. They were … captivating. Beautiful wasn’t even enough to describe them because they looked like they could carry the world on their shoulders and spark immense change with just the movement of their lips. They were confident and charismatic, outgoing and just the right amount of flirty. You were anything but.

It sucked, majorly, because you spent years agonising over the fact that you were already coined with the older sister title in the group because of the way you acted—just a little more uptight than the average woman your age. You were quiet but loud in the right company; you didn’t like crowds, socialising or mingling around with people you didn’t know and based on your observations it seemed like that was the only thing that Jungkook’s been doing ever since he made it to senior year in high school, and even in the first years of college.

You don’t resent him, you think. You couldn’t blame him because you weren’t honest either. You consented, to all of the kisses and touches even if he hadn’t officially had sex with you. You wanted to, but you were terrified. Not at the prospect of penetration but at the prospect of not being enough and the fact that Jungkook was the only person you wanted to have sex with while he had options that were far more attractive and experienced than you were.

That’s why you needed time because at least you could get your shit together even if it was an uphill battle.

“Earth to ____?” Taehyung waves a hand in front of your face with a concerned expression.

You blink, snapping out of your daze as you offer a meek smile and an apology.

“We just asked you if you wanted a small get together at Tae’s and I’s place for your birthday?” Jimin asks.

“Really?” You beam. That was exactly what you preferred.

“Yeah, we know you don’t like clubs and stuff. Just a small and intimate gathering with all your best buds.” He grins.

You nod your head, but Yena beats you to a response.

“By best buds you mean the three friends she has, which is us and the two meatheads duelling for her affection.” She snorts.

You flush, “Y-Yena!”

Taehyung snickers at your embarrassment.

“It doesn’t help that both of them are literally the biggest dudes on the football team. It’s literally like watching King Kong and Godzilla getting into a fight for world domination.”

Jimin throws his back in laughter as you fold your arms across your chest at post at the way your friends are practically crying in laughter at the image. Jimin was clutching onto Taehyung for his dear life because if he didn’t then he’d fall off the chair.

“Stop,” You whine, “you guys are being mean.”

“Oh my God, you’re literally the only person on this earth that would take two people fighting for your attention as an offence.” Taehyung groans.

“I-It’s not that!” You deny exasperatedly, “I-It’s just … awkward …”

Jimin sighs with a small smile, patting your head.

“If it’s any consolation I think it’s offensive that Jungkook thinks he even has the right to breathe in—”

“Jimin!”

“Wow. It really is like King Kong and Godzilla.” Jimin whistles lowly, eyeing the scene before him with amusement lingering in his eyes.

“Do you think they’re gonna start slamming their chests soon or …?” Taehyung trails off in a whisper, leaning into Jimin so that the two other men wouldn’t notice.

“I can literally hear you.” You say dryly.

Jimin offers you a plastic smile, “You’re meant to hear us, babe. How about you try to tame them like Jane did with Tarzan?”

Jimin nearly shrieks when you shove him so fiercely that he topples over into Taehyung’s grasp as the second part of the duo only catches him in the process. 

You sigh, completely ignoring the way that Jimin’s muttering curses that were directed to you under his breath. Instead, you were transfixed on the scene before you—which specifically is Jungkook and Namjoon staring each other down through the mirror of the gym. You were lucky that it was just the five of you since Namjoon was able to use his captain privileges to book the gym because you had no idea how to explain the fact that two big-sized men were attempting to outdo each other in their circuit reps as if they were on a suicide mission.

“Listen, when I agreed to help you out with your sets I thought I was meant to help log it in for a report.” You exasperate, but the two men continue their manly lift-off as they huff and puff their exertion away.

“Trust me, you are helping. Being the motivation is more than—”

This time it’s Taehyung who faces your wrath as you thwack him upside the head. 

From where Jungkook and Namjoon were, Jungkook can only deliver death stares into the direction of his captain who returns it tenfold. He wasn’t even sure why they were doing this but something a flicked definitely switched in Jungkook when Namjoon (purposefully) revealed that you were helping out with something. At the gym. Supposedly alone.

Jungkook’s primitive side came out because the next thing Namjoon knew was that Jungkook managed to drag himself, and Jimin and Taehyung as a diversion. He still feels his chest swell with pride when recalling the scowl on Namjoon’s face when he entered the gym, all fake smiles and a pep in his step.

“____, could you help me spot?” Namjoon breathes, sitting up from whatever the hell he was doing with the barbell. You weren’t fixated with gym language and you weren’t even sure why he was asking you when there was an entire Jimin and Taehyung right next to you.

“Uh, okay sure—“

“Noona,” Jungkook calls.

You freeze.

“Jungkook … I thought we established that you don’t need to call me that anymore.” You raise an eyebrow.

You miss the obvious glare that Namjoon shoots his bitchass friend, as well as the snorts that leave Jimin and Taehyung’s mouth.

“Pay attention to me,” Jungkook pouts. Like, actually pouts. You somehow flush because he seemed so much like the younger version of Jungkook who used to always coddle you for attention.

“Okay but after I help—”

“Yeah. After she helps me.” Namjoon interjects, and you nearly jump at the way he’s suddenly behind you, more so—pressed against your back with his hands on your hips as he moves you aside to get to another piece of equipment.

Your breath hitches because while you weren’t exactly invested in Namjoon in the romantic sense, he was undeniably attractive and … big. You could salivate in private.

“Oh my God, do you see that?” Taehyung hisses in a hushed whisper.

“Hyung is petty,” Jimin gawks.

“This is Namjoon we’re talking about. Didn’t he steal all the umbrellas from your dorm because you ratted him out to the librarian when he broke a bookshelf?” Taehyung recalls.

Jimin pauses to retract his mind to that moment.

“He’s so petty and I’m living for it. Look at Kook’s face,” He snickers, nudging Taehyung with his shoulder.

Jungkook only can clench his jaw in return because he knew that you wouldn’t be a fan of him reaching out to strangle the shit out of Namjoon. But the older boy seems fine, if not pleased with how Jungkook’s fuming in his own spot.

“Let me just …” You cock a thumb to Namjoon, before releasing a breath of your own and going to help him with whatever he needed in the first place.

“Jimin can help him. I have a more pressing problem.” He complains.

You stop in your tracks before turning around, raising an eyebrow at Jungkook who finally sits up, still staring at you like you held all the solutions in the world.

“Literally wait for your turn,” Namjoon scowls.

“My arm hurts,” Jungkook says, raising his arm to show you. 

“I don’t … see anything?” You furrow your brows.

“Because my muscles hurt, Noona,” Jungkook emphasises with a flex of his bicep and you can feel yourself get hot in the way your eyes can’t stray away.

You’re momentarily distracted by the blatant display of muscle by Jungkook that you completely miss the way that Jimin and Taehyung are struggling to breathe because of how hard they’re stifling their laughter or the way that Namjoon is contemplating on throwing the nearest dumbbell into Jungkook’s direction.

You flush, “Okay, you know what? Wait here. Let me get the first aid kit.” You mumble, quickly scampering off to alleviate yourself from the situation.

The moment you leave the room, Namjoon takes two long strides until he reaches where Jungkook’s sat, before wrapping a hand around the arm that was supposedly hurt—and squeezes.

“Ow! What the fuck hyung?!” Jungkook shrieks.

“Don’t hyung me, you brat.” Namjoon seethes, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Jungkook gapes, while Jimin and Taehyung watch in amusement.

“Me?! What’s wrong with you?” Jungkook retorts, equally as agitated, “Oh, _____, help spot me! Woe is me! Like she wouldn’t get crushed under you, you meathead!” 

“Like you’re any better,” Namjoon snaps, “Oh, Noona, pay attention to me. My arm hurts. You might as well have asked her to change your fucking diapers at the rate you’re acting like a damn child.”

“You’re the one that started all of this!” Jungkook exasperates, “With all due respect hyung, I love you and you’re my captain but I really feel like smashing your head into the wall right now.”

“That’s it?” Namjoon scoffs, “Well I’ll do you one better and let you know that every time you breathe in my direction I feel like—”

“Oh my God will you two idiots shut the fuck up?” Taehyung interjects, snapping at the two boys who pause, staring up at him with wide eyes.

Even Jimin is surprised at Taehyung’s intervention, purely because he was the type that usually let shit slide or let other people put problematic individuals into place. He was the mediator, the diplomat—not usually the aggressor.

“Wha—”

“Another peep and I’m going to smother your body under the dumbbells and leave you here to rot and die.” Taehyung seethes, staring straight into Jungkook’s soul.

That shuts him up.

“Both of you are acting like goddamn children, and for what? To battle out your masculinity to see who gets ____’s attention first?” Taehyung exasperates.

Namjoon clears his throat, “We were just—”

“—acting like a bunch of barbarians who’s never seen civilisation?” Taehyung retorts dryly, “Yeah. Because that’s exactly what this looks like. The two of you are so petty and for what? You two are literally rubbing the last remaining brain cells you have with each other but nothing is coming out from it. Like—nothing. Do you think she’d give a shit which one of you can lift more reps? That means absolutely nothing! She’s already freaked the fuck out at the prospect of her childhood best friend being in love with her and now we have Big Tit Number One and Two battling it out like you’re in the Greek Olympics.”

Jungkook blinks, and Jimin is mildly impressed.

“So before she comes back and tends to Jungkook’s hurt muscle,” Taehyung sneers, eyes narrowing at a guilty-looking Jungkook, “Both of you better sort your shit out.”

Namjoon flushes, embarrassed at the prospect of being called out, all while Jungkook is avoiding eye contact at all costs.

“Oh my God, do you have a crush on each other or something? Apologise!” Taehyung gestures towards the two boys who awkwardly blink at each other, feeling much like reprimanded children.

It’s Namjoon who breaks the silence first, clearly the more mature one in the situation.

“Look … Jungkook,” He sighs, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to … drag it out like this. I don’t mean it maliciously and you’re my friend and teammate, so I’d really hate if a girl got in the way.”

Jungkook nibbles on his lips, eyebrows still scrunched; and the irrational part of him tells him to ignore the apology. But with the way that Taehyung is glaring him down, with Jimin’s expectant gaze, he knows that he doesn’t have much of a choice.

“I’m sorry … too,” he winces at his own voice, “But just to let you know … I really …” He shuts his eyes, feeling his chest tighten when he tries to force the words out, “She isn’t just … a girl to me, hyung. I really, really like her. And—I know you like her too but … I fucked up and I really want to make things right and seeing you—”

Jungkook is flushing while he rambles on, fully aware that the rest of his friends are listening intently to him speaking his heart. But a hand rests itself on his shoulder, and when Jungkook opens his eyes he sees Namjoon offering him a gentle smile.

“I know,” He says, “I know I said I wouldn’t back off …” He trails off and Jungkook recalls the conversation he had with him in the very same gym just a few weeks back, “But I don’t think I can compete with a decade long love story.” 

Jungkook scoffs, though his ears are flushed.

“It’s really not—”

Namjoon waves him off, clasping a tight hand onto his back that tells him it’s okay, and whatever that was going on would get better. And Jungkook feels marginally better and allows himself to let out a sigh of release.

“So are the two of you gonna kiss or what?” Jimin asks in the midst of the silence.

Namjoon glares at the boy, “Don’t make me give you an extra ten laps.”

He backs down immediately, raising his hands up in defence. And at that moment, you return, all smiles and with a pant as you raise the first aid kit up.

“Your arm?” You smile sweetly, and Jungkook can only offer a weak on in return.

“Can I ask you something?” 

“Depends. Will I have to run from the government if I answer you honestly?” Yena ponders out loud.

You roll your eyes but shake your head anyway. The two of you were meant to be cooking dinner but you’ve surrendered yourself to Netflix and Yena’s witty live commentary on horrible films you were scrolling through an hour earlier. Though, your head wasn’t quite in it, to begin with; your thoughts drifting to other aspects, ones that you thought too hard for and didn’t necessarily know the answer to.

It was frustrating, the way that you wanted to have a solution for everything but overthought every single case that happens to pass by your mind. 

“No one’s hunting anyone down, your anarchist,” You say, “This is a little … personal.” 

You didn’t have any girl friends prior to Yena, and that was your first mistake. You weren’t the person that actively avoided having girl friends because you thought they were dramatic or overly emotional but purely because you never knew how to befriend women. It was weird—being a woman yet being muddled with your own sense of femininity that suppressed your ability to form meaningful friendships with your women peers.

Throughout most of your childhood and teenaged life, you only had Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook. While they were more than enough to keep your memories cheerful and filled with laughter, there were more personal things that you couldn’t quite approach them with. They had each other to confide in their ‘manly’ discussions, small talk that you’d often flush at—but you couldn’t ask them the same things you wanted to.

You knew, that on a fundamental level that your personal things were just … things. It wasn’t that deep, nor did it require a PhD in Gender Studies to fully understand the nuance of periods or apparent ‘girl’ problems; you just needed to listen. But you were timid, and you got embarrassed super easily—so that never boded well whenever you’d want to approach them with a question of your own.

But now, you had Yena—debatably the most open and understanding person you’ve met in your life; and you owed it to yourself, and her—to be honest, to live yourself vicariously in your girl best friends eyes—and ask:

“How do you have sex?”

Granted, there was definitely a smoother way of peeling off the bandaid, but you supposed if you were going to be discussing this one way or another, you’d go big or go home.

“I’m sorry,” She coughs, “What?”

You blink.

“Sorry, I guess I should’ve asked if you were a virgin first …” You mumble.

Yena stares at you with a stupefied expression as she gapes at you.

“Hey, repeat after me: candy, tree and cat.” She grabs you by your shoulders.

“I’m not cerebrally compromised, Yena,” you say dryly.

“Repeat,” She glares.

You huff, shoving her hand off your shoulder.

“Candy, tree and cat. There, happy?” You huff.

She eyes you weirdly as you sigh. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes!” You exasperate, “So like … how? Do you just? Penetrate?”

Yena blinks one more time, her eyes trailing to the ceiling as she asks for a higher being to give her strength before she returns her gaze onto your figure.

“Babe, that is literally the unsexiest way to approach sex.” 

“Penetration?” You furrow your brows.

She scrunches her brows, “No.” She gestures to you, “That.”

You scowl.

“I don’t know how to approach sex! That’s why I’m asking you. I literally don’t know who else to approach. If I went to Jimin or Taehyung I’m pretty sure they’d just stare at me and cry. Namjoon is out of the picture because he’d likely approach sex textbook style and I don’t need that level of detail right now. I definitely can’t ask Jungkook because he’s the guy I wanna have sex with. So yeah. I’m here because you’re a woman and the only person I can have a full conversation with without losing my will to live.”

Yena gawks at you, jaw slack as you finish your ramble; ears flushed.

“… you …” She begins, wracking her brain for the words that seem to fail her, “… okay. You know what, the fact that you’re here and putting your big girl pants on and asking me this is a feat in itself so I’m going to just ignore the fact that you said you wanted to have sex with Jungkook.”

You flush, “I was word vomiting—”

“Ah,” She holds her hands up, levelling you with a knowing glare, “If you want honest, you be honest too.”

You slump in your seat, sighing as you nod your head defeatedly.

“Firstly, I’m not a virgin. I could never be a virgin.” Yena declares, “Granted, I’ve slept with three people and two of them were women. But the idiot I lost my virginity to was, unfortunately, of XY chromosomes so … I guess I can answer your questions.”

“I mean … I know how sex works but … approaching it …” You mutter.

“And sex isn’t this groundbreaking act that requires Einstein’s IQ to partake in. It’s both intimate and not, and that’s definitely a personal preference. You can know the semantics of how people have sex, for hets in this case, which is just the classic ol’ penetration method where the penis enters the—”

“Your point?” You exasperate.

“—okay, I got a little carried away. But really, sex isn’t … difficult. It’s scary, I’ll give you that. But you don’t go into your first time thinking you’ll be great at it. Hell, you won’t even like sex that much your first few times unless your partner is a sex demon or something.”

“I mean when Jungkook …” You shudder, “When he … I … you know, did things … it felt …” You fiddle with your fingers. Your ears were undoubtedly on fire, and you were so embarrassed saying these things out loud because it was just so awkward!

“Good? You know I’m not going to judge you for it,” she says pointedly, “That’s what friends are for, right?”

You flush, covering your face with your hands in embarrassment. You knew that Yena would never judge you for something as trivial and as unimportant as your sexual endeavours, but this was still a road you’ve yet to properly navigate yourself.

“I … came,” you wince at your breathy voice, “It felt good. And … he’s experienced, you know? I just don’t want to …”

Yena looks at you inquisitively.

“You don’t want to …?”

You sigh deeply, considering your next words with a soft murmur, “I don’t want to not live up to his expectations, you know?”

She frowns at you, “Jungkook’s made some mistakes but you said it yourself. He’s in love with you,” she says softly, “There’s no pressure to have sex with him just because it’s out in the open now, you know?”

You nibble on your lips.

“It’s … more than just that,” you tell her, “I told him I needed time, and really, I do. But it isn’t because I’m confused. I mean, kind of—but really it’s because I don’t want to walk into something and disappoint him … I’m just … scared.”

Yena holds your hand in hers while offering you a gentle smile.

“It’s valid that you’re scared. But there really isn’t anything that can come out of being scared right now. The two of you worked through an obstacle, and here you are creating another one that doesn’t quite exist yet. Trust me, when the time feels right, it does. And you’ll feel ready. Will you still be scared? Maybe. But it’ll feel like it’s meant to fit within your timeline.”

You nibble on your lips, “Is it bad that I’m overthinking this?” You wince.

Yena shrugs her shoulders, “Like everything else in your life?” She teases.

You whine, shoving at her shoulder playfully where all Yena does is snicker in response. You weren’t quite sure what you were expecting out of the conversation, even if it was vaguely about the ins and outs of sexual exploration. And she was right, you’ll always be afraid of something, whether it’ll benefit you or harm you because that’s what change does. It shifts your comfort zone into a space that may be unfamiliar but necessary.

You lean into Yena’s shoulder, and a wave of overwhelming emotion washes upon you when you look at her. You really didn’t know how you survived a time without Yena in your life. And as if she’s noticed your glassy gaze, she raises an eyebrow at you.

“What are you looking at?”

You grin at her, all teeth and gums on display as you hug onto her arm like a koala.

“I’m just really happy you’re in my life.” You sigh wistfully.

She pauses for one whole second before she snorts.

“Wow, talk about sex once and suddenly you’re in love with me?” She wiggles her eyebrows at you, “Tell Jeon and Kim that you’re mine now.”

You giggle, rolling your eyes.

“They’re not even competing in the same league as you are,” you assure her.

She smiles.

“So … does that mean I don’t need to get you a birthday gift?”

That earns a thwack on her shoulder.

[fandom-imagines]

Your Age

Fandom: Harry Potter

Pairing: Jealous!Professor!Lupin X Legal!Student!Reader

Words: 1.3k

Warnings: Jealousy, teacher x student relationship, implied smutty ending. Oh and implied toxic parenting.

Summary: After a rough breakup, Y/N finally starts talking to men again. But this doesn’t sit right with her ex, Professor Lupin.

It was hard for the new DADA Professor to watch the girl he longed for be flirted with by somebody else, Draco Malfoy to be specific.

An uncomfortable feeling settled in his chest as he watched Y/N smile at the platinum-haired boy, her hand resting on his upper arm. She was blissfully unaware of the burning gaze that was fixated on her and the Slytherin.

“You have no right, Remus,” he mumbled to himself, extremely grateful that there was nobody within earshot to hear him talking to himself. “You broke it off with her. You’re too old.”

“Y/N, can you stay behind a moment, please?” Despite his lips being pulled up into a soft smile, his eyes held a different emotion.

“Sure, Professor!”

Once everyone had piled out of the room, Y/N’s friends saying they’ll see her in Potions, Remus finally broke the news.

“This can’t go on,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “There’s so many reasons why it can’t.” The pain in her eyes was something he would never be able to erase from his mind, no matter how much he wanted to get rid of it.

“Got ya,” she smiled, holding back tears. “Is that all, Professor?”

Hearing her use that title whilst they were alone struck a new type of pain in his heart and all he could do was nod.

“That’s all, Y/N.”

That was four months ago, and the Professor had never felt worse about anything. But he knew it was for her own good; he’s too old for her, at least in his mind.

Y/N had never known the reason behind his sudden distaste towards their relationship, instead being left to assume that he had met someone else; met someone his own age.

The first month had been the worst. Constant overthinking, skipping classes and the feeling over never being wanted again.

The second month things got better, not much but a bit. Her parents were still on at her, as they had always been, about finding a powerful wizard boyfriend. It didn’t matter either way. It isn’t exactly like she could have told them who she was seeing. It just stung more with her mother telling her if she doesn’t find someone now, she never will.

The third month was when things started looking up. She was feeling better, less insecure and was finally spending time with other men, most notable, Draco Malfoy. The sleepless nights were over, and she was beginning to feel better.

“Sorry I’m late,” Lupin rushed as he entered the classroom, hair messy and dark bags under his eyes.

Y/N’s hand dropped from Malfoy’s arm, falling to her side which didn’t go unnoticed by the DADA teacher; things like this made him feel happy yet guilty. She deserves better than an old professor in his eyes and she shouldn’t be sad about him leaving.

He caught the Y/H/C-haired girl’s eyes as she moved to take her usual seat in front of his desk. Usually, she would desperately avoid his sight, something that pained him, but it was different today. For what reason, he didn’t know, or at least he didn’t until Draco took a seat beside her.

“You look lonely, Y/N/N,” he smirked. “Want some company?”

“I’d love some,” she returned his smile, one Lupin longed to be directed at him once again.

*

It had been about a week since he had seen Y/N last, and he wished the first time that he saw her again hadn’t been like this.

Malfoy and she were leaning against the wall outside of him classroom, both unaware of his presence. They were talking about something, something that he couldn’t hear and he was about to interrupt them until he saw the blonde lean in and capture her lips on his own. Eyes wide, Lupin turned and left, not hearing or seeing what had happened immediately after.

*

“Look guys,” Seamus laughed, noticing the letter that Y/N had received mere seconds ago. “Y/S/N got herself a howler!”

Y/N, who was now blushing at everyones attention on her, let out a sigh and she unwillingly opened it, aware of the consequences if she did not. The entire halls attention was on her as it began to scream:

“Y/N Y/S/N! How dare you reject Lucius Malfoy’s son! Draco is a lovely young boy, how dare you break his heart like that? He was nothing but nice to you and you won’t even let him take you out on a date? How ungrateful are you? You’re nothing but a frigid little girl, no man will ever love you!”

“Okay mother,” Y/N muttered, watching as the letter tore itself up. “I think I’m going to go.” Were her final words, not waiting for her friends replies before leaving, not realising who had followed her.

*

Tears slipped down her cheeks as Y/N sat herself on the step outside of the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, somewhere she had come out of habit. She always ended up here when she was upset. Nobody was come, it was early morning on a weekend.

“Y/N?” A familiar voice sounded around the corner. Of course he knew exactly where she had gone. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she was clearly lying, he knew her too well for her to lie to him. “I just want to be alone.”

A sigh left Lupin’s lips as he took a seat beside her, robe almost tripping him which would have been comical if not for the situation at hand. “She’s not right, you know?” He chimed in.

“What?” Y/N turned to face the man she was once involved with, only for him to already be looking at her. “What do you mean?”

“You’re not unlovable,”

Confusion enveloped her body as Remus took Y/N’s cheek in his hand, finger roaming the flesh. “I love you,” without hesitation his lips pressed gently against her own, not thinking of the consequences. He enjoyed the way she kissed back immediately, being too used to his lips against hers.

But she pulled back moments after. “No you don’t,” she said. “If you did you wouldn’t have gotten rid of me.” Her hand reached up to snatch his hand from her cheek, missing the pain that flashed across his face.

“Can we talk in my office?”

“I guess,”

And so she followed him, noticing how dishevelled he looked along with the locking of the door. Despite his messy look, he was still attractive.

“What is it?”

“I didn’t do it to hurt you. I didn’t do it for any reason other than wanting to protect you,” he admitted, flicking his wand to give her a seat as he took one beside her, tilting it so he could face her. “You need somebody your own age, somebody that won’t have to disappear once a month, someone that isn’t me.”

Y/N’s eyes widened at his confession, unsure as to how to respond. “But I don’t want anyone else. I love you and only you. You’re the only one I want.”

“I’m sure Malfoy would beg to differ. I’ve seen to way you two act.” He swallowed deeply, looking anywhere but her face.

“Are you jealous?”

The professor hesitated. “Yes, I want you to be only mine. I know that’s selfish but you’re all I can think about, you’re all I want. Hurting you was the last thing I ever wanted to do.”

His hand reached to grasp Y/N’s own, intertwining their fingers whilst he enjoyed the blushing. His spare hand reached for her cheek once again as he spoke. “Forgive me?” His breath fanned across her lips, having moved closer to her face.

“Always,” she pushed her lips against his, something she had missed dearly. “I missed you so much.” She murmured as he pulled her into his lap, her arms wrapping around his neck as they kissed.

“Me too, darling,” he groaned at the feeling of her pressing against his area. “Let me show you how much.”