#new wip good lord

[wolfpants]

harry potter's most miserable year - chapter one | a drarry bridget jones fic

Roll up roll up, it's the Drarry Bridget Jones adaptation no one asked for!

This concept has been living rent free in my brain for months. I just had to get it out. Thank you so much to my little team of readers and betas: @getawayfox @citrusses @oknowkiss, thank you for indulging my crazy ideas and allowing me to write this nonsense.

Harry Potter's Most Miserable Year | Chapter One

Rating: E Relationships: Harry/Draco (endgame); Harry/Theo; past Draco/OMC, Minor Dean/Ginny, Minor Ron/Hermione, Minor Justin/Ernie, Minor Luna/Neville Tags: Endgame Drarry, EWE, POV Harry, Quidditch, Quidditch Manager Harry, Quidditch Player Draco, Sports Journalist Theo, Romantic Comedy, Romance, Diaries, New Year's Resolutions, Human Disaster Harry, Buttoned-up Draco, (a lot of) smoking, (a lot of) drinking, Recreational Drug Use, Explict Sexual Content, Banter, Pubs, London, Friendship, Charity Balls, Romione's naughty children, Dinner Parties, life in your 30s, Lying/Emotional Deceit, Smear Campaign, Infedeility (but not between Drarry)

After running into Malfoy at a New Year's Day party and overhearing some choice opinions he has on Harry’s character, Harry decides to change his life for good. Quit smoking, drink less, dress better, excel at his brand new role as Puddlemere’s manager, and find a nice, adult man he can settle down with. Sounds easy, right?

“What’s he like, then?” Ron asked a second later, suddenly at Harry’s side, plate piled high with turkey curry and rice.  Harry patted his pockets for his cigarettes. “A dickhead.” Ron laughed heartily. “Ha. I was right.”

read chapter one on ao3

#new wip good lord #drarry #drarry but make it bridget jones #bridget jones but set it in the world of pro quidditch #draco/harry #drarry fic #harry/draco #hp fanfic #drarry fanfic

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Me: *writing sickfics for September* Rusl, clearing his throat: Wolf Link reveal. Me, stopping dead in my tracks: W-wait-- Me, shaking from head to foot: No, no, no don't you dare-- Brain: Mmmm, yes, Wolf Link reveal, write it now.

Playing Twilight Princess is killing me, guys.

#guess what now I have a new wip #ho boy #I NEED TO AT LEAST FINISH THE GAME FIRST GOOD LORD #SOMEONE SAVE ME #writing #legend of zelda #twilight princess #secrets of the shadows

[popponn]

im suffering through a backpain rn so all i will offer for a while are rebblogs with madman babblings. and here, for anyone who are interested (whoever u r, ily.)

#i dont usually complain here but please excuse me for this one because good lord #also before i start babble please think of the preview as a bribe. or peace offering 🫰 #but anyway so #i know there are times where my back hurts but man this time it hurts so much i have difficulties standing and sitting #like an actual grandma. i joke a lot about being grandma but really backache this severe in your 20s is not normal right????? #the funny part is that i try some yoga moves and light stretching pose and we are okay #on the good side this means i have a reason to binge read muehehhehee #the bad news is that. my schedule. next week. my back please get well soon please #okay thats all #if you are reading up to this point ily muach muach kis kiss visit hope ur fave fic got an update #hope ur fave stays alive hope ur fave authoe updates hope ur work/school is going very very fine #muach muach #okay back to reading. im very unwell in the head rn im sorry #maybe will delete later #babblings #also there is rin and kaiser and neuvi wip too but....

[xbimbogutzzx]

*grabs mic* Derek Goffard a BITC-

a lil WIP so yall don't think I've gone radio silent

#good lord i hate this mf #*also peppers him in smooches* #also i've noticed a few new followers that aren't bots so haiiiiii #i've been working on other projects and doodles and some taking me longer than others #AND MOST OF IT LOVERS TROPHY RELATED LOL #bimbo rambles #WIP

[lovesickgoose]

My current internal conflict is fulfilling anon requests from ages ago, most of which are asking for jeanharry vs. my great need to draw more jeantitus

#either way. jean👍🏻 #at the same time I'm yelling at myself to not start anything new and actually finish a drawing #wait let me count how many wips i have #oh my god. 12 #good lord #not scribbling

[shrunkupthejams]

WIP Intro but I have too much ADHD for this Edition: Of Sea Jewels and Great Lords 

(Finally my favourite one!! (kind of))

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About title: So, for this I wanted to tie the meanings behind the main characters' surnames into the title while invoking a sense of certain colours and adventure, kind of? It's honestly a bit misleading.. one main character's surname is Bijoux, which is literally just the French word for jewel, and I associate them with indigo, so I put sea jewels in the title. The other main character's surname, Meredith, means something like lord/great lord, so I threw that into the title, too. It's a fantasy adventure story, so I wanted that to carry into the title, and I think it does, but the characters don't actually encounter sea jewels, or great lords; it's mostly just mountains and learning to navigate each other. 

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About: So, in recovering bewitched lost villagers for the village of Nomen, magician Geo Bijoux is saddled with the responsibility of depositing Chad Meredith under a mountain in return for the missing villagers that the local dragon has been protecting. In their reluctant travels in search of a good, uninhabited mountain, Geo learns more of the reason for Chad's eternal imprisonment, and the two, against their wishes, grow closer through their adventures and the unavoidable shenanigans that come with a pair of young magicians traversing a continent. 

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Setting: So I lied when I said Giselle & Darius is chronologically the first story that happens on Dirt; this actually happens 200-300 years before that. (I don't have exact numbers yet,,) Also, it's set all over Astelle, but mostly south of the Heart of Astelle, which is a big mountain.

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Featuring: the gays; healing from trauma; moral grayness; questioning morality, motives, and life choices; riyals to lovers (in a way); getting sick of the person you're roadtripping with, as is wont to happen; competitions of basically who can be the biggest asshole; lots of homesickness; learning to follow your heart. 

---

Do I have a playlist for it? OH YOU BET I DO :)

wip stuff taglist: @multi-lefaiye

#ps.txt #wip: of sea jewels and great lords #wip intro but i have too much adhd for this edition #hi sorry #i am SO HYPED to share this one bc my brain is just buzzing about geo & chad rn and i've barely talked about them yet :/ #but i read the most recent wip i have w/ them today (the one i posted the tantalus line from) and it was good i want to work on it!! #there was some creation myth stuff entwined in there that doesn't work and im going to mame into its own thing but!!! this wip is such new #territory for them!! (*coughs* vulnerability) and like thete are so many feelings being allowed to happen #like it's a TURNING POINT. THIS is where they start getting to a point where they're on equal groubd and can start developing feelings #for each other <3 bc they've spent the rest of the story being bitches to each other honestly but i mean chad's NOT dealing w/ his feelings #about the dragon damning him. and geo just doesn't care about chad at all so why would he be nice? there's literally like nothing in it for #them. but yk travelling together and only spending time with each other for like 9 months will change that.. #**why would they be nice #i frequently fuck up geo's pronouns ughh #they use they/them but i debated using he/him (too) bc i started this wip as a short story for a gr 10 english assignment and got attached #but i was debating bc like anxiety and what would my teacher think? (which: she was literally the theatre teacher so??? what was there to #worry about??) so yeah i get mixed up a lot #ig geo's a bit masc too? more androgynous so yeah #and chad is just he/him but he definitely has tboy swag even tho this is theoretically taking place in some sort of medieval times #but gender works really weirdly in astelle so it works <3 #god these tags better not be longer than the post ive been going on for too long aaagrhfhhdh #also omg i love the header for this it's perfect <3

[gffa]

I have been drifting back to STAR WARS fandom lately and I have been greatly rewarded for it, especially in the gen fic veins, because there have been some banger fics authors have been putting out! And the thing that really gets me in the fannish heart is that there's more and more fics about the Jedi, both for exploring the characters and the culture. I have been able to find multiple fics that have been kind to Mace Windu! I have been able to find multiple fics that explain what attachment actually is to the Jedi and to Star Wars! I have been able to find multiple fics that lift my spirit up or punch me in the feelings in exactly the right way, both for the usual disaster lineage faves, but also for the Jedi as a whole. I'm serious, that means the world to me in this fandom, and I desperately want to share that with you all. LET ME SHOVE FIC AT YOU THAT LOVES THESE CHARACTERS AND THIS WORLD AS MUCH AS I DO!!

FICS THAT PUNCHED ME IN THE FACE WITH HOW GOOD THEY WERE: ✦ wayfinding by night by wrennette, obi-wan & luke & cast, time travel, 10.2k     Before him stood a fellow Jedi, worn and weary with loss. Obi-Wan finds himself on Ahch-To and helps Luke find a path through his grief. ✦ may you inherit his light by notbecauseofvictories, leia & bail & anakin & cast, 2.5k     When your father dies, say the Coruscanti, you are left clutching a star map for a different galaxy. In this, as in many things, Leia is her fathers' daughter. ✦ No Freedom From the Storm (But Peace In Its Midst) by Be_Right_Back, mace & cast, ~1k     Mace is freefalling. On his way down, he meets Hatred, and reaches for Serenity. ✦ "...if you remain his student" by Peppermint_Shamrock, anakin & ahsoka & cast, 3.9k     Ahsoka doesn't leave the Jedi Order. This does not save Anakin. This was never going to save Anakin. Nor stop him. ✦ a distant fire is burning by e_va, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & cal, time travel, 47.4k wip     Cal Kestis can move backwards in time (kinda-sorta-not really), and his confrontation with Darth Vader in the Fortress Inquisitorius plays out a lot differently. Fixing the timeline while stuck in his 10-year-old body will be quite the task, but Cal is up to it. He has to be. (Obi-Wan, Anakin, and the clone troopers have no idea what to make of Kenobi's weird new padawan. At least the kid fits in, though.) ✦ No Death, Only the Force by ExtraPenguin, anakin & mace & depa & shmi, 2.8k     Anakin Skywalker is just about to to free his mother from the Tuskens when the Force rudely yanks him to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant – and into Mace Windu's body. Mace, on the other hand, gets tossed into Anakin's body on Tatooine. ✦ Well Met by avocadomoon, obi-wan/padme (unconsumated) & corde & anakin, 19k     "Here and then gone again," Padmé said. "It must be lonely." "Sometimes," Obi-Wan said. "But a Jedi is never truly alone."

THIS FANDOM HAS A HAMMER AND A WHOLE BUNCH OF NAILS AND A REALLY GOOD STAPLE GUN, WE'RE FIXING WHAT CANON BROKE AND NOBODY CAN STOP US NOT EVEN GOD: ✦ Begin again by mauvera, obi-wan & qui-gon & anakin & padme & mace & dooku & cast, time travel, 78.9k     Five years into his self imposed exile on Tattooine, Obi-Wan Kenobi is gifted the chance to go back and bring hope back to the galaxy. With hindsight on his side, he fully intends to save his master, save his padawan, make some new and old friends again, prepare the Jedi for a war they’ll hopefully never see and begin to pull apart all the many tangled threads of the Sith Lord’s plans. ✦ Repetition by Peppermint_Shamrock, cody & obi-wan, time loop, 3k     Cody wakes up from a nightmare on the way to Utapau, again and again.

CANON-COMPLIANT (MOSTLY, UP TO A CERTAIN POINT, WHATEVER) DISASTER LINEAGE: ✦ it's like i can feel time moving by gigglesandfreckles, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka, 5.4k     “Hi,” Anakin says. It's after midnight. “Is everything alright?” “Can’t a man stop by his old master’s room?” Obi-Wan stares at him blankly. “Are you out of food?” ✦ yes, I will take you / I will love you, again by foreverstudent, obi-wan & anakin & cast, time travel, 2.5k     "So you have tried, Padawan." Qui-Gon takes a moment, and his expression is steely but not unkind--the one Obi-Wan remembers from particularly grueling training sessions. "Would you try again, if you had the chance?" OWK!Obi-Wan gets another chance, with a child he once left behind. ✦ No Good Deed Goes Unpunished by kittona, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka, 1.1k     Anakin gets a bit overprotective when his loved ones are sick. Luckily, he has the best home remedy for a cold. ✦ nothing a cup of tea can't fix by gigglesandfreckles, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka, 1.5k     when Anakin shows up to Obi-Wan's quarters in the middle of the night, the Jedi Master knows something has gone awry. answering Anakin's desperate cry for help, Obi-Wan is reminded of how very, very prone to dramatics his former padawan and grand padawan are. or Ahsoka gets sick and Anakin flips his shit. ✦ Stick Figures by KCKenobi, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka, 2k     war is hard. war is draining. to make it more bearable, little mementos* are routinely given. *mementos: encouraging notes, funny little drawings, little gifts, fun snacks, and poems which might get Anakin in trouble. ✦ When the Ground Breaks by stolen_pen_name23, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka, 4.7k     An earthquake causes devastation on the planet of Berchest. Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Ahsoka work together to help save civilians until disaster pulls them apart. ✦ never fear, young one by marverse, obi-wan & ahsoka & cast, 6.2k     Ever since her first day of being a padawan, Ahsoka Tano remembers the words that Master Skywalker had once told her. And every time, she wonders, wonders, and wonders. ✦ the street's a little kinder when you're home by gigglesandfreckles, obi-wan & anakin, 5.2k     "So catch me up," Anakin says. "What did I miss?” Nothing. Nothing happens when you’re gone. “Oh, the usual.” [or: anakin goes missing. obi-wan doesn't handle it well.] ✦ holding anchor by foreverstudent, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka, 3.2k     At the landing of Point Rain, an injured Obi-Wan allows himself to be sentimental over his former padawan, and Anakin patches up his old master. ✦ Nothing to Say by KCKenobi, obi-wan & anakin & satine, 3.2k     (or: Anakin and Satine don’t know how to talk to each other. Until they remember the very important thing they have in common.) ✦ Aggressive Negotiations by SkyBlue1309, obi-wan & anakin & cast, 2.2k     People forget that Anakin was raised by the Negotiator. He was bound to pick up on a thing or two. ✦ At The Window by Peppermint_Shamrock, obi-wan & anakin, ~1k     In the early days of Anakin's apprenticeship, Obi-Wan searches for him in the Temple. ✦ The Words by Ibelin, obi-wan & anakin, 3.9k     Obi-Wan Kenobi has never said I love you in his life. He can say a lot of other things, though.

JEDI CULTURE AND WORLDBUILDING AND CELEBRATION: ✦ Refractions of Light by Independence1776, ezra & kanan, 1.3k     Kanan celebrates a Jedi holiday with Ezra. ✦ The grand outing by Ingata, dooku & sifo-dyas & obi-wan & bant & garen & reeft & yoda & cast, 4.5k     Eight younglings and two Jedi masters on a field trip. What could possibly go wrong? ✦ into the statue that breathes by spoonks, obi-wan & feemor & cast, 8.5k     The night watch in the garden was supposed to be the calmest of them all. No mischievous Padawans “sneaking” in or out, or ne’er-do-well civilians conducting “business” around the lower-level entrances that they didn’t know existed. No the gardens was still, and it was like time was frozen in ice that slowly melted away with the rising of the sun. A slow drip, drip— Drip. Immediately Feemor turned towards the central waterfall. Someone was standing there. Whoever they were, they were small and moved through katas with their hands open like a greeting. ✦ The Temple vs. Order 66 by LauraBWrites, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & cody & jedi & jedi temple, 3.9k     The Temple cannot defy the Will of the Force. But it can, it will prepare for the possible outcomes. It can damn well fight back. ✦ We Three Runaways. by Aethir, obi-wan & depa & komari, 2.7k     In which Depa and Obi-Wan bond, and a new sister is found. ✦ A Short Break by Peppermint_Shamrock, luke & yoda, ~1k     Luke complains about his training, and asks about Jedi training of old. ✦ we are made of our longest days by bereft_of_frogs, obi-wan & anakin & cast, 4.4k     Two years after the events of The Phantom Menace, Obi-Wan and his new apprentice are called to a remote moon to fetch a baby who’s showing signs of a rare, unique power. On their journey home, Obi-Wan reflects on the last child he brought to the Temple and catches a faint glimpse of three possibly entwining futures.

I AM A PREQUELS ERA BITCH AND I'M MAKING THAT EVERYONE ELSE'S PROBLEM: ✦ the salle at dawn by maragny, anakin & mace, 1.5k wip     Master Windu is the best duellist in the Jedi Order. When Anakin Skywalker is seventeen, he duels Mace for the first time, and it ruins both of them for anyone else. ✦ Saving People Counts as Revenge, Right? by ImperialKatwala, obi-wan & anakin & dooku, time travel, 4.3k wip     Count Dooku of Serenno is an intelligent man. His methods may be a bit severe, and he may not be allowed true freedom to plan campaigns in the war he helped create, but he has always had an eye for strategy. Moving the pieces around the board and plotting out where they will need to be next. So, when he opens his eyes after Anakin Skywalker cut his head off, he knows to take a moment to assess what’s going on. ✦ if I could find solid ground again by maragny, anakin & depa, 1.5k     “You never told me what we’re doing today,” Anakin says, a little hesitant. “I…I don’t know much about Jedi things yet.” "Good thing we’re not doing Jedi things, then,” Depa replies. “We’re cooking!” Or, Anakin and Depa, finding their places in their family. ✦ Birds Fly in Different Directions by Triscribe, jedi & clones, time travel, 14.6k     In the corridor beyond her quarters, other Jedi were emerging from their own doors, most of them wide-eyed with shock. A few merely looked blearily concerned, and Aayla heard snatches of questions as she darted past, queries as to whether everyone experienced the same distressing vision. But those who clutched at their chests or throats, their weak points- those Jedi bore a muted horror in their eyes, and Aayla didn’t doubt they’d just suffered their own betrayals from trusted men.

✦ The Master, The Padawan, and The Force by Pandora151, padme & ahsoka, 1.9k     Padmé Naberrie was never one to procrastinate. More than that, she maintained a steady, consistent schedule — something that she’d managed to keep ever since she was a Padawan. She was always on top of everything, from her responsibilities with the war to training her own Padawan, Ahsoka. She was well-known throughout the Order for being steady, reliable. And most notably, no matter what, she didn’t just forget things. Which made her current situation all the more…ridiculous. ✦ Off-by-one Error by Jessepinwheel, obi-wan & cast, 12.2k     A stranger appears in the Jedi Temple. Nobody knows who he is or where he came from. Nobody knows what has happened to him except that it must have been something truly terrible. The stranger's name is Obi-Wan Kenobi. ✦ splinters of light by wrennette, dooku & jocasta & sifo-dyas & yoda & jaster & jango & cast, time travel, 22.5k     When Dooku's dying consciousness was sent back into his younger body, at first he remembered only that something important would happen on Korda VI, and soon. His investigations brought both clarity and confusion, and a conviction that he must atone for evils not yet enacted. ✦ The Road that Reaches by ExtraPenguin, anakin & mace & yoda & depa & shmi, 11.5k     As the Council sits down on Naboo to consider the newly-knighted Obi-Wan Kenobi's request to take young Anakin Skywalker as his padawan, they're informed of what transpired on Tatooine – and that Anakin used to be a slave. Mace Windu goes to interview the young child to confirm this, and gets rather more than he signed up for. ✦ the salle at dawn by maragny, anakin &/ mace, 5.1k     Master Windu is the best duellist in the Jedi Order. When Anakin Skywalker is seventeen, he duels Mace for the first time, and it ruins both of them for anyone else. ✦ through the dark (like two flames) by treescape, kanan/cal & quinlan, 5.3k     A Jedi found him on Bracca. Or, in the weeks after Order 66, Cal Kestis and Caleb Dume are reunited on Jabiim. Five years late, on the run from Inquisitors, they have a decision to make. ✦ Resilience by TemporaryUniverse, obi-wan & mace, 3.3k     Twelve years after his defeat at the Battle of Naboo, Obi-Wan's greatest enemy has returned from the dead. Obi-Wan has faced Maul and lost. Now it is time to face himself. ✦ The Buried Truth is Your Favorite Lie by Peppermint_Shamrock, dooku & yoda, ~1k     Dooku tries and fails to leave the past behind. ✦ Hanging On by the Last Threads of Our Hope by IllyanaA, ahsoka & rex, 5.2k     Ahsoka and Rex have endured too much. After the Fall, they stay together until they can't, but the Force has a way of bringing them back together. It's a fact for which both of them are immeasurably grateful.

MULTIGENERATIONAL STAR WARS IS THE BEST STAR WARS: ✦ Future Tense by CeruleanTactician, obi-wan & anakin & luke, time travel, 1.4k     Obi-Wan and Anakin find themselves twenty years in the future, where they meet a young man by the name of Luke Skywalker. ✦ Keepsakes by Coalmine301, obi-wan & leia, 2k     “You were the one who gave me my bantha, weren’t you?” “Yes,” Obi-wan nodded with a small smile. “Your father told me they were your favorite animal. At least then it was.” ✦ Why the Sith Don't Have Class Reunions by Peppermint_Shamrock, anakin & palpatine & maul & dooku & ventress, time travel, 1.9k     Sith apprentices rarely agree with one another (there’s a reason for the Rule of Two, after all), but Darth Sidious is starting to think that it’s worse when they do. ✦ My Dear Padawan by Tulak_Hord, luke & yoda & palpatine, time travel, 3.2k     In which a time-travelling Luke Skywalker successfully saves the Galaxy in perhaps the most horrifying manner imaginable. ✦ The Return by Pandora151, obi-wan & leia & haja, 1.4k     Haja wonders about the others. He wonders about the people he’s sent to the Path from Daiyu — not just Kenobi and the Princess, but that Force-sensitive boy and his mother, the Nautolan teenager from a few weeks ago, the young Kel Dor child and his even younger siblings. Did they all make it home? Are they safe? Was all of this worth it? ✦ Message From Guiding Light by Batsutousai, obi-wan & leia & mace, time travel, 2.2k     Ben and Leia never make it to Mapuzo on the borrowed supply shuttle, instead finding themselves in the middle of the Clone Wars.

FRIENDSHIP WITH CANON ENDED, THIS COOL AU IS MY NEW BEST FRIEND NOW: ✦ Not A Moment Too Soon by Triscribe, depa & kanan & cast, 2k     The first time she stumbled, her padawan said nothing, simply offering his shoulder for her to lean on. ✦ Parallel Lines by Pandora151, obi-wan & anakin, time travel, time loop, 10.7k     Darth Vader leans back in his chair, allowing a small smile to form on his lips, hidden by his helmet. “There is no escape from this, Obi-Wan,” he utters. He looks down at the neat line of text, and the Force echoes his words. “No escape from the past.” ✦ through the dark (like two flames) by treescape, ca/kanan & quinlan, 5.3k     A Jedi found him on Bracca. Or, in the weeks after Order 66, Cal Kestis and Caleb Dume are reunited on Jabiim. Five years late, on the run from Inquisitors, they have a decision to make. ✦ Loth-Cats and Loth-Rats by TessaDoesThings, mace & depa & kanan & ezra, 19k     All Mace Windu wanted out of the Post-Clone Wars world was a simple trip with his lineage to the long-forgotten Jedi Temples of the Outer Rim. However, on Lothal, the three might have bitten off more than they expected. The Republic may have triumphed, but the roots of what could have become the empire are gripped in the corners of the galaxy, and it might be time for some aggressive space weeding. Or a coup d'etat. That would work too. ✦ a princess, a farmer, a teacher by jesuisdeux, obi-wan & luke & leia & bail, 1.4k     Early in the morning, a girl and few men knock on a door. They don't wear anything resembling a soldier, but Obi-Wan has been a soldier long enough to notice the tense shoulders and wary looks beneath civilian clothing. She doesn't wear anything resembling a princess, but Obi-Wan knows these fierce eyes and grace coming from a righteous cause. or A New Hope AU where Vader doesn't attack Leia's ship and Leia herself delivers the news to Obi-Wan and consequently Obi-Wan doesn't die. ✦ What I Wouldn't Give To See Your Ghost by Triscribe , depa & kanan & cast, time travel, 1.2k     “Who are you?” Depa demanded, externally calm but internally frantic. “What is this place? And where is my padawan?” ✦ when that day comes by katierosefun, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & maul, modern au/reincarnation au, 44.8k     [or: the alternate universe where anakin skywalker has the chance at some new life…but only if he saves the life of a reincarnated obi-wan kenobi. the catch: neither of them know who the other was in the galaxy far, far away…but that might very well change.]

#lumi.txt #star wars #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #ahsoka tano #mace windu #depa billaba #count dooku #luke skywalker #leia organa #fic recs #star wars fic recs #long post

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Winter's King 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)

Characters: Geralt of Rivia

Note: we vibing.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Jazlene comes to with a wispy sigh. You back up and stand as her mother helps her to her feet. The king is back at the table, unbothered by the overcome maiden. Lord Dustan hovers between, torn by loyalty to his liege and his family. New liege, that is. Only yesterday, he was toasting to good King Waleran. 

“My apologies, your highness,” Jazlene fans herself with her hand, “I was only surprised. I didn’t... How could I expect this? To marry a king?” She reaches down to grip her mother’s arm, shakily stepping forward towards the king who doesn’t even glance up from the table of maps, “I promise to you, your highness, I will be a good wife to you.” 

The king tilts his head, tracing a finger along a ridge of mountains, then leans in to examine the riverbeds below. Jazlene looks at her mother, an expression of concern on her pretty features. She is rarely ignored, if at all. She will make sure that she isn’t. 

“Lord Dustan, I expect the dowry will be served along with your men and my kingdom,” the king declares, “but now, I find myself fatigued. A hard day’s ride sees me in need of bath and a bed.” 

Dustan bows his head, “and so you will have it, your highness. I will send down for water--” 

“Have the maid see to it,” the king waves his hand vaguely in your direction, “certainly a servant is a servant.” 

“Yes, your highness, how wise,” Dustan simpers, as he often does to men with titles above his own. “You,” the duke turns and snaps his fingers, “you heard the king. He requires hot water in his chamber.” 

You keep your head down, “yes, my lord.” 

You spin without hesitation. You’re all too happy to be free of the noble intrigue. It is rather easier to be unseen and unthought of. It has ever kept you from envying these ladies and their silks and these lords and their golden signets. 

Your flight is fleet. You rush down the corridor and to the wide stairwell. You descend with your mission and pass Merinda as she paces listlessly outside the kitchens. She stops you with an arm across your path. 

“There are whispers,” she says lowly, “of who visits. Is it true?” 

You look at her. You don’t know if you should say. It isn’t her place and you don’t know what they say. There is rather much gossip in castles. 

“It is,” she hisses, “you don’t need to say it. You are a poor liar and when you say nothing, I know that is the reason.” 

Your lips pinch and you give her a look, “I have been sent to draw a bath.” 

“Oh, is the lady in need of her evening boil?” Merinda snickers. 

“Not her.” 

Merinda quiets and tilts her head, “...him?” 

“The king,” you answer thinly. 

She nods and steps closer, “is he... I don’t understand. His soldiers, they mill about with our own, they cavort together. Not as enemies. Are they not invading? Do they not mean to take the castle?” 

You tear your eyes away. She’s right, you are a poor liar. You lean in, lips right by her ear, you whisper, “Lord Dustan has new allegiances.” 

She claps her hand over her mouth as you back up. She stares at you with wide eyes. She slowly drops her arm and her lip quivers, “he means to get us all killed.” 

You push your shoulders up, “think only of today. It’s all we can do. Oh, do you know where the king’s chambers would be?” 

“Mm, they took his saddlebags to the ivory room. I think there,” she answers, “do you require assistance?” 

“Stay here,” you gird, “he is a brusque man.” 

That only seems to worry her more as her face twists. You can’t help but feel the same inside but you do your best not to let it show. You leave her and carry on to your task. 

You put the kitchen hands to boiling water and send a few others to find a tub to bring to the king’s chambers. You help where you can and take the first bucket up. You pour it into the large tub in the ivory room and return for second, a third, a forth, and fifth. There will be many more even as your arms ache and your nap slickens with sweat. 

Upon the eight, when the tub looks near halfway, the chamber is not empty. You’re surprised by the king’s presence as the door remains ajar. You pour the water with a low apology and diligent ‘your highness.’ He doesn’t respond. 

There is much to go still. Back down, up again, hot water splashing on your sleeves, singing beneath, dumping it over the edge as you keep your eyes on your work. Do not be more than a piece of furniture. You are only air. 

At the last bucket, you pour slowly, careful not to slosh over the edges. As you right the empty pail, you hear a metal chink. The king growls into a long exhale. You turn towards the door. 

“Close it,” he commands, “you will remain.” 

You’re happy he cannot see the look on your face. You obey and close the door. You turn back, standing by the pillar of the door frame, as you often do, and begin your vigil. It should not be unexpected that he may require you to fetch something further for him. 

Your eyes catch the bottom of his mail as he lifts it over his head. No, don’t look. He undresses, leather creaking, fabric rustling, pacing as he strips away each piece. You grip the rope handle of the bucket. He circles the long tub and nears you. You cower, bracing. You are not noticed, you are not approached, unless it is for rebuke. 

He grabs the bucket by the brim and tugs. You let it go. He turns and sets it on the floor away from you. You push your hands together, stilling a tremble. He wears only his breeches and you catch a glimpse of the thatch of hair along his thick stomach. You gulp and twine your fingers through each other. 

He turns away and crosses the room. You listen to the fabric fall from around his hips. Your eyes bore into the floorboards. The water shifts as he climbs into the tub and you listen to him groan as he lowers himself into the depths. The steam mingles with the tension of his silence. 

He sighs and stirs the water. The lull persists as you wait. He will need wine or food.  

“Come,” he bids and your eyes flick up. The tub conceals much of his lower body as his thick shoulders and arms stretch around the brim. “I have a knot.” 

You approach hesitantly, unsure where to aim your eyes the closer you get. He gestures around his head, “stand behind me.” 

You do as he tells you. 

He sits up slightly and bends his head forward, lifting his white hair out of the way, “here.” 

He points along the muscle beside his neck. It’s thick, just like all of him. You’ve never seen a man built like that. There are stringy barn boys and tubby cooks.  

You stare and raise a hand, hovering it over his muscle. Are you supposed to touch him? He is a king and you are a servant. You are a servant sold out of pig shit into servitude. 

His large hand reaches for yours and he guides it down. You shake before he lets you go. You feel the muscle, almost curious, and rub lightly. He makes a noise but you’re unsure of its tenor. 

“Harder,” he demands, “squeeze,” he shows his hand, making a kneading motion, “you cannot hurt me.” You do as he says. You squeeze and he rests his hand against the tub, “harder,” he repeats. 

You obey. 

His head hangs as his long strands touch the water. You bring your other hand up as your efforts make your tendons sore. He lets out shallow breaths and hissing groans. Your chest thumps at the sounds that rise from him. 

“Your master has broken his oath and sworn a new one to me. And you, does that make me your master as well? If I am your master’s master?” He asks slyly. 

You focus on your hands, “your highness?” 

“Answer, don’t be afraid. Liars bore me.” 

You sniff and mull your reply. You don’t know. You don’t have much of a choice in the matter. 

“Lord Dustan is my master. I am bound to serve him.” 

He snorts and lifts his head. You rescind your touch but he reaches back to latch onto your again. He tugs you forward, placing your hand back on his shoulder. 

“Softer now,” he instructs. You rub his damp flesh as he bends a leg, his knee poking above the water. “You, a servant, so low, and you are more loyal than any man with a title.” 

“Your highness, I must serve.” 

“As he must. Did he not swear himself to the old king? Eh? War does muddy the waters,” he muses, “coin does test old ties.” 

You say nothing. Your comment isn’t warranted or wanted. You know better. Jazlene taught you only to answer when asked. 

“Very well,” he taps your fingers, “I feel better. You have a kind touch.” 

You back away and wipe your hands on your apron. He hangs his head back and puffs. He closes his eyes. You watch the white waves made wilder by the humidity of the bath. 

“I hate sleeping in strange places,” he says, “you will stay for the eve.” 

You tuck your chin down and fold your hands together. Your scalp sweats beneath your cap, your shorn locks itchy with the heat. You wet your lips and force out the air trapped in your chest, “yes, your highness. As my master bid, I will serve you.” 

He says nothing more as he leans back against the tub completely. His large arms frame the metal and his hands wrap around the edges. He closes his shining eyes in recline, the water still and steaming. He stays that way until the damp heat dissipates. You stand locked in his thrall. 

He sits forward suddenly, the water stirring with his movement. He turns his hand and beckons with his thick fingers. 

“A bath sheet,” he demands. 

You go to the chest in the corner and open it. You retrieve a folded swath of fabric and bring it to him. He stands as you unfold the length of linen to obscure his form. Your eyes are on the ceiling as the water slakes from his figure and he looms large above you. 

He steps out, close to you, and puts his hands over yours. He pulls the sheet around his body, your arms too. He releases you only as he adjusts the fabric around his waist and you retract with humiliation nipping in your cheeks. You lean back on your heel as you shrink in his shadow. 

“Your highness, do you require refreshment? Wine? Sweetmeats?” 

“I did not ask for it,” he says, “I am tired.” 

“Apologies, your highness.” 

“Do not apologise for doing your duty. Would be a fairer world if more were so diligent.” 

He turns and strides away. There’s a knapsack and bedroll against the wall. He keeps one hand on the sheet and unbuckles the flap, reaching within and tugging out a bed shirt. He drops the sheet away and your eyes flit away from his nakedness. He has no shame but you are merely a servant. He shouldn’t care for your witness. 

He swipes the fabric over his head and it falls just to his thighs, concealing just enough to have him decent. His thick legs are trimmed in dark hair and the muscles are taut beneath his skin. He faces the bed and pulls back the quilt and linen. He pauses and looks up at you. 

“Will you sleep afoot then?” He wonders. 

“Your highness?” You wince. “I must...” you peer around, “empty the bath.” 

“Must you? Stagnant water can wait,” he insists. “Come.” 

You waver, skirts rippling around your legs. You step forward and stagger. 

“The lantern, your highness?” You inquire. 

“Douse the light if you will,” he allows. “And come.” 

You do as he bids and snuff out the flame. Your vision is left blackened and formless. You reach out blindly, realising your error too late. You can’t see much as you walk warily towards the bed. The heavy curtains are shut and block out the sliver of moonlight. 

Your knees hit the bed and you gasp. You catch yourself before you can fall forward, leaning against the mattress. You’re stuck like that, uncertain if you should go forward or back. Something wraps around your wrist, a stolid heat. 

“I often sleep with my horse,” the king says as he draws you onto the bed. “I need a warm body close.” 

You go rigid as you let him command your body. He guides you to lay down and tugs the bedclothes over you. The damp specks on your dress and apron cling to your skin. He leads your head over his thick arm as he lays on his back neck to you. You stare into the endless void of the canopy. 

“The horse smells much worse and snores,” he muses, his arm curling around your shoulders, offering a more comfortable rest for your head and neck. You quiver at being so close. It is an odd request but you daren’t decline it. “Be still,” his other hand comes to touch your sleeve, “and sleep. I only mean to ease my own unrest.” 

You close your eyes and exhale. Your heart is pounding and your body is tingling. You don’t think you can sleep with the surge flowing through you. He sighs and shifts slightly. You lay there, in silence, only the noise of his breath and yours to fill the castle walls. 

“I am awake,” he says. “Speak to me, maid. Tell me, where do you lay your head on nights where a king does not trouble you?” 

You wiggle slightly. Your spine is uncomfortable at the flatness but not worse than your usual fare. You bring your hand over your chest and fist your fingers tight. 

“On a bag of hay with Merinda,” you utter smally, pushing your legs together as you arch your back slightly. Your hips are tight. 

You’re startled as the bed jostles and he grips your hip. He rolls you onto your side, his touch lingers as he pulls you against him. He is as hot as a hearth. 

“Merinda?” He repeats. 

“Another handmaid, your highness.” 

He hums and drags his hand away from your hip. He blows out a great heavy and grunts. His arm curls around you snugly. 

“I hope I am preferable to that bag of hay,” he mutters and the tension seeps away from his form. “Though perhaps just as prickly.” 

#geralt of rivia #dark geralt #dark!geralt #geralt of rivia x reader #the witcher #winter's king #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #medieval au

[sopejinsunflower]

a/n: so this was stuck too long in my WIP it might feel a little rushed at the end but  I’ve been in a slump for awhile so this is a small win to be able to finished. I hope you like demon Jimin. 

Warning: 18+, minors DNI, virgin reader, deception, a little Stockholm Syndrome-ish, death/suicide insinuated (this one’s dark, so please be caution before reading)

Summary: Having an imaginary friend is normal for most kids. What’s not normal is when you don’t outgrow it well in your teens. He’s persistent and possessive but when you meet who you thought was the love of your life, can you really deny your own heart? Even when he’s a demon lord?

Pairing: Park Jimin x you, Kim Taehyung, Kim Namjoon, Kim Seokjin

Tags: Demon Jimin! Yandere Jimin! Penetrative sex, controlling partner, deception, dom Jimin ofc because obviously this is supposed to be Set Me Free inspired.

Word count: 14k

FIVE

The small hand wrapped around the pencil made the stationery look twice its usual size, gliding over the white paper as the little girl scribbled, forehead creasing in concentration, tongue sticking out. 

“What are you drawing?” her mother asked, leaning over to see the purple drawing. It’s a little difficult to make out but she can see two stick figures, one sitting down at a table with pigtails, drawing something, the other hunched down in the corner of the room. The woman pointed to the figure with pigtails. “Is that you, sweetie?”

The little girl nodded, pigtails flying into her face. 

“And who’s this?” her mother pointed to the figure in the corner.

Without looking up, the pencil still moving over the paper as she added in more details, she answered, “Jimin.”

“Who’s Jimin? Is he your new friend from kindergarten?”

The girl shook her head. 

Her mother frowned, a little confused. “Oh? Is he one of the Kim boys? I forgot their names.”

Again, the girl shook her head. She finally stopped drawing and looked up to her mother, sighing as if annoyed she had to explain this simple thing. “No. Jimin lives in my closet, mummy. He doesn’t go outside.”

Her mother’s blood ran cold, the words stuck in her throat. She watched her daughter go back to drawing, not even realising the way her mother’s heart was going wild. She licked her lips and tried to calm herself. An imaginary friend. That’s all, she thought. “I see. I didn’t know you have a friend in your closet. Is he a little boy?”

The girl sighed. “Of course. He’s my age.” She paused, putting the end tip of the pencil to her lips. “I think.”

The mother breathed a sigh of relief. She stood up and ruffled the little girl’s head. “Okay. Well, make sure you two play nicely, okay? And clean up after you’re done playing. Got it?”

“Okay, mummy,” the girl said, going back to her little art. Just as her mother was about to leave the room, the woman heard the girl continue to talk. “Did you hear that, Minnie? We can’t make any messes, okay? Or I’ll get in trouble.”

The woman smiled bitterly to herself. Being a single mother is hard enough and her daughter having an imaginary friend only further proves how lonely she was. She just hopes the Kim boys will be good friends with her, enough so that she won’t need an imaginary friend anymore. New place, new possibility, right? 

Sighing, she disappeared into the kitchen. “Honey, we're leaving in ten minutes. I need you to be ready by then,” she shouted over her shoulder as she prepared the girl’s overnight bag for the Kim’s household.

THIRTEEN

“Give it back, Taehyung! Give it back!”

You chase the laughing boy around the kitchen island, grabbing an apple from the bowl, ready to lug it at his head when Jin appears around the corner and easily plucks the ribbon from Taehyung’s hand. He gestures for the apple instead and you exchange the items; throwing the apple his way as he slides the ribbon across the island. “Thanks,” you say to him as Taehyung sulks. “It’s good to know not all of you are jackasses.”

Taehyung sticks his tongue out at you before going upstairs to his room, leaving you with the eldest. Munching on the apple, Jin points to the ribbon. “Another award?”

You nod, suddenly shy. “Yeah.”

“Oh, which one?” he asks, intrigues.

“Jimin.”

Jin chuckles. “Don’t you draw anything else?” 

“I do,” you snap, the shyness quickly replaced with annoyance. “But the Jimin ones always come out the best. And why is everyone so pressed about what I paint?”

“Because,” Jin says, taking another bite of the apple, “you’re literally drawing a ghost. He doesn’t exist yet he’s so,” he waves his hand around, “vivid. Enough for you to paint him like that. You’re obsessed with him.”

“I’m not obsessed!” you retort. “And he’s not a ghost.”

“Right. Your imaginary friend when you were five,” Jin adds. “That you keep drawing even until today. It is a little weird considering the fact that you’re drawing him the same age as you.”

You shoot him a dirty look. “Aren’t you going to class or something?”

Jin laughs. “I am.” He picks up his bag and slung it over one shoulder. “And this is my house, by the way.”

You roll your eyes at him. “Fine. I’m leaving anyway.”

“I’ll drive you home,” Jin offers.

“No, thanks. I’ll walk. I don’t want to meet your college friends,” you say, hurrying out the back door before he can protest. You stuff the blue ribbon into your bag and briskly walk up the street to your place. 

“You’re angry. Why?”

“I’m not,” you huff out, keeping your eyes up front. 

“You are.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re lying to me.”

At the change of Jimin’s tone of voice, you finally turn around to look at him. His eyes have grown darker, pupils dilating to the point that the whites of his eyes are gone. The stormy look on his face is enough to scare you to admit the truth. “I don’t like it when people talk about you like I’m crazy.”

“Why do you care what others think?” he scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. 

You don’t answer, looking down at your feet sullenly as you walk. 

“And what’s with Jin, huh?” he prods, leaning close to your face. “I told you to keep away from him. I told you to keep away from all of them.”

“They’re nice,” you say lamely. “I don’t know what your problem is with them.”

“They’re always trying to break us apart. I don’t like anyone who tries to break us apart.”

You remain quiet the rest of the way home because arguing with him is futile. He always gets his way, you think, as Jimin places a cold hand on your shoulder, his fingertips sinking into your flesh.

TWENTY

The world is spinning a mile a minute and the arm wrapped around your middle is only making you want to puke even more. 

Namjoon slowly places you across the sofa, making sure both your feet are up before he finally fully lets you go; gently, of course. He rushes to the kitchen to get a glass of water and an ibuprofen for when you wake up just as Taehyung emerges from the bathroom with a bucket to place by your side. 

You’re murmuring something, your words slurred, making it hard for Taehyung to understand. He puts his ear close to your mouth, listening hard in case you’re telling him something important. 

“What’s she saying?” Namjoon asks as he comes back in. He places the glass of water on the coffee table and the painkiller tablet next to it. “Damn, maybe we should’ve gone easy for her first time drinking.”

Taehyung shrugs, motioning for him to stay quiet. 

“Jimin,” you mumble through barely opened lips. “Don’t hurt them.”

Taehyung backs away, eyebrows raised all the way up. He turns to his older brother. “She’s calling for Jimin.”

Namjoon’s face clouds over, frowning in concern. “I thought she'd gotten over that phase years ago.”

  “Jimin, Jimin,” you call out, your voice growing louder, somewhat distraught. Taehyung and Namjoon exchange glances, unsure of what to do. Just as it suddenly started, you become quiet, breathing evens out as you sleep. Occasionally, your forehead creases over like you’re having a bad dream but the two brothers are just relieved that you’re passed out. 

“That was” Namjoon says, “unnerving.”

Taehyung gently pushes back your hair from your face, subtly caressing your cheek with the back of his hand. He thinks Namjoon doesn’t see it but if he did the older one remains quiet. Taehyung stands up. “I’ve texted her mum. She’ll be home soon. Let’s go.”

“You sure we can leave her alone?” Namjoon looks unsure about leaving but he also can’t deny the unsettling feeling creeping down his back, like he’s being watched. 

Taehyung hesitates before answering, “She’s sleeping now. Should be fine. Come on.”

In the old leather armchair in the corner of the room, Jimin watches as the two Kim brothers walk out of the house, not missing the way Taehyung looks back at you before closing the door behind him. He had seen the way that boy touched you, had seen the way he had pined over you all these years yet you never listen. 

Jimin squats down next to your head, one finger tracing the outline of your face. “I told you to stay away from those boys but you never listen to me,” he whispers, his words piercing straight into your dreams. “And here you are, drunk from your first time drinking. Twentieth birthday and you spent it with them.” You moan, turning your head away. Jimin smiles but there’s no tenderness in his face. 

When you open your eyes, the room is pitch black, so dark that even the bed underneath you is invisible. You turn your head, trying to look around but one movement makes you realise that both your wrists are shackled to the bedposts, or what looks like the direction of where the bedposts are supposed to be. The iron chains clang noisily as you pull on them. Immediately, your heart drops. 

“Jimin,” you call out, your voice coming out weak. “Jimin, please. Where are you? You know I don’t like being here alone.”

“I know, my sweetness,” comes his voice from within the darkness. He materialises in front of you, standing at the foot of what is supposed to be the bed in his usual all black leather pants and boots. He’s bare from the waist up, his toned body on full display; something that’s never happened before. “It’s amusing that after all this time, you still haven’t gotten used to this place.”

“Get these chains off, please,” you say, doing your best to keep your voice soft despite the panic rising in your chest. Yes, you’ve been in this space before but never like this. Something is different. “My wrists hurt.”

Jimin tuts, shaking his head. “Not yet. They need to be on for now.”

“What’s going on? Why is it different this time?”

“Because, my love,” he says, walking over to your side, the echoes of the heels of his shoes loud in your ears, “today’s your twentieth birthday. It’s time for your initiation.”

“Initiation?” you ask, looking up at him. 

“Yes, love. Have you forgotten?” He places a hand on your head, the icy cold of his skin making you shiver to the bones. 

“For what?”

Jimin smiles widen, something that has never offered warmth for as long as you’ve known him. Something inside you withers in fear but you can’t deny the other sensation starting up like a fire being lit up at the sight of his beautiful face split by that awful, awful smile. Jimin kneels down on one knee, bringing his face close to yours. “To entwine your soul with mine.”

A dry chuckle escapes your lips before you can stop yourself. “ You’d have to be real to have a soul, Minnnie. You’re just a…”

The look on Jimin’s face takes away the words from your tongue. He knows something you don’t, something you’ve had a hunch about all these years yet had been too stubborn or too scared to actually make yourself face it. With a blink, Jimin’s eyes turn jet black and your breath is stuck in your throat. “What are you?”

Jimin lets out a laugh, a loud belly-aching, rumbling laugh that seems to echo all around the space as he throws his head back. It’s not a nice sound and yet he never ceases to look just as mesmerising as always. The contradiction is throwing you off. 

“Fifteen years and only now you’re asking,” says Jimin when he finally stops, looking down at you with such pity. “I think it’s too little too late, my sweetness.”

You gulp tightly around the lump in your throat. “And what if I refuse? To do the initiation?”

The smile is quickly wiped off his face and suddenly he’s on top of you, straddling your chest but not really sitting. He leans his arms over the wall behind you, sneering down at you in a way that strikes both fear and anticipation of what he can and will do, making your stomach turn in a somersault. “It’s not a choice, love,” he hisses, his breath hot on your cheek. “I will have you, one way or the other.”

The menacing tone of his voice makes your heart beat faster. “Wh-what do you mean? Jimin, you’re scaring me,” you stutter out, the chains around your wrists rattling ominously. “I want to go back. Take me back, Minnie.”

“I will, just not right now,” he purrs into your ears. “Honestly, I’m hurt. Your twentieth and you celebrated with others, the Kim brothers no less. And you ignored me the whole night.”

“They threw me a surprise birthday party,” you counter, pleading. “How can I just walk away? They’ve been nothing but nice to me. They’re like my own brothers. They took care of me when my mother wasn’t around.”

“I took care of you!” he bellows, his eyes burning red this time. “I kept you company all of those times you’d cry yourself to sleep missing your dear mummy. I chased away all the bad dreams at night, I stayed with you every night when you couldn’t sleep without a night light on. Not them! They just swoop in when you move into a new place, free babysitting for your neglectful mother. They did all the easy work.”

You can’t help the way your throat constricts from being yelled at, something Jimin, in all his sadistic traits, had never actually done. Jimin sees the way your face crumples as you bite on your upper lip to keep them from wobbling and he cools off a little. He leans his forehead against yours, his dark fringe falling over his eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m just frustrated. You ignored me at the party.”

Your heart jumps at the sight of him sad. You try to touch him but your wrists are still bound, clanging the chains noisily when you move. “I’m sorry, Minnie. I- I got carried away. I was overwhelmed. There were so many people. You know I won’t ignore you on purpose, Minnie.” 

Jimin stares into your eyes, that same puppy-like look still swimming in his gaze, the kind of look that melts you so easily. It effectively wrecks you with guilt whenever you do something he doesn’t approve of, an ammo he’s used over and over again throughout the years. You lean into him as best you can with the chains’ restriction. “You believe me, right? Minnie? You know I need you.”

“Do you? After all these years, I’m starting to think you’ve forgotten that promise you made me,” he says, visibly pouting, sounding the saddest he had ever been. “You promised me that you won’t ever leave me if I keep the monsters away.”

You lick your lips and nod. Yes, you remember that promise, made when you were five, that first night he climbed out of your closet last, after all the other shadows came out first. In return to keep you safe from the others, you made that promise that only a child could. 

“I’ve kept the monsters away, haven’t I?”

You nod. 

“I’ve kept you safe every night from then on, haven’t I?”

You nod again.

“And so why do you choose the brothers over me?”

You swallow, shaking your head. “I don’t. I choose you.”

The corner of Jimin’s lips twitch. “You do?”

You give a small nod. 

“Really? I’m not convinced,” he states, readjusting his position, sitting a bit lower so that he rests on your pelvic bone. 

“I do,” you whisper out, feeling the heat creeping up from your waist down. It’s an odd feeling, something that has never happened before. 

Jimin’s more of a childhood friend, imaginary as he is. You both grew up together, just you and him against the world when your world had been so dark and so lonely, back when your mother would leave for work before the sun had even risen and come home when you’re already asleep. He was your saviour first then a friend, a protector and a companion but somewhere between being a tween and when puberty hits, he became a deep, dark secret. 

No one could see him and after enduring being called a liar and ostracised in the first grade, you learnt the hard way to keep your mouth shut and pretend he wasn’t there following you everywhere you go when in public. You told everyone that Jimin had disappeared, that you had outgrown him just as any children with their own imaginary friends. Only the paintings remain. In truth, you’re not even sure why you painted him in the first place but those paintings are the only times when people would actually listen when you talk about him. In the past tense, of course. 

Jimin is beautiful. He’s ethereal and your paintings of him were haunting. They evoke emotions from those who see them, making them pause and stare and weep if they look too long. You don’t paint him a lot, only five among the hundreds of canvases, one for each time Jimin had brought you into this dark space you don’t have a name for, yet they attracted the most attention, so much so that you got a full ride to the Royal College of Art. But Jimin won’t let you go. 

Jimin grinds onto you, leaning over so his face is inches from yours. “You do what? Give me the full sentence, love.”

Your throat is dry but you force your voice out anyway. “I choose you, Jimin.”

“Always?”

You whimper as he presses his crotch against yours, the sneer back on his face. “Always.”

The first time Jimin brought you into this space, you were six. It was an escape, a quiet safe space from the raging storm outside and your mother was still not home. You two had huddled together. The second time was at twelve, when your mother’s boyfriend of 6-months kept creeping into your room at night. Jimin had been furious then and while you hid in this space, Jimin promised you he would tell the man to stay away. He never returned to the house since and though your mother cried for his disappearance, claiming that she’d been ghosted, whatever that meant, you had been the happiest.

At fourteen, when the boy you thought you liked, asked you out as a prank for the whole class to laugh at you, the dark space was where you ran to hide, sobbing into Jimin’s embrace. It had been at the end of the school year but when the new semester started, the boy and his family had left town so suddenly that people only heard about it two weeks after. Taehyung had said, “Good riddance,” and even though you were relieved, it had felt too coincidental.

It was at sixteen when the hunch came about, growing in the pit of your stomach like some kind of fungus. A family had just moved in next door and they had a son, Adam, a year older than you; shy and sweet-seeming the first time he came around with his parents, exchanging pleasantries and jokes with your mum at the front door. They moved in the middle of the year and your mum had assured Adam that you would show him the ropes at school, to which you had obliged. Both you and Taehyung had gladly taken him under your wings, including him into your fold of friend group (which included only you and the Kim brothers, really). 

It took him less than three months to finally show his true colours. He had broken into your house when nobody was home and when you came back from your part-time job at the yoghurt shop, he had sprang out from the closet and pinned you to the bed. You don’t remember the rest of the details, except seeing Jimin looming behind him. You blinked and you were in the dark space, away and safe from danger. The next morning, his parents found him hanging in his closet, stiff and blue. They moved away shortly after that.

“I prefer you being here with me, mind, body and soul,” drawls Jimin, pulling you back to the now. “Where did you go?”

You’re pulled away from your train of thoughts and see Jimin leaning over you, eyes black, anger written all over his face. “Sorry,” you whisper. 

“You’ve chosen me,” he hisses through gritted teeth. “Act like it.”

He grabs your sides, nails digging into your flesh and you wince in pain. “I’m sorry, Minnie. I’m here. With you.” You take a deep breath. “Mind, body and soul.”

“As you should,” he says, his voice softening. He nuzzles your neck and you feel his teeth nip just along the collarbone. “Tonight, you will officially be mine.”

You feel his hands move slowly to your chest, softly kneading your breasts while his mouth never leaves your neck. You feel him press himself flat against you, the bulge in his pants so prominent you can feel the shape of him. You lay there, frozen, unable to say no nor even move away. Your heart is in your mouth and you’re too afraid that if you say something, it’s going to jump out and you’ll be dead. 

Jimin pulls away, staring directly into your eyes. The jet black orbs in his sockets reflect back your fear-stricken face but he isn’t fazed. He smiles and your stomach twists and before you can do anything (not that you are capable anyway), his lips are on yours and it feels like your whole body is on fire, and not the good kind either. Your lips feel like someone had stuck live wires directly to them and the burning pain makes you scream out, muffled by his mouth. Tears pool in your eyes.

Then you feel his tongue snake in and your eyes widen in surprise: a forked tongue. You struggle to get away but Jimin holds the back of your head in place, grabbing a fistful of your hair. The chains around your wrists clang noisily next to your ears as you start to squirm under him. Squirm as you are, your mouth seems to be reacting the opposite way; moulding with his like they want to be fused together; you both want him and are disgusted by him, lips pulling him in, body resisting. He finally pulls back, displeased.

“I want to go back. Please,” you sob, unable to hold back the tears anymore.

“We’re not done yet,” he says, forked tongue catching the tears. “I haven’t even started, my sweetness.”

Your heart skips a beat. “Start?”

“The initiation, you silly goose.” He continues to lick down your neck, catching your earlobe in between his teeth. 

You swallow hard. “Jimin, what is the initiation?”

“You have to give me something you’ve never given anyone else before,” he whispers into your ear and the hairs on your neck and arms stand on end. He moves to the other ear to add, “Your virginity, my love. Your one and only. It shall be mine.”

Jimin’s fingers unbutton your jeans and just as he’s about to shimmy it down, your brain clicks and you finally yell out, “Wait!”

Jimin lets out a growl, raising only his ember eyes to glare at you. “What?”

You’re breathing hard as your mind races to try and find a good excuse. You’ve never even had a boyfriend, never even got the chance to go on a first date. While your female friends, limited in number as they are, gushed about their partners, about the things they would do, about the sweet little gifts they’d get on Valentine’s, you had smiled and been happy for them, doing your best to ignore the bitter feelings clawing at the back of your throat. 

You’ve had suitors, of course, but for some reason they never stick around. They’d ask you out but then stood you up when you arrived with not even a text to explain or apologise. If they managed to get past the first date, you never hear from them again after it ends. You’re only twenty, your whole life is ahead of you. It’s stupid but you want your first time with a man to be special. You want to be loved up, taken out on dates, wooed off your feet and be promised the world even if it’s all a lie. 

Jimin is looking at you, head tilted to the side. “You want all that?”

You stare at him. “Huh?”

Jimin frowns. “All the things you were thinking about just now. You want all that?”

 “How-”

“Just answer the question,” he snaps impatiently.

You nod, unable to say the words. Jimin sighs, tilting his head upwards like he’s facing with a minor inconvenience. “But why? It’s such a waste of time.”

“I-,” you stutter but clear your throat and try again, although your voice comes out small. “I’ve never experienced it. I want to know what it feels like. All this time I’ve only ever seen others go through it and I just…I just want to know what it feels like. To fall in love and to be loved.”

When Jimin doesn’t say anything, you quickly add, “I won’t…I won’t have to sleep with the person. I can tell them I’m waiting for marriage.” At this Jimin snorts but you ignore him. “Just…just let me experience all that and then you…you can have my…my everything.”

You’re not sure what Jimin will say but he looks like he’s actually thinking about it. “I promise,” you say, just to convince him. 

Jimin crosses his arms over his chest, his eyes going back to normal. “Okay, fine.”

You can’t believe what you’re hearing. “Really?”

He nods, almost excitedly. “Sure. Anything for you, my love.” He leans down once again, caressing your forehead. “I’ll let you have all that. And after that, I’ll take what’s mine.”

“Thank you,” you whisper out, feeling elated. “Thank you, Minnie. I promise I’m yours.”

Jimin smiles. “That you are.”

You’re back in the real world, already in your own bed. Jimin is nowhere to be seen and he’s still not around the next day. A week passed by and you haven’t seen any sights of him anywhere, like he’s just gone. Like he was never there. It’s strange to suddenly be alone, truly alone for the first time in years but it’s also liberating. You’re free.

A month later, you’re starting to believe that it had all been your imagination after all, that maybe you believed in him so much so that you made him real. You spend more time with the Kim brothers, even get to travel to Europe to visit the Royal College of Arts with Taehyung to see if you’d like the place. You do, so you take up the scholarship and move abroad with him, although he goes to a different school. 

You made a lot of friends, went to a lot of parties and art shows. You painted a lot, too, and none of them of the man that haunted your youth. Even his face is a blur, memories that seem to be fading faster than normal and by your sophomore year, you’ve forgotten all about him. 

You travelled a lot, mostly around Europe, with different friend groups as well as the Kim brothers whenever your holidays aligned. You met a lot of people, went out on a million dates, experimented with different genders and even had a short fling with an up-and-coming actor, but the one thing you could never do was fall completely in love.

You’d meet someone you think will be the one but nothing ever survived past the third month. This time, it’s not them; it’s you. You just can’t seem to give them your all, pulling away the moment they fall. You don’t know why either and you have no intention of hurting people. So you stop, telling people you no longer have any interest, that you’re asexual, that you’re anything but normal so that people will leave you alone instead of trying to set you up or ask you out.

You miss the connection, you miss having someone to come home to, someone to be there when you wake up from another nightmare. But if you can’t give it your all, it’s only fair you don’t give anything at all. Thus, your purity remains.

 TWENTY-SEVEN

You finish applying the fresh coat of lipstick in the mirror, standing back and admiring the view, making sure that not a hair is out of place and your makeup is perfect. Satisfied, you give yourself a nod.

“Let’s do this,” you say to yourself, snapping your purse shut and fixing your skirt. You exit the ladies’ room and make your way to the meeting room. A new partner is coming on board and you, being one of the leading managers for the big project next month, will have to give a presentation to the man, a briefing to bring him up to speed. You take a deep breath and enter.

Your team and your boss, Martin, are all sitting around the big oval table. They look up and visibly relax when they see it’s you. You look around the room. “He’s not here yet?”

“He’s coming up now,” Martin answers, pulling out the chair next to him for you. He leans in to whisper, “Everything ready?”

You nod and smile. “Yes. Everything’s taken care of, don’t worry.”

He breathes a sigh of relief. “We need to make sure he’s happy with this. He’s bringing in a lot of money.”

You bend down to retrieve the folio that you’ll be using when the door opens and everybody stands up. You’re still trying to pull out the thick papers from your bag as you hear a new voice greet the room. You freeze, confident you’ve heard it before. You pull out your materials and look up, seeing the new partner for the first time. 

He’s handsome, dark hair with a middle parting to his fringe giving him a boyish look. His hands are shoved into the pockets of his grey slacks as he makes his way around the table towards your boss. He extends one hand and then turns to you, the smile never leaving his lips. You take his hand and jump a little at how cold his skin is. “Jimin Park,” he says, his voice velvety pleasant, “Pleasure to meet you, y/n.”

The way he says your name makes a shiver run down your spine for what reason you’re not sure. Have you met him somewhere before? Everybody takes a seat and the meeting begins. You speak for most of the time and Martin beams at you proudly at how well your presentation is. All the while, Jimin only watches intently, listening and nodding but not saying anything more than a few clarification questions here and there. He never stops smiling. 

When you reach the end of the presentation, the room gives a round of applause, and so does he, eyes never leaving you, that same smile constantly on his lips. You should be happy, you should feel accomplished that he seems happy, too, but a nagging feeling tells you that something isn’t right. As everyone gets ready to go for a team lunch, Jimin included, you finally realise what it was that bothers you so much. 

He’s smiling but it never reaches his eyes; there’s no warmth in them. 

***

“So, how long have you been working here?”

Jimin sits across from you, casually leaning back against his chair like he’s very comfortable, monolid eyes sharp on you. 

You clear your throat, shifting in your seat like you’re uncomfortable under his gaze. “A little over five years now,” you say with a polite smile. “Got in right after graduation and never left. They’ve taken great care of me.” You turn to Martin who  puffs out his chest proudly. 

“One of my best, that one,” your boss chimes in, pointing at you while your coworkers chuckle lightly. 

“I bet,” Jimin mutters, eyes still on you, but you think you’re the only one who caught it. “Well,” he says, louder now, turning to your boss, “you have me on board. Just let me know what support you need and,” he turns back to you, “I’ll do my best to give it my all.”

The table cheered and everyone fell into light conversation all around. All except you and Jimin, staring at each other, him looking like he knows things you don’t, a smug little smile on his lips, you, a little put off by how much attention he’s giving you. You think about telling your boss of how uncomfortable Jimin makes you feel but you’re a little hesitant that it might backfire since Martin is awfully fond of him. You wrench your gaze away from Jimin, finally, focusing on your food, doing your best to ignore the fact that you can feel he’s still watching. 

Weeks go by and you’re thrown into one of the most hectic phases of the project, launching in a couple of months. This is when your phones won’t stop ringing, business people coming and going from your office in constant streams and a lot of fuck ups with orders. You’re running around everyday, barely even sitting down, never mind to eat and it’s starting to show by the slight gaunt look on your face and how your skirt is barely hanging on your hips. But you love what you do so you power through. 

You’re on your hands and knees in your office, going through the white blueprint of the event hall spread over the floor in front of your desk, checking every minute details to correct before you send off copies to the vendors when a voice from behind you makes you visibly jump. “Nice view.”

You turn around to see Jimin leaning against the doorframe of your office,a coffee cup in each of his hands and a white paper bag tucked under his arm. You scowl at him, wondering what he meant because your ass would have been pointing in his direction when he said those words. You sit up on your knees. “That’s sexual harassment,” you say, your voice curt.

Jimin’s lips twitch but his eyes widen in surprise, whether genuine or not, you can’t tell. “I was talking about the venue. I’ve been there and those wide windows at the back will give a really great view of the city. The clients will love it.”

The scowl remains on your face but you move sideways so you can bend over the blueprint again, but this time, not ass presenting him. You hope he goes away, taking the hint that you’re busy. 

“Here. I brought you coffee and some sandwiches,” Jimin says, entering your office without asking for permission and placing the paper bag on your desk. The coffee cup, he holds it out for you. 

You glance at the cup briefly before nodding to your desk. “Thanks. Just leave it there. I need to finish this.”

“No.”

You pause, looking up at him in surprise and confusion. “Excuse me?”

“I said, no,” Jimin repeats; the same easygoing smile on his face, the same cold look in his eyes. “You need to take a break or you’re going to collapse before this project even finishes.”

You stare at him, contemplating on not satisfying him because who the hell is he to tell you what to do? But a steaming cup of coffee sounds so good while it’s still hot, rather than later when it’s lukewarm. You sigh and take the cup from him, standing up as you do. “Thanks,” you say again, much softer this time and almost shyly, mostly for being told off. You take a sip and immediately feel the tension melt away. You sigh heavily, tilting your neck this and that way, cracking them to relieve the stiffness.

“Do you always throw yourself into work like this?” Jimin leans against your desk, the rim of the cup at his lips but eyes looking down at the spread out blueprints and other papers all over the floor. And yet, it feels like he’s watching you anyway, from the corner of his eyes.

You shrug your shoulders. “It’s a busy time.”

“Really?” he asks, looking sideways at you. “You sure you’re not running away from something? Distracting yourself with work?”

You turn to look at him. “What are you talking about?”

He meets your gaze. “Oh, just wondering.”

You stare at him, incredulous, but decide not to answer him. “You should go.”

“Don’t you paint anymore?”

You freeze, looking at him like he’d just grown another head. Your heart rate spikes a little as you comb back through your memories, trying to think if you told him anything about your past hobbies. No, you don’t think so. No one in this office knows that you come from an art background, only assuming that you had graduated from the business school of RCA. You swallow thickly, subconsciously backing away from him. “How do you know I even paint?”

Jimin looks at you calmly, letting five seconds pass by before moving away from the desk to point at a picture frame set on it. It’s a picture of you and Taehyung on your graduation day, the Royal College of Arts main building in the back. “Oh, I just assumed that from that picture.”

“Most people assumed I came from the business school,” you say, your voice a tad bit shaky.

Again, Jimin looks slightly alarmed. “Oh, I didn’t even know they had a business school.”

Bullshit, you wanted to say but your mind is reeling.

“Well, from your reaction, I’m guessing I was right,” Jimin continues, languidly relaxing back against your desk. “So, my question still stands. You don’t paint anymore?”

You don’t like his tone of voice; condescending and smug, like he knows more than he lets on. You find yourself answering, “No, I don’t.”

“Why not?”

“I just don’t.” Then, on second thought, you add, “I can’t.”

Jimin tilts his head. “Why?”

Your forehead creases over as your eyebrows stitch together, struggling to keep your emotions in check because you hate it when someone questions your past. It’s always been one of the problems with prospective partners; they always want to know everything. And then get hurt when they do. But to Jimin, you square your shoulders and the look on your face hardens. “None of your business,” you snap, a little too harshly before regretting it. He is your boss after all. Sort of. 

“Is that how you talk to me?” His voice is low and cold, devoid of any of the friendliness he had earlier. 

You gulp. “Sorry, sir. I’m just- I’m a little stressed out right now,” you confess, not even sure why you are. 

“Go home,” he says, his voice back to normal. “Take a rest.”

“But I have to get this-”

“I’ll handle it,” he promises, pushing off the desk and coming over to you. In a few steps, he’s standing in front of you, toe to toe, too close for personal space, looking down his nose at you. He’s even more handsome up close, breathing down on you like you’re nothing but a child that needs to be put in place. “Go.”

You give him one last look before gathering your things, including the sandwiches he brought, and leaving out the door. You glance back only once at the elevator, looking at him looking at you, sipping on his coffee casually, one hand in his pocket. 

- - - 

You remember going to bed. You remember falling asleep. But you don’t remember waking up and being…here.

Where am I? What is this place? Everything feels so real, so vivid that you’re very sure you’re awake instead of dreaming. But there’s nothing here, just pitch black. You can’t see anything except for yourself, like a game character in a glitch where the world didn’t render correctly. You walk around but no matter how long and how far, there’s still nothing, making you feel like you probably didn’t move at all. 

If this is a dream, how do you wake up? Because this darkness and nothingness is unsettling, even more so when you can feel the cool linoleum feel under your bare feet but can’t see it. You stop moving, feeling defeated, hoping you’d wake up soon. 

“Hello, my sweetness.”

You jolt, turning around towards the cool voice and seeing the silhouette of a man a little further away. You squint, trying to see better who it is, stepping closer. “Who are you?”

“You know exactly who I am,” comes the voice and then, like a lighting on stage, his whole feature grows more visible. Jimin Park, your second boss. 

“What the hell?” you exclaim. “What are you doing in my dreams?”

Jimin’s mouth perks up. “You think this is a dream?”

You look around. “It’s the only explanation.”

You blink and suddenly Jimin is right in front of you, looming so close you have to look up to look at his face. You teeter and step back a pace. Like usual, he has that same smile on his face but his eyes, his eyes are different. They are jet black. “Still think this is a dream?”

You nod but hesitantly. You notice then that he’s bare from the waist up, toned muscles on full display and you think, So this is what he looks like under the suit. You can’t help but stare, unable to deny to yourself the arousing interest in your chest. A wet dream, you think, that’s why he’s here. 

Jimin laughs lightly, like he can read your mind. He leans closer and you half close your eyes, expecting his lips on yours. When it doesn’t happen, you blink your eyes open again to see a smirking Jimin. “Were you expecting something?”

You pull away, huffing. “No.”

A finger catches your chin, holding it in place as he makes you look at him. “You’re lying to me,” he says, his voice threatening and your heart races. There’s something familiar about his words, something familiar in the way you feel in his presence. The more you think about it, the more you realise that there’s a subtle fear of him. You wonder why because these past months, Jimin had been nothing but nice and a fair new boss to everyone.

Nice. But not warm. There’s always a cold edge to his demeanour, like everything is an act. Like he’s only pretending. 

The look in those jet black eyes is heavy and almost searing at the same time. You want to say no again, but something in the back of your mind warns you that he won’t take another lie and you wouldn’t like the consequences. “Yes,” you breathe out in a whisper.

“Yes what, my sweetness?”

Your mouth is dry but you force yourself to speak. “Yes, I was expecting something.”

“Good girl,” he coos and you feel his cold hand settle on your side, pulling you closer. “See, wasn’t so hard to admit it, was it?”

You don’t answer, feeling his fingers trace up and down your side, sneaking under your pyjama shirt and grazing your skin, making you shiver from the coldness and the anticipation. It’s a dream anyway, right? You can do anything in a dream. You tilt your chin up, looking at him through puppy-eyes and pouty lips. “Well?”

Jimin smirks again, only one side of his lips turning up. “As you wish.” He leans down and connects your lips to his and the searing pain shoots through your lips and down to your toes, making you moan into his mouth. Your eyes shoot open and you’re suddenly back in your bed, staring at your ceiling, breathing like you’ve run a marathon. 

You sit up, looking around the room but everything looks in place. The clock on your bedside table shows it’s three in the morning and you have to be awake in another three hours. You lay back onto your pillow but you’re too worked up to go back to sleep. Your lips are still tingling and you touch it gingerly with the tips of your fingers. You recall the dream, seeing your half-naked boss standing in front of you and you shake your head.

Ugh, you think, I have to get that image out of my head. 

The next day at work, you’re barely able to look Jimin in the eyes. You can’t help the image that keeps popping at the front of your mind every time you see him so you avoid him at all cost, leaving a room when he comes in, looking away when he’s talking to you. This continues on until the next week to the point that everyone else is starting to notice. Martin finally pulls you aside into his office one day.

“Want to tell me what’s going on?” he asks, steepling his fingers together on his desk. 

“I don’t know what you mean,” you reply, feigning ignorance. “Is something wrong?”

He sighs. “You’ve been avoiding Jimin and even I can see it. Did something happen between the two of you?”

“No,” you say, shaking your head. In truth, you’re replaying all of the dreams you’ve been having the past week. Every night, without fail, your second boss, Jimin, has been visiting you in your dreams, doing things you only wish he would do in real life, things you don’t even dare to admit to wanting. Every spot he lays his lips on burns like he’s made of fire and yet you crave it every time you wake up. “No, nothing happened,” you reiterate. 

“Are you sure?” he prods. “I thought you two were getting on well. He speaks highly of you, too.”

“He does?” you ask, raising your eyebrows. 

“Yeah. It’s starting to make me a little jealous,” Martin says with a chuckle. “I brought him in but it feels like he’s stealing away my best worker.”

You shift in your seat, ignoring the unsettling feeling in your chest. You laugh lightly along with him. “Don’t worry about it. He’s not stealing me away from you. I’m all yours, boss.” 

“Really?” 

His tone of voice shifts and dread fills your lungs. No, please no. He’s been so good to you and you have loved this job. Please don’t. Martin stands up and walks over the desk to stand in front of you, his crotch rightly aligned in front of your face as you sit there. You push back the chair a little bit. 

“You’re an amazing employee, y/n,” he says, his voice low and soft. “And I would like to make sure that you’re loyal to me.”

“Of course I am,” you say with a smile. “I’ve been here for a long time, haven’t I? I love my job and I would like to stay here as long as I can. You don’t have to worry about it.”

“Oh, but I do.” He leans his hands on both the arms of your chair. “And with a new, young partner in the picture, I’m worried that he’s going to get all of your attention.”

Your throat is tight and swallowing is painful. “He’s-he won’t. I mean, you’re both my bosses so I don’t really have the power to say no if he has other projects for me when this one finishes.”

“Well then, prove it,” he purrs, his face up close to yours. “Show me how loyal you’ll be to me.”

You lick your lips. “But- but I have. All these years I’ve-”

“You know that’s not what I mean,” he says, his eyes darkening. 

“Then what do you mean?” 

Martin smiles and steps back. His hands go to the fly of his pants and you think you’re going to throw up. Your skin feels clammy and cold and there’s a ringing in your ears. The office door bangs open, slamming against the wall and both of you look around to see in shock. 

“Sorry to interrupt,” says Jimin in a serious tone. If he knew what was happening, he didn’t show it. “But we have a problem with one of the vendors. I need y/n to help me smoothen things out.”

You spring up to your feet and excuse yourself, hurrying out of the door with Jimin behind you. You make a beeline for the ladies’ and shut yourself in a cubicle, breathing heavily, leaning against the door as if Martin might just burst right in. You lean your head against your arm, pressing against your eyes to kind of shake yourself out of the panic that’s building. 

“My sweetness.”

You look up, blinking at the sudden change of environment. The cubicle you locked yourself in has disappeared, replaced with nothing. Nothing but darkness. The voice that calls for you isn’t the usual flirt; it’s serious, solemn, commanding. You turn around to find Jimin standing there, this time, for the first time, fully clothed in all black. His eyes, though, are fiery red. 

You don’t know why you did what you did next but it felt like the right thing at that moment. You sob, running into his arms as he catches you, enveloping you in a tight embrace. He lets you cry into his shirt, caressing your hair and holding you quietly as your body shakes with every weep. It takes a while until you’re finally calm enough to step back, wiping at your face with the back of your hands. 

“I’m sorry,” you hiccup. “I just- I didn’t know what came over me.”

Jimin watches you, quiet, not saying a word until you finally look at him. “It’s not the first time you’ve run to me when someone’s hurt you, my love.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “Huh?”

The fire in his eyes dim a little as he tucks your hair behind your ear. “You’re always so stubborn. You never listen. So even if I tell you, you won’t believe me.”

“What are you talking about?”

Jimin sighs but the kind of sighs that tired people let out when dealing with annoying situations. “Still so stubborn. Never mind. What shall we do about him?”

Your eyes widen. Does he know after all? Or is this just your subconscious making him know what had transpired in Martin’s office? The latter, of course. It’s the only explanation. You’re dreaming again. Or hallucinating. The thought of what Martin had done resurfaces and suddenly you’re angry; angry at him but also at yourself for being such a fool for not seeing it for what it is even when he has been hinting at it for all these years. But why now? Why only now showing his true colours? 

You bark out a bitter laugh. “There’s nothing I can do. He’s the boss. He’ll get away with it or I’ll be asked to move away.” Then you start to nod your head. “Yeah, maybe it’s time for something new.”

“Go back to painting?”

You glare at him. “Why are you so obsessed with that?”

Jimin chuckles and changes the subject. “Well, if you want I can make him go away.”

You wipe the remaining tears from your cheeks but the anger is still there. “Yeah, sure. Do that.” You press your palms to your eyes, an act to rub out all the crying you did earlier but when you open your eyes again, you’re back in the cubicle. 

You step outside and wash your face, steeling yourself to leave the ladies’ room to face whatever or whoever is outside. You take a deep breath and open the door and Jimin is waiting on the other side, leaning sideways against a wall. 

“You okay?” he asks, approaching you. “Did something happen with Martin?”

You stare at him blankly, thinking back to that conversation, although imaginary, you just had with him in that other place. Thinking of what Martin did to you, or almost did to you, and the fact that you had been dreaming of your other boss nearly every day this week feels hypocritical. “Yeah,” you say, nodding. “Nothing happened. You said something happened with a client?”

“Vendors,” he corrected, eyes as cool and calculating as they always are, looking at you as if he’s trying to figure out why you’re lying, not that he knows that. Does he? “It’s fine. I took care of it while you were in there.”

You raise your watch to your face. “That soon? Are you sure? I can call them up again just to ensure everything is good.”

Jimin gives you a small shake of his head, a small hint of a smile on his lips. “Nope. It’s fine. All taken care of.” Something in the way he says the last part gives you a strange vibe, like he wasn’t talking about the vendor problem entirely. 

It doesn’t take long until news reaches you, literally on the 8PM broadcast on TV while you are eating dinner of microwaved pasta. The picture splashed on the screen is one you recognise well, having seen the man for the past five years or so everyday at work. The news talks about how, with the help of an anonymous tip, Martin J. Russell of Rocket Media Ltd has been arrested for multiple sexual offences, spanning years of sexual assaults of past coworkers with pictures and videos found on both his work and personal devices. 

Your fork drops into the container as you stare, mouth agape, at the TV. What in the-

As much as a part of you is singing with relief, another part of you can’t completely dismiss the persistent notion that whatever happened to Martin wasn’t coincidence, that it didn’t just happened right after he tried it with you and you had-

You stop thinking, standing up abruptly that your chair scuttles backward noisily. Jimin. Something about Jimin is squirming at the back of your mind but you can’t quite put a finger on it. Not a minute later, you receive an email from HR, blasted to all employees, requesting that if you need to speak to someone, you may contact HR representatives or a mental health hotline, as well as the office will be closed for a week due to the current investigation ongoing. All employees will have the option whether to take days off during the week or work remotely and either choice will have you be paid like normal. 

There is more to the email, including a subtle request for employees to keep their mouths shut except to authorities or HR and it makes you think about earlier today. Bile rises to your throat at the idea of having to admit what had happened today when you just want to forget about it all. Your phone rings.

It’s Jimin, now the one and only boss.

You take a deep breath and answer it. 

“If you’ve heard the news then you know why I’m calling,” says Jimin over the phone, his voice sullen. “I’m asking you again, did something happen between you and him today in his office?” 

You’re quiet, your voice stuck in your throat. 

“Y/n,” he calls, a warning tone. “I don’t want to have to ask twice.”

“It doesn’t matter,” you finally answer, your voice sounding breathy. “He’s caught. It’s done.”

There’s a brief pause before he finally speaks. “So something did happen.” When you don’t respond, he takes that as an affirmative. He lets go of a deep breath. “Take the week off.”

“But the project, we’re already behind on-”

“Fuck, y/n,” he snaps. “We have worse issues on our hands right now. Take the week off. I’ll deal with things here and the clients.” Then he sighs. “Have you spoken to the authorities yet? About what happened today? They would want to hear about it.”

“No. I don’t intend to,” you reply shortly. 

“Why? You’re protecting him?”

“I’m not!” Your blood boils at the accusation, your free hand in a tight fist on your side. “I just want to forget all about it. Nothing actually happened. He…he didn’t manage to do anything before you came in.”

“I see,” he replies softly. “Are you okay?”

You want to tell him yes, of course you are, nothing happened, right? You should be okay, you should be fine because you were luckier than his other victims, people you worked with and who you were completely oblivious to the suffering they were going through right under your nose. You were so ignorant of what was happening around you that you had respected the man, and had even admired him as an amazing boss. How many times have you gushed about the man? How many of those times had it been to a victim?

Fuck. 

Before you even realise it, the tears are already spilling, big, fat pearls crawling down your cheeks. You don’t manage to say anything when Jimin says, “I’m coming over,” and the line cuts. You’re not sure how long you remain on the floor crying, hugging your legs close to you when there’s a loud knock on your door. You can’t seem to get up, the few steps to the entrance area seem too much for you. 

You hear some shuffling around outside, hear the person lift up a flower pot and retrieve the spare key you hid there. You hear the sound of the key in the lock and doorknob turning. You see Jimin standing in the doorway, his eyes easily zoning in on you huddled on the kitchen floor. You watch as he strides over and picks you up so effortlessly and carries you to the sofa. He places you down gently and goes back to the kitchen. Ten minutes later, he’s back with a cup of tea for you.

He makes you drink it, sitting next to you without saying anything much, letting you cry it out. He remains quiet even when you’re hiccuping through leftover sobs, sitting there leaning on his knees, his fingers locked together, staring down at the floor. He only finally looks up when you make no more sound except for the occasional sniffles. “Better?”

You nod, taking a tissue to blow your nose. 

“Hungry?”

You shake your head but your stomach betrays you, sounding out like a dying whale at sea. He smiles softly, pulling out his phone. “Does Thai sound good to you?”

This time, you nod happily, eyelashes still glistening with tears.

You both only start to talk after dinner is finished and pushed aside, when Jimin, his coat jacket off and his shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbow, had offered to do the dishes. You stand next to him to do the drying, making small talk, exchanging little information about each other’s lives. 

“You’re from Busan?” your eyebrows go up in surprise. “I’m from there, too.”

“I know,” he replies. “I read all the staff’s profiles.”

“I see.”

“Have you been back?”

You shake your head. “Not really. There’s nothing left for me there. My mum has remarried and the only family I have left are actually here.”

“Oh?”

You smile. “Yeah. Well, we’re not related by blood but I practically grew up with them.”

You don’t see it but Jimin’s eyes flash dangerously. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you say, “the guy you saw in the picture? That’s Taehyung. Him and his brothers are like brothers to me. Growing up with a single parent is hard and I was always stuck with them when she had to go to work. And she worked a lot.”

“So just them then? No one else?”

You tilt your head, thinking. “No, I don’t think so. Just them.” When Jimin doesn’t respond, you ask, “What about you? Any families around here?”

“Just one,” he says, eyes on his hands washing the forks and spoons. “We grew up together. I was always the one she runs to when she has problems and I make them go away.”

“Oh. That’s interesting.” You take the fork from him, drying it in between your fingers. “What’s she like?”

“Clingy and a crybaby.” He chuckles softly. “But I love that about her. I love being needed and I know she needs me.”

“She lives with you?”

“Not yet.” Jimin finishes the washing and dries his hands. “If you’re feeling better, I should get going. But…”

“But?” you look up at him.

“I know it’s weird timing but,” he pauses, scratching the back of his neck. “Would you, um, want to grab lunch tomorrow? Or not, if you don’t want to.”

You’re not sure about going on a date with him for two reasons: one, he’s your boss and two, well, with the whole shitshow happening at the office, it’s hardly a good time for a date. 

“Um, sure. I guess,” you answer, feeling a little shy. “If it’s just lunch.”

Jimin’s lips twitch upward. “Sure. I’ll pick you up around noon?”

- - -

That lunch turned out to be more than just lunch.

Jimin is funny and makes you laugh with his deadpan jokes and ridiculous punchlines. Underneath that cold and aloof demeanour, he’s actually sweet and caring. He plans things, takes you out on surprise dates, cooks meals for you and even gives you little gifts on random days, things that made him think of you. He makes playlists for you and even one of those classic mixtapes on CDs when he finds out your car has a CD player. He gathers small bunches of daisies when he finds out you love them more than roses. He surprises you with little things like your favourite tea or your favourite snack and takes candid photos of you to share with you later at the end of the day.

On days when you are watching movies together at your place, he would rub your feet and make cups of tea for you. He would listen to you vent or tell stories about your day. He’s your biggest cheerleader with work, walking that thin line between being a fair boss and a good friend and flourishing at it. When the relationship passed three months, you both decided to report it to HR. You were moved to a different department but you both go out for lunch together almost everyday.

You are completely and madly in love, for the first time ever at twenty-seven. He’s everything you ever wanted, everything you ever dreamed of even as a young girl. He sweeps you off your feet and makes you feel the most comfortable. He respects your wish of waiting a little bit more the night he sleeps over that first time, ending up just cuddling the whole night. He doesn’t complain, doesn’t make you feel guilty about it. You do a lot of the other things, kissing and going even as far as third base and not once did he ever try to push your limit.

 By the time you hit six months, he surprises you with a promise ring and you think it’s time to introduce him to Taehyung and the others. 

“What’s his name again?” Taehyung asks over the phone as you get ready for the meeting tonight. Both Namjoon and Jin will also be there, excited to meet your first serious boyfriend.

“Jimin,” you quip, the phone pinned in between your shoulder and ear, hopping on one foot to pull up the stocking over your knees. 

“What?” Taehyung’s voice comes out a little too loud, a little too panicky. 

“I said, his name is Jimin,” you repeat. “Look, I got to finish getting ready. You can ask all the questions later at the restaurant, Tae. I’ll see you guys there.”

“You ready, babe?” Jimin’s head pops in.

“Yes,” you answer, getting your handbag and slinging it over your shoulder. “I’m a little nervous. It’s the first time I’m bringing a boyfriend to meet them.”

Jimin laughs, pulling you by the waist. “Wait, you’ve never introduced anyone before me?”

You shake your head, pouting. “No. Nothing ever lasted long enough for me to do that.”

“I see.” Jimin twirls you around. “I’m honoured.” He gives you a little bow and you giggle. “Don’t worry, love. I’ll be on my best behaviour tonight. I promise.”

***

“This is Taehyung, Namjoon, and Jin.”

“Jimin, my brothers.”

The four of them exchange handshakes all around before finally sitting down, Jimin pulling out your chair, of course. The dinner starts with small talk, mainly the brothers asking you and Jimin the typical questions: how did you two meet? How did you guys get together? How did the company react to the news of the relationship? 

When the main course arrives, Namjoon switches gears by focusing the questions on only Jimin, asking his background, interests and his work. Jin adds in here and there but Taehyung remains quiet the whole time. He would stare intently at Jimin, frown and then look away. He would give you the same look, too, but he’s sitting too far away to actually ask you anything quietly. 

During dessert, Jin stares at Jimin for long enough that the other man notices. “Do I have something on my face?”

Jin shakes his head. “No. You just look familiar.”

“I don’t think we’ve met before,” Jimin chuckles. 

“Yeah, but I can’t shake this feeling off like I’ve seen you somewhere.” Jin tilts his head, narrowing his eyes. “Hmm. I wonder where.”

“Me, too, hyung,” pipes in Taehyung, surprising you slightly since he’s been quiet this whole time. “The name, too. I’ve heard it somewhere.”

Jimin smiles politely. “My name is very common, especially for girls, actually.” He gives a lighthearted laugh, squeezing your hand under the table, a signal for you to say something. 

“So, how long will you be in town, Jin?” you ask, diverting the group’s attention and it was enough to move away from the topic of Jimin. The rest of the night goes well and the both of you arrive at your place giddy with happiness.

Jimin heaves a relief sigh. “Well, I guess that went well.”

You beam up at him, both hands in his as you stop in front of the front door. “I think it did.”

He nods, gazing lovingly into your eyes. He pecks a kiss on the tip of your nose and you scrunch it up, giggling at him. He pecks another kiss to your forehead and you lean into him. Your heart is beating a little bit faster than usual, both nervous and excited for what’s to come next, what you will ask him for. You know he won’t, but you will. You think it’s time.

“Jimin,” you call him softly and he catches your lips in between his. You moan into him, feeling yourself melting into his front, his arms strong around your waist. He feels safe, like home. 

“Sorry, I couldn’t help it,” he murmurs against your lips. “What was it you wanted to say, hm?”

“Well,” you say, suddenly shy, suddenly looking down at both of yours and his feet but you steel yourself and put on a brave front. He’s been so patient for you, you can do this for him. “Do you want to go inside for a cup of tea?”

Jimin smiles, his eyes giving you a knowing look. “I would love that.”

Inside, he insists on making the tea, telling you that he knows how to make it just the way you like it. You both sip the tea in silence at the kitchen island, exchanging glances over the rim of your cups like some kind of young teenagers flirting across the hall when you’re only sitting opposite each other. His eyes turn into little half-moons and you know he’s smiling behind the cup, the butterflies in your stomach kicking up a storm. Oh, you are very much in love and for a person at your age to feel like this for the first time, you think it was worth the wait. 

You both finish the tea and you take the cups and saucers to the sink. You can feel yourself vibrating with nerves, your hands shaking a little making the cups rattle against the saucers. You place them in the sink and wonder about how to go about it. Do you outrightly ask him? Do you bring him up to the bedroom without saying anything? Do you invite him as a heads up? Ugh, how come there’s no manual for these things.

Your hand reaches for the faucet but Jimin’s hand catches your arm and you feel him press up behind you, warm and strong. With his other hand, he gently pulls back your hair from your shoulder and pins a kiss at the spot where your neck meets your shoulder. “Leave it, my sweetness,” he says into your ear. “We’ll think about the dishes later, why don’t we?”

You hum in response, closing your eyes and leaning your head back onto him, letting him kiss up your neck. You turn yourself around, placing your hands on his chest, feeling the gentle rhythm of his heartbeat against your fingers. You look up at him through your lashes, heart in your throat, shaking so bad from…you’re not sure which, excitement or anxiety. He seems to know what you wanted to say by the small smile on his lips but he’s letting you take the lead.

“Do you…” you trail off, not even sure what to ask. You try again, your voice barely above a whisper. “Do you want to head upstairs?”

Jimin’s smiles widen. “Only if you take me there.”

A strong sudden urge to kiss him overwhelms you and you crash your lips onto his, roughly, desperately, wanting nothing more than to taste him more than you ever had. Your hands go everywhere; around his waist, around his neck, his chest, his arms while he holds you steady, moving backwards and somewhat blindly out of the kitchen with the two of you connected at the lips. When you pull apart to breathe, you’re already in the middle of your bedroom. Wow, that was fast. When did we climb up the stairs?

The bed is right behind you. Jimin leans his forehead against yours. “Are you sure about this?”

Your heart flutters, the anxiety now pushed aside by the anticipation building up from a place you’ve never truly explored. You nod your head once, breathing hard, your fingers fidgeting with a button on his shirt. Gently, ever so gently, Jimin lowers you to the bed, you in between his legs. You continue to make out, suddenly so very hungry for him, catching his tongue with yours everytime it slips in. 

You undress him, plucking at one button at a time, your fingers clumsy. He does the same for your dress, pulling it off little by little until you’re in nothing but your underwear and him with his chest bare. 

Jimin takes you in, nose flaring at the sight of you. You feel yourself shrink, making yourself smaller because no other man has ever seen you like this before. It’s daunting. Exciting, but scary. 

Jimin buries his face in your neck, his hands gently caressing your bra strap and then your side. “White lace,” he breathes. “Did you put these on especially for me?”

You don’t answer, feeling the blood rushing to your cheeks. And other places. Jimin pulls back, sitting on his knees, looking down at you, raking his eyes from your head down to your toes. There’s a glint in his eyes that you can’t quite read but it makes you shiver. “You know,” Jimin says, eyes locked on yours, “some people say you wear white for your first time.” He chuckles, coming back down for your lips.

“I know,” you mumble. Jimin pauses to look at you, one eyebrow raised. “Because it is. My first time,” you say bashfully. “I…I hope that’s okay. For you.”

Jimin’s lips twitch upwards and you see a sort of change in his eyes. But it’s dark so you’re not sure. “Of course, my sweetness. Don’t you worry. I’ll take good care of you.”

The words sounded odd to your ears, a little too commanding, a little too smug. But the moment Jimin’s lips are back on yours, his hands roaming your body, touching in places no one has ever touched before, your head goes completely blank except for thoughts of him, of Jimin, your lover, the one you’re finally sure of surrendering yourself fully; mind, body and soul. 

You’re lost in the throes of heated passion, unaware that downstairs, inside your handbag where you left on the kitchen island, your phone is ringing for the third time in a row. Taehyung’s face is flashing across the screen because back at his place not thirty minutes away, while he lays across the sofa, wracking his brains about where Jimin seems awfully familiar, he had to scroll through his phone gallery. It had taken some time, going back years of pictures until he finally found it: the last photo of you standing in your childhood bedroom, leaving for the last time.

There in the background, placed on its side, is the forty by thirty painting of your imaginary friend, a blue ribbon tacked on one corner.

- - -

The room is filled with your loud moans, unable and probably don’t even care to keep your voice down because, fuck, his tongue feels so goddamn good. 

You fist the sheets on either side of you, legs spread open by Jimin’s hands on your thighs, keeping them from closing around his head. He has two fingers in your cunt, pumping hard, in time with the flick of his tongue against your very swollen clit. You can hear how wet you are by the sloshing sound his fingers make and that alone is arousing to you. You alternate between moaning with your mouth clamped shut but when it gets too much, your mouth will fall open and the room echoes your voice back at you. 

Jimin’s fingers feel so good, enough to make you feel full. In the back of your mind, you’re a little worried about when he finally enters you. How much would that hurt? He clamps down your clit and all thoughts escape through your ears, desperate to clamp your thighs shut but unable to. 

With his fingers still jammed inside you, Jimin crawls up, trailing wet kisses up your torso and then letting you taste yourself on his tongue. “So sweet for me,” he coos, licking his lips. He curls his fingers upward, feeling your walls squeezing his digits. “And so tight.”

You mewl, squirming under him. You fumble for his fly, pulling the zipper down and hooking your fingers around the waistband of his pants, along with his boxers. He helps you pull them off of him, wiggling himself to let the materials fall loosely to his ankles. You sit up on your elbows and Jimin brings his hip to your face. Your eyes bulge at the sight of him; thick and long, precum leaking from the tip, sticking straight against his stomach. 

“Open your mouth, sweetness,” he says, guiding your head with the back of his hand, sliding himself onto your tongue, hissing at the contact. “There you go, just like that. That’s a good girl.”

You place your hands on his thighs for support, eager to please. You may be a virgin but oral sex is something you enjoy giving. You start slow, teasing him with your tongue against his tip and only focusing on the head, sucking on it like your favourite lollipop. Jimin watches you through hooded eyes, hands on your shoulders. He lets out a muffled grunt as you flick your tongue against his frenulum, feeling the way his cock jumps from the pleasure. 

You push yourself down his length, slowly, gauging how much you can take him without gagging. Adjusted, you start to bob your head. Jimin holds your head, both guiding and sometimes pushing your face as low as possible before you start to protest, gagging and slobbering all over his length. You can’t see it but he’s grinning ear to ear. 

When he’s had enough, he pulls you up to kiss you, noticing how red your cheeks are, how your eyes see only him, and how your body is reacting to him. He gently pushes you down to the mattress, one hand behind your head. He leans backward to look at you. “How are you feeling?” he whispers against your lips. 

“Good,” you whisper back, squirming under him, arms around his waist. “I want you, Jimin.”

He smirks but in your haze, you barely recognise it for what it is. “I know. I’ve been wanting you, too. For a long time.”

You nod, thinking that he had meant these past six months. You’re clawing at him, lightly scratching at his skin as he kisses your face, lowering himself down onto you. You’re so sensitive that at the touch of his pubic bone against yours, you gasp. 

“Shh,” he says gently, thumb rubbing your temple. “Look at you. You’re shivering, baby. It’s okay. Relax. I’ll take good care of you.”

Something about his smile sends a shiver down your spine and instead of feeling comforted, panic bells have started ringing in the distance. Your heart rate spikes and suddenly you’re having second thoughts. You quell them down, fighting against yourself to backtrack now. No, he’s been patient enough. He deserves it. He’s the love of my life, there’s nothing to be afraid of. It’s just nerves. Relax. Calm down. I want this. I want this. Right? You breathe slowly, nodding into his hand, desperate to find the solace you always feel when in Jimin’s presence. Where is it now?

“Jimin,” you squeak as he positions himself in between your legs, his fingers digging into the meat of your thighs, massaging lightly as he presses your legs apart. You raise your head to look at him and in the dim light, Jimin’s eyes are so dark they’re like abysses as he looks back at you, a soft smile on his lips. 

You feel him pressing against your hole and slowly pushes in. It stings and you throw your head back, eyes squeezed shut. Jimin stretches you out and it burns so much it feels like you are being torn open from the inside out and yet…yet it feels so excruciatingly delicious. All these years of holding back, of never finding the right person to give yourself fully to, and Jimin feels both like a reward and a punishment, like it’s both wrong and coming home at the same time your brain is going fuzzy. You feel him bottom out but the pain isn’t going away and at the same time a tingle is starting from somewhere deep within you. 

Jimin remains unmoving, letting you adjust. The burning dulls a little bit but a fire has been lit up in the pit of your stomach. You wrap your legs around Jimin’s waist, pulling him close. You blink your eyes open and gasp. You blink a few more times but the sight that greets you never changes. Everything is dark. There’s nothing. You see nothing.

You look down towards where Jimin is in a panic but finds him grinning at you in a way that doesn't feel friendly. He starts laughing. 

“Finally!” he exclaims, running a hand through his hair, pushing his hair back. “Years of waiting and it finally pays off. Patience is a virtue.” 

“Wh- what’s going on?” your voice is shaking. “I don’t understand. What are you saying? What’s happening?”

Jimin leans down, arms on both sides of your head. His eyes are like two coals staring straight into your wet ones. “Oh, my sweetness. I let you have a little bit of freedom and you forget about me. But don’t worry. We’ll have all night to catch up.” He kisses you and your lips burn, moaning into him but he doesn’t relent. You feel his tongue licking inside your mouth and your eyes shoot open in alarm at the realisation that it’s a forked tongue. Just like that, the box of suppressed memories springs open and it all comes flooding in.

Pulling back, the same smug grin still on his face, Jimin whispers close to your face, “Do you remember now?”

Your eyes are like two saucers, staring back at him in horror. “No,” you shake your head, the tears creeping slowly down into your hairline. “No.”

Jimin’s lips spread wider. “Oh, yes, my sweetness.” He pulls out of you and starts to gently rock back and forth, ignoring your silent cries. The faster he moves, the more your body reacts, so much so that you pause in between the tears, confused. Your heart rejects him yet your body yearns for him, needs him to keep moving or you might wither away and die if he doesn’t. Your fists tightens around his upper arms, both in anger at the long deception as well as the desperation to let him know that you want more; more of him and more of what he can give. 

It doesn’t take much for Jimin to get the message, the latter one, the grin only growing bigger, the satisfaction palpable even in his two obsidian eyes. He leans down to your face, fingers softly combing back your hair. “I know you’re angry at me, baby, but you can’t deny me either. You’ve promised me yourself.” He kisses your cheek and the spot feels like your skin might melt away. “I’ve only come to collect what’s mine. Heart, body and soul. Well, maybe not the heart. Not yet anyway. But all in due time, my sweetness. I’m a very patient man.”

“You’re not a man,” you gasp in between strokes, biting down on your lip to keep yourself from letting him know how good he’s making you feel. You can feel the girth of him, the length of him every time he buries deep, can feel the delicious stretch of your walls hugging him. Jimin only laughs, a deep rumbling that vibrates straight to your core and with that, you release your lip to let Jimin hear you. 

- - -

When Taehyung arrived at your place at three in the morning, out of breath from cycling like hell, he was already too late. 

The house was empty, void of anything that ever proved that you lived there; no clothes, no photos on the wall, no shoes and definitely no you. Only furniture left behind and food abandoned in the fridge. The police insisted that you must have run away with your lover and your workplace had no clue who Taehyung was talking about when he mentioned Park Jimin, looking at him like he had lost his mind.

“She quit,” the receptionist told him with an incredulous look, turning the PC monitor his way. “See? She sent this email talking about finding something new. It’s all a bit sudden and the boss is pissed. If you hear from her, tell her never to come around here unless she wants her head on a platter. Personally, for me though, I think she got balls of steel. You go, girl.” 

Namjoon told him to quit worrying, that you’re an adult that can make your own life choices and take care of yourself. Jin just laughed when Taehyung showed him the photo of the painting from long ago, shaking his head and telling him he needs to get his eyes checked. Neither of them had any recollection of that dinner with Jimin. Except for him. 

It took him six months to finally calm down enough for his brothers to stop worrying that he might need some serious intervention in the form of hospitalisation. He spent his days at work, pretending to be fine while at night he scoured the internet and the dark web for any signs of you, barely sleeping, one wall of the spare bedroom at his place covered with any clues and hints and circled maps of places he’s searched in. 

- - -

On the other side of the veil, you watch your childhood best friend struggle to find you to death, sitting next to Jimin on the throne, your hand in his as his underlings worship his feet. 

As the dark lord of the underworld, Jimin lavishes you with anything and everything your heart desires, loves you like no man ever could and satisfies you every night like gods themselves are pounding into you. You smile when he kisses you, look demurely as he holds you and pulls him closer each night under the cover. 

You see Jimin in all his underworld glory; a king with a black heart, tattered black wings that spans six feet on either side when he’s enraged, eyes like the abyss when he’s staring deep into your claimed soul. You’re his; mind, body and soul, as promised. 

And yet…

Each night, you realise you’re getting better and better at slipping away without him noticing, coming back into the human world, into Taehyung’s spare room with the maze of threads all over one wall. You’re getting good at moving small objects, like a pen or a pencil. And even that marker Taehyung uses to circle cut up articles and places on the map. 

One day, you’ll be able to send him an SOS, a message for him to help you cut yourself free. But in the meantime, you’ll sit quietly in Jimin’s arms, pretending like you hate where you are, pretending like you’re not in love. 

Check out my other works → :MASTERLIST:

#bts jimin #jimin x you #park jimin #park jimin x reader #bts one shot #jimin one shot #jimin smut #bts pjm #jimin fanfic #bts fic #yandere jimin

[ch3rriiii-bunn]

hiii, this is my first time requesting so sorry if its not clear. but could you do one where its if the uppermoons would let reader braid their hair and how it would go?? ex: kokushibo , douma , muzan fem form, the hantengu clones, etc

New style

Ahhh I hope you like it! Thanks for requesting!!♡ this is such a cute idea

Warnings: fluff, kissing, physically touch with Aizetsu, the braiding style is just braids like this lol

Kokushibo

Kokushibo doesn't let just anyone touch his hair. It has to be someone he's most comfortable with, someone who he can let his guard around fully without feeling any threat. In this case, the only one allowed to touch his hair other than himself is his own lover.

Kokushibo leaves it up to you when it's time for his hair to be done. He's never made any suggestions on what you should do and trusted your judgment on what's good for his appearance. "Can I braid your hair?" You asked. Kokushibo looked over his shoulder. "I've... never had braids done on me. I will allow it if that's what you wish to do."

Kokushibo rarely shows any excitement or gratitude when you do his hair. Just sits down and let's you do what you need to do for your own satisfaction, but this time he's interested in how he'll look. You watched him through the mirror sitting with his eyes closed and his hands on his lap. He isn't smiling, but you can tell he's enjoying this.

Kokushibo kept looking at himself in the mirror, feeling the long braids that went down to his chest. "I like this.... I like it a lot. Who thought you this?" He asked. "Well, I've been braiding my own hair for a while so-" "You will teach me so I can braid your hair as well"

Douma

Douma was so cheerfully of the idea. He almost dropped all responsibility just for your hands to play in his hair. "Hey y/n, do you think you can add one of your pretty hair clips in my hair after you're done?" He practically begs with a smile, but how could you refuse? Especially when he's asking so sweetly.

Douma kept having to be reminded to sit still while you braid his hair. He kept swaying side to side, humming happily "douma please. Sit still okay? I'm almost done, " you said with some frustration but giggled. "I'm sorry y/n I'm just so happy I can't help myself. I can't remember the last time someone's offered to do my hair"

Douma watches as you gently put the finished braid over his shoulder, onto his chest, and start to do the next side. He twirls the end of his hair with his finger and then wips his head back onto your lap to look up at you. "It looks so gorgeous! Please keep going, " he said."I can put you, have to lift your head back up silly"

Douma couldn't keep his hands off his braied hair. "Thank you so much y/n I look great!" He said and kisses your cheek. "I'm happy you like it, darling. Now, let's add the hair pins. " You added the pins in his hair and then kissed his forehead

Muzan

Muzan is the one who asked you to braid her hair for a very important meeting. She wanted to look her best in her female form and admired how you took care of yourself to look presentable and ordered you to do the same for her.

Muzan sits in the chair while applying her red lipstick on yet keeping her eye on you through the mirror. "You look frightened to touch my hair. Make sure my braids aren't so loose. It would he bothersome if they unraveled," she said with a small snral. "Yes. Lord muzan"

Muzan watches you finish the single braids, going down to her back, and you finish adding the hair pins in. You step back once you are done. She got up from the chair and took a good look at her appearance from head to toe, making sure everything was perfect before she left.

Muzan walks towards you. You bowed your head , but she felt her hand pet your head. "Good work. You've met my expectations on how I wanted my hair to look, " she said, grabbing your chin to make you look at her. "You deserve a reward." she smirks and kisses you

Nakime

Nakima allows you to do her hair however you want, but the one rule she gave you is to leave the hair in front of her face alone. She's not insecure about her eye, but she prefers to keep it hidden as a way to scare off other humans and make her powers a surprise for her enemies.

Nakime wasn't too sure about you braiding her hair, but with some reassurance, she allows you to continue. "So you're just braiding all my hair back into a single braid?" She asked. "Yup. Just the hair in the back, don't worry, I'm leaving the front of your hair alone" you giggled.

Nakime blushes when she sees the happiness on your face when you braid her hair "actually. I don't mind if you use pins to pin my bangs to the side, " she said. You gasped and couldn't help the big smile on your face when she gave you permission to touch her bangs.

Nakime looks at herself in the mirror. "You make me not want to cover my eye as often now. I think I look beautiful like this," she said and reached over her shoulder to grab her braid to play with it. You hug her from behind and rest your chin on her shoulder. "You're always beautiful nakime"

Aizetsu

Aizetsu's head is a little tender than the rest of the demons. He doesn't usually let anyone touch his hair, let alone himself, but he trusts you to touch his hair since he's told you that you have gentle hands and that you're patient with him.

Aizetsu had light in his eyes at your idea of braiding his hair. His hair was always out and flowing. He only lets you brush out his hair, so the thought of having a different hair style interested him.

Aizetsu sits down between your legs for you to begin. He only makes a few grunts at the tugs on his hair but remains. He started to grow a little bord just sitting there and decided to randomly glide his nails across your ankles. "That tickles stop, I can't focuse" you joke "I'm sorry. I just got bored, so I figured I'd just play with your ankle, " he said, making you laugh.

Aizetsu turns his head to see his hair in a single braid going down to his back. It wasn't too tight, but it wasn't too loose either. "I like it. It's perfect, " he said, taking your hand to kiss it.

Sekido

Sekido refused your offers to do his hair many times. When you suggested doing braids on him, he didn't refuse. He's seen humans with braided hair in many styles but never thought to try them on himself.

Sekido sat down on the chair with his arms crossed. He complains with almost anything you did, but you just kept going. "Tsk. Why are you brushing my bangs back?" He grunts "because I'm putting all your hair into a braid. Hush, you'll love the end results," you said only for Sekido to mumble under his breath.

Sekido eventually went silent. He watches himself in the mirror, examing his new appearance. "Since I am a clone, I never thought about my appearance. I don't think none of us do. " You stopped braiding for a moment and smiled at his confression "well I think you look beautiful"

Sekido looks at his braid and then sighs. "This is stupid and a waste of time," he said but blushed. His words may not seem thankful, but his actions were. He didn't take the braid out for a week after that and would scold his brothers for trying to ruin your hard work.

Karaku

Karaku made the suggestion for you to braid his hair. "I'd be more than welcome too, but what brought the idea to mind?" You asked. He touches your two braids going down to your chest. "I like how you braided your hair. I think I'd look good with two braids, don't you think?"

Karaku wanted the same hairstyle as you. You had two braids going down yet, which lossen them to look more fluffy, so you started to do the same on Karaku. "You're really good at this. You should do my hair all the time, " he said with a big grin. "I already do that"

Karaku kept playing with some of your hair pins and sighed "y/n are you almost done? I wanna seee" he whines, getting impatient, but you only ignore his behavior, but he only complains even more just to spite you.

Karaku didn't even have to look in the mirror to know he looked good. He purposely walked past his brothers and made sure to whip his hair, almost in their face, to notice the beautiful hairstyle you did on him.

Urogi

Urogi can't do his own hair because of his talons and relys on you to wash and brush out his hair. "Why don't we try a new hairstyle. Can I braid your hair and put it in two buns at the end?" You asked a bit nervously, thinking he might reject the idea, but to your surprise, he didn't.

Urogi kept turning his head every second to see how you braided his hair back and groaned every time you pulled his hair to make his head straight. "Stop moving." You continue. "But I wanted to see, stand on the other side!"

Urogi made you switch positions multiple times. You couldn't stand still. You had to move yourself to see what you're doing since Urogi wouldn't keep his head still

Urogi carefully uses his claws to touch at his hair, then then feels the braided buns at the end. "Do you like it?" You smile. Urogi picks you up and spins you around. "I really really like it!

#demon slayer fluff #kny fluff #aizetsu x reader #sekido x reader #karaku x reader #urogi x reader #douma x reader #kokushibo x reader #nakime x reader #fem muzan x reader

[saintvainglorious]

10 Best Black Sails Fics I Read in 2023

In honor of Black Sails' 10th anniversary, here's a list of my top 10 favorite Black Sails fics I read in 2023, in order from shortest to longest. Most Black Sails fic rec posts I've seen are now around 2 or 3 years old (though not all, bless @jaynovz and your #jay's esoteric rec lists tag) so nearly half of the recs in this list spotlight newer fics. It's amazing to see fantastic fics still being written and updated years after the show ended - y'all are keeping this fandom alive!

I didn't read that much Black Sails fic this year, comparatively speaking, so I'm sure there's plenty of newer gems that I missed. All the fics in this rec list are Silverflint unless otherwise stated.

1 - Gone To Port Royal by Apetslife (G, 3k) - a delightful oneshot from Gates' POV where they all go to a pirate afterlife. every scene is perfect. endlessly re-readable and never fails to make me smile.

Definition of Valhalla 1: the great hall in Norse mythology where heroes slain in battle are received 2 : a place of honor, glory, or happiness: heaven

2 - i’ll be seeing you by youatemytailor/@annevbonny (NR, 19k) - this is THEE post-canon Silverflint reunion fic. the anguish, the rage, the quiet jokes, the tenderness, it's all devastatingly in-character. particularly the chapter 5 climactic unspooling leaves me in awe upon every reread.

Silver is out of his chair and across the room before he knows it. He has a grip on the barkeep’s shirt before he knows it, and he’s pulling him up, hauling him eye-level, only to head-butt him to the ground again. The barkeep’s mouth is thrown open in a wail, but there’s no sound, Silver thinks, no sound at all, save for the blood rushing in his ears as he looks at the other man on the ground, watches him roll to his side with a groan. Flint, Silver thinks, and nothing else. It beats around the knife in his gut like a drum. Flint. And then Flint is looking at him.

3 - The Dark Lord Proprietor by Amiril/@runawaymarbles (M, 19k, Silverflintham) - a fuckin hysterical supervillain AU. Thomas has amnesia, Flint is pining, Silver tries to get them back together. what could go wrong? could not stop cackling.

A year ago, James Flint was in a stable relationship and was within spitting distance of taking over London. Now he’s single, with a dubiously loyal henchman, a lairmate determined to learn his every weakness, and a Secret Past with the new supervillain on the scene. And thanks to a new government program, it’s all a race to the bottom.

4 - the cross dimensional nassau bar of getting izzy hands laid by FortinbrasFTW/@fortinbrasftw (E, 19k ~WIP~, Flint/OFMD Izzy Hands) - a Black Sails OFMD Flint/Izzy Hands crossover. the very best kind of smut-as-character study. funny, gripping, and endlessly re-readable.

The first thing Izzy realizes is he looks absolutely fucking furious — which yeah, alright, fair enough. He’s got shorter ginger hair. A beard like Izzy’s but kept neater. Earrings like Izzy’s but worn simpler. Bleeding like Izzy but, well, maybe a bit less. And he’s handsome. Izzy realizes it suddenly and slowly somehow all at once. Bit like a bloody painting even. The kind you saw up on walls in rich folk’s houses. Only, well, no painting had eyes like that, did it? You’d have to be mad to keep a painting with eyes like that in your home. They were bright and clear and looked — honest-to-fucking-Christ — ready to set the whole damned world on fire. Izzy's terrible, horrible, no good, very bad night takes an interesting turn thanks to a completely different sort of pirate captain.

5 - frail and fragile bars by Ajaxthegreat/@francisthegreat (E, 21k) - Silver realizes, post-shark date, that he's in love with Flint. an instant, iconic fave fic. SO many delicious scenes and quotes that live rent free in my head. just read it, you won't regret it.

“I think you fuck,” Silver says. By which he means, with great intent: I think you are human. I know you are human. I see you.

6 - the whole estate of mortal man by Amiril/@runawaymarbles (T, 43k) - Creature Silver AU where he'll grant wishes in exchange for souls. first read this fic in 2020 and cried. reread it this year and cried again. the nature of the AU intersects so cleverly with Black Sails' themes, and the end result is devastating.

Silver has a limited memory, an unlimited lifespan, and a need for human souls. He spends months trying to buy Flint’s.

7 - our feast is but beginning by x_etoile_x/@etoilesombre (E, 55k) - Flint teaches season 1 Silver how to cook. they're definitely not dating. no, really. this writer writes dialogue so in-character that it cuts like a knife. features sensual cooking, Flint being a queer mentor for Silver, fun genderfuckery, and Them Being Real Tender.

Flint should walk away. Silver can figure out how to feed the men, it isn’t his problem. But roasting a pig is so easy, and when was the last time he had a hand in creating something rather than destroying it? Anyway, what else is he doing, with Billy taking the crew in hand with such annoying competency? He absolutely does not think about why he is reluctant for this interaction with Silver to end. “Go get another pig,” he says before he can reconsider. “Do exactly as I say.”

8 - With Strange Aeons by Amiril/@runawaymarbles (M, 60k, Silverflint + Flinthamilton + Jackanne) - Came for the Silverflint, stayed for the Silverflint but also for holy fuck Jack and Anne are sent to Savannah and break out of there with Thomas to battle literal Cthulhu. How can you NOT read this. I don't typically read Flinthamilton, but by god Thomas is amazing in this.

After the disappearance and presumed death of Captain Flint and Long John Silver, Max smuggles Jack and Anne to Oglethorpe’s plantation. Thomas learns that not only do the three of them have a friend in common, but he is not the only one whose dreams are haunted by a strange city and a terrifying name. Meanwhile, Flint and Silver try to escape an island trapped in time, impossibly built and impossibly old. Along the way they’re forced question reality, each other, and themselves. And in his house in R’lyeh, dead Cthulhu waits dreaming.

9 - The Salt and the Sea by x_etoile_x/@etoilesombre (E, 60k) - a between season 2 and 3 recovery fic. i still remembered months after reading that chapter 4 in particular left me undone. a harrowing journey into the ruins of post-leg loss Silver's mind, plus exquisite hurt/comfort.

John Silver was always able to make the best of a situation. If this particular situation had started to feel complicated, well, a vast fortune ought to prove clarifying. Whatever he might have imagined he’d seen in Flint, the reality was they had used each other. And he had been set to walk away on top. Except now he couldn’t. Now he was trapped.

10 - the straight walk home by vowelinthug/@vowel-in-thug (E, 73k, Silverflint + Jackanne + Maxanne + Billy/Vane) - A western AU and one of the best long fics in the fandom. Excellent comedy, amazing AU twists on our favorite characters, found family vibes, nail-biting action, and a fucking fantastic climax. Also, I can't believe this fic got me invested in Billy/Vane.

Let me tell you a story, about a vaquero named Vasquez...

#black sails #black sails fic recs #silverflint #fanfiction #fic recs #bsanniversary #10yearsblacksails #10bsfest

[aethon-recs]

Hullo!!

Thank you for all the great tomarry fic recs you have given to us!! Your recs are always the best and I love them all..🩷🩷

Do you have any Tomarry fics where Harry somehow time travels to the past where Tom is still in his Hogwarts years ?? And Harry becomes the transfer/new student and gets sorted into Slytherin??

I hope I'm not being too specific.. honestly, just any fic where Harry and Tom both go to Hogwarts!!

Thank you🩷🩷

- rioo xxx

Hi there! Thank you for your kind words 🤍

Here's a selection of fics featuring Harry and Tom attending Hogwarts together in the 1940s.

There's 23 fics in the list below, covering 1.7 million words, so hopefully there's some fics in here you haven't come across before! Happy reading!

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Hogwarts 1940s-era Tomarrymort Recs

A Future Without a Face by @dividawrites (E, 115k, complete)

Tom Riddle is a gifted teen with a personality disorder. He’s going to rule the world one day. Harry Potter is an extremely angry transfer student, or at least that’s what Tom believes.

And the Living Will Envy the Dead by @k-s-morgan (M, 81k, WIP)

When Harry looks at Tom, he feels overwhelmed. There is a spark that makes him hopeful, the fear that nothing he does will save Tom from himself, and the horror at what his lies might lead to. When Tom looks at Harry, he feels nothing. Until he does, and then Harry’s world starts drowning in blood.

At the end of every road by @sass-y-squatch (M, 90k, complete)

In which Harry is determined to prevent Voldemort's rise, even if he has to stalk, bribe, threaten, and marry Tom Riddle to do it.

But For You, I Did by @duplicitywrites (M, 21k, complete)

When 11-year-old Tom Riddle finally arrives at Platform 9 and ¾, he meets fifth-year Prefect Harry Evans, a Muggleborn Slytherin at the top of his year. Harry is everything that Tom wants to be—Harry knows exactly what it’s like to be special, intelligent, and have no one understand you. 

Custodarium by Tina48 (E, 73k, complete)

The war is over, and the Wizarding Britain has been slowly rising from the ashes. Harry just wishes none of it ever happened – what will he do when he’s given a chance to change the past? Was Dumbledore right about “the power he knows not” after all?

Devil's Hour by @exarite (E, 3k, complete)

Harry traveled back to Riddle's time with the intention to kill him, but it's been months and he's done nothing. Instead, night after night, Tom visits him in his bed. Harry lets him.

Embryo by @cannibalinc (NR, 28k, WIP)

While others only gossip about Grindelwald and dutifully prepare for their NEWTs, Tom is building an empire. He has painstakingly clawed his way to the top of his generation’s elite, and now he wants more—more power, more delights, more magic than has ever been explored before. That is Tom’s destiny, a King among men. No—a god. He need only rise to that which is his for the taking… if only one strange boy weren’t so determined to get in his way.

Enoument by @accipitae (M, 22k, complete)

Call if fate, call it destiny, call it getting hit by a car at five years old and flung into the past to land naked and bruised on the steps of Wool's Orphanage in 1931. Whatever it is, Harry grows up not in a cupboard under the stairs but in a small room shared with another strange boy.

Fate Granted by Flipdarkchill (M, 60k, WIP)

When a young Tom Riddle demands a friend in the middle of the night, he did not truly expect anything to happen. At least, not right away...

Game On, Your Move by @perhaps-sunlight (T, 75k, complete)

Be on guard, my Lord, writes Abraxas Malfoy, the new transfer student intends to kill you. Except Abraxas has terrible penmanship, and 'kill' and 'kiss' look awfully similar in shoddy cursive. Naturally, things escalate. A lot.

good night, darling by @purplemineralwater (E, 141k, WIP)

Harry's breath faltered. It was all so confusing... Harry had died. He had died and spoken to Death and suddenly he was standing in Hogwarts, in 1942, and the Sorting Hat had just pronounced him Slytherin.

Holly & Yew by @lovely-lotus (M, 236k, WIP)

After a bout of accidental magic when Harry is six, Vernon goes too far. When Harry wakes up, he is gravely wounded and more than fifty years in the past in another world. After some shuffling, Harry ends up at Wool's. There, he meets Tom Riddle, his mysterious roommate, eventual best friend, and the love of his life.

Infinite by @duplicitywrites (E, 8k, complete)

Harry and his twin brother Tom have the same mark. The same soulmate. Whoever their soulmate is, wherever they may be, they will go to Tom. Tom, however, has other plans.

nothing left to lose by @cindle-writes (E, 11k, complete)

Harry got to have Tom’s cock inside him anytime he wanted, but all he really wanted was Tom’s soul back inside of him.

Of Monsters, Of Men by @ca-xan-dra (M, 144k, WIP)

Harry’s first memory at Wool’s Orphanage is of Tom Riddle. He thinks Tom Riddle makes many exceptions for him. (He’s right.)

Promises, Promises by @mosiva (E, 72k, complete)

Harry, stuck in the past and trying to navigate Slytherin House with Tom Riddle at its head, is hit with a memory-loss spell. An unhappy accident, as the ever-friendly Tom Riddle is on hand to tell him.

Reckless Cartography by @meles-merrivale (M, 9k, WIP)

Just because someone is the love of your life doesn’t mean they’re good for you. And just because someone’s bad for you doesn’t mean you get to walk away. Featuring Harry and Tom attending Hogwarts together and slowly ruining each other’s lives.

Stab Right Through by @the-wig-is-a-metaphor (M, 82k, WIP)

Getting lost in old memories is a dangerous thing for anyone, but in Harry's case the whole situation is slightly more literal than usual, and—as it always tends to be—much, much worse.

Subjective by IceLynx (G, 1.5k, complete)

While Harry thinks Tom is extremely handsome, nobody else does. Most think Tom is rather average. Harry refuses to admit it and is forced to defend his opinion.

tautological by @cindle-writes (E, 7k, complete)

It had taken Tom quite a bit of trial and error to figure out how, but he had finally worked out how to exploit their shared horcrux connection and send Harry false visions and dreams. For a few weeks now, Harry had been waking up every morning to a rush of pleasure, soaked pajama bottoms, and Tom’s name a broken moan on his lips.

Terrible, But Great by @isalisewrites (M, 143k, WIP)

When Death gives Harry a third option, one that can save everyone he ever cared about, he takes it unflinchingly. Even when that means doing the impossible: falling in love with the enemy, Tom Riddle.

Vespertine by @itsevanffs (E, 24k, WIP)

Harry only blooms at night; Tom can see this much.

What Souls Are Made Of by Emeralds_and_Lilies (E, 278k, complete)

A mysterious object in Bellatrix's vault sends Harry, Ron and Hermione spinning into the past and to a Hogwarts like none they know. Posing as students, Harry catches the eye of the Head Boy, Tom Riddle, who is nothing like the Voldemort of the future. He's charming and sly and manipulative; both brilliant and deadly.

*

#tomarrymort #tomarry #harrymort #aethon recs #tomarry recs #tomarrymort recs #harrymort recs #hp fic recs #ao3 recs #fanfic recs #time travel #time travel fix-it #Slytherin Harry Potter #1940s recs #1940s tomarry recs #Harry Potter & Tom Riddle Attend Hogwarts Together

[kiwiana-writes]

Six(ish) Sentence Sunday

I tripped into a new WIP document again, whoops. This one is even more self-indulgent than usual (which is fucking saying something) aaaaaaaaaaand I already had a wee cry writing the end of it—and yes, the end was almost the first thing I wrote. I'M SURE IT'S FINE. I also made a moodboard for Inspiration Weekend earlier today, and while I think the snippet below will give pretty much everyone a good GENERAL idea of what I'm doing here, the moodboard + a couple of other little meta hints will be enough for those in the know to figure out more SPECIFICALLY what I'm doing here (and therefore why I had a weep writing the ending).

“It’s called NORA.” Henry barely spares Alex a glance, heading straight for the controls; he and NORA know each other well enough by now that she hums to life under his palms. “Navigational Oscillation of Relative Astronomy. And before you ask, no, I didn’t come up with the name. I’d tell you to take it up with the Time Lords, but…” he trails off as Alex gasps loudly, realising too late that he forgot to warn the man before opening the doors.  “It’s… bigger! On the inside! From the outside it looks small, but then inside… all this space!” There’s something odd about the way Alex is holding himself—his too-bright expression as he looks around, the way his palm presses to the centre of his chest instead of over his heart—but Henry doesn’t have time to figure it out, nor to hold this stranger’s hand through a fairly basic level of dimensional transcendentality. His Alex is running around out there somewhere, wearing god-knows-which of his dozen faces and liable to return to NORA at some point. And if he finds out Henry’s here… He knows exactly what will happen if Alex—his Alex—finds him. Henry’s not an idiot, and his diary is almost full.  But that’s a problem for another time. Right now, he has a job to do. And this man who invited himself along, with the right name and the wrong face, is nothing short of a distraction.

Is tagging still borked? Who's to say.

Tagging @agame-writes @affectionatelyrs @anincompletelist @celeritas2997 @cha-melodius

@clottedcreamfudge @cricketnationrise @dumbpeachjuice @everwitch-magiks @firenati0n

@getmehighonmagic @happiness-of-the-pursuit @heysweetheart-writes @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @indestructibleheart

@inexplicablymine @jellibuns @junebugclaremontdiaz @leaves-of-laurelin @littlemisskittentoes

@lizzie-bennetdarcy @magicandarchery @matherines @myheartalivewrites @ninzied

@nocoastposts @nontoxic-writes @notspecialbabe @orchidscript @piratefalls

@read-and-write- @rmd-writes @sherryvalli @ships-to-sail @smc-27

@sparklepocalypse @stereopticons @tintagel-or-cockleshells @welcometololaland @whimsymanaged and, as always, anyone who wants to play! (If you take the open tag please tag me so I can see!!)

#six sentence sunday #kiwiana-writes #fic: like loving the stars themselves

[y-rhywbeth2]

Lore Compilations (+ this blog's tagging/filter list at the end)

A WIP of a pinned post table of contents to tidy up the blog while I empty my fixations onto it plus a lore accuracy disclaimer (so I don't have to keep typing one), because why not. I like tables of content.

-

Disclaimer regarding lore accuracy: If you combine 50 years, 5 editions, 10+ settings, god knows how many novels, and then all the writers who all retcon and contradict each other's work then what you get is a clusterfuck. The lore I show here is compiled from all five editions of the game. You will likely see stuff out there that contradicts some things I say, or stuff I didn't mention/know. That's the lore for you. If you were the Dungeon Master making your own story, your job would be to pick and chose and build your own take on the setting out of it. I, personally, heavily favour older lore. Larian absolutely did this with Baldurs Gate 3 - frankly, I don't think they even know half this lore even exists, and Bioware took some liberties in the original games too. Wizards of the Coast themselves trample D&D into the ground all the time! All D&D is near enough fanfiction built on fanfiction. Therefore, if you find any information useful you may take it, leave it or tweak it to your desire for your own story, because it's D&D lore, and that's how it works.

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TABLE OF CONTENTS [WIP] (I make no promises as to the speed or order at which any of this is produced)

Abeir-Toril Why it's called the "Forgotten" Realms History | Time & Festivals | Lexicon [1] [2] | Languages | Living in Faerûn [1] [?] | Notable Organisations | Magic | | Waterdeep | The Underdark | Geography and Human Cultures

Baldurs Gate: The City #1 | The City #2 | Aministration & Government | ???

Religion How religion works in the Realms, the different pantheons in the world and then individual posts dedicated to the gods as individuals, how and why to worship them and how their churches function

Religion | Priesthoods and Temples | Deities

Deities in BG3 Shar | Selûne | Bhaal #1 | Bhaal #2 | Mystra | Jergal | Bane | Bane #2 | Bane #3 | Myrkul | Lathander | Kelemvor | Tyr | Helm | Ilmater | Mielikki | Oghma | Tempus | Silvanus | Talos | Corellon | Moradin | Yondalla | Garl Glittergold | Eilistraee | Lolth | Laduguer | Gruumsh | Bahamut | Tiamat | Amodeus |

The rest of the Faerûnian Pantheon Gods of Magic & Knowledge | Nature Deities | Cyric | The Elemental Lords | Good Deities | Evil Deities | Neutral Deities |

Vampires Feeding | "Biology" | Hierarchy & Powers | Weaknesses & Cures | Psychology

Elves Basics | Culture | Surface Elves | Religion | History | Homelands | Half-elves | Half-elves of the Yuirwood | The Crinti Half-drow

Drow Culture | Other Drow Cultures

Planars & Planetouched Tieflings | Githyanki | Bhaalspawn | Devils

Dwarves Overview | Culture | Specific Cultures | Magic | Religion | History

Orcs

Hin - That's "halfling", if you're over 3'4" Overview | Culture | Homelands | Religion

Gnomes Culture | Homelands | History | Religion

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Tagging system:

Various lore things that don't go in the larger compilations are tagged lore stuff

If I feel like posting anything I scribbled ("art"), the tag will be the scribbles

When I'm making posts and being negative or complaining about video games and trivial stuff, it will be filed as: griping

Whenever I find or consider something new about the Dead Three and/or want to rant and scream insults at Bane again, my tag is the idiot three

Things that aren't lore will get tagged babbling

When I babble about my characters, I tag it OCs, and the ocs are also tagged by name. So far I've only mentioned Vel

If I don't want to put my babbling about certain characters into the tags, I'll just put the / in front. /astarion, /orin, /gortash, /durge, etc

For sensitive material, such as if I feel like poking at the various delightful topics presented in the game - ranging from toxic relationships, the potential Banite police state, Bhaalist red rooms and the cult abuse and the creepy breeding programs - I'll use edgelord hours - as in Dead Dove Do Not Eat

When I want to babble about stuff happening in my game as I play it, they're tagged playthrough shenanigans

When I start talking about my oc's romance with Astarion I'll tag it petty murder boyfriends

When I want to get some popcorn and watch the disaster that is the Chosen and pre-amnesia Durge being irredeemably evil, I'll just tag it villainous nonsense for now.

#lore stuff

[dragonofthedepths]

Two for the Price of One 17.2.23

DP x DC. Danny Phantom, Vlad Plasmius, Batfam, Superfam.

The GIW manage to capture Vlad. It takes a few days for Danny to realize and rescue him, and that’s a few days too many.

They remove his core.

The core is a ghost, everything else is just incidental ectoplasm (and their body, their ability to move, to sense and experience and act on the world around them, but the core is the important part) that melts into goo with the core gone.

Danny is (seconds) too late to stop them from removing it, but not too late to stop them from stealing it.

Danny grabs Vlad’s core (Vlad), shoves it (him) into his chest for safety, and runs. He makes it to the Ghost Zone and keeps going, because they know about halfas now. They know about halfas now and Danny can’t even transform, because his ectoplasm is the only thing keeping Vlad alive and safe and healing, and transforming might just kill him.

The Ghost Zone isn’t far enough, they need to be so far away that trackers and systems can’t tell they even exist.

Clockwork obligingly drops them in a new universe.

Which is how the Batfam comes to deal with a very glowy (very very glowy, if you ask Signal) teen skulking around Gotham, snarling worse than a feral cat whenever they get near and booking it through walls.

Alternatively; they land in Metropolis and Superman can always locate them because of the humming sound their cores make, and he may not know what lead to this situation but he can tell it’s not good, and he’s turning up the farm-boy charm 100% to try to get Danny back to the Kent farm for a meal.

Alternatively alternatively; Clockwork is Kronos and told Danny to find Wonder Woman, because she’s honorable and (his granddaughter) if given a choice between the doing right thing and following the laws of men will choose the right thing. Wonder Woman is slightly freaking out, wondering why the heck Lord Kronos told her to take care of this teen and his currently-an-energy-parasite uncle. (She’s also doing it, because he’s right and she is honorable and dedicated to doing to the right thing. It’s just the LORD KRONOS part that’s throwing her.)

Day (627/100) in my #∞daysofwriting @the-wip-project 17th of Feb

#dc x dp #if it’s Batman he eventually figures out the trick to getting Danny home is by showing up as Bruce Wayne this time #Clockwork is Kronos #badger cereal #Vlad Masters #Danny Phantom #Batman #Superman #Wonder Woman #Vlad Plasmius #Clockwork #Danny & Vlad #redeemed Vlad Masters #GIW #the ​GIW are their own warning #DP #DC #ghost core retreat #scribblings from the deep #∞daysofwriting

[breachverse]

Breach: Chicago War Zone - WIP Update 18 - 26th of August 2023

… Hoo boy, this was one of the biggest I've ever made in one go.

Update 18 has been released! over 60k worth of words, finally finished the entire Chapter 2 Part 2 for the FBI route. This update is mostly for the FBI route with only minor fixes for the Archangel route. This update also includes the 1st hangouts for both Megan House and Rita Collins.

You may play it on the link below.

Breach: Chicago War Zone (Updated)

DEVELOPMENT LOG#18 (26-August-2023)

(B2.1.1.23.08.26)

Alpha - 18

Bug fixes, code and grammar fixes, WD40 fixes everything

C2P2 FBI: Finished day 1 events

C2P2 FBI: Continued FBI arc to day 2 downtime

C2P2 ARC: Fixed sewer tokens not setting correctly

C1P2 ARC: Upgrading heist vehicle armor now cost money

MISC: Added flash grenades to inventory stat

Alpha - 18.5

C2P2 FBI: Added hangout status to the day 2 breakfast scene

C2P2 FBI: Fixed crashing after the Greg scene

C2P2 FBI: Fixed eating sandwich crashing the game

C2P2 FBI: Finished day 2 events

FBI Hangout: Added Megan House's hangout part 1

FBI Hangout: Added Rita Collins' hangout part 1

FBI Store: Added Holliday's opening scene

FBI Store: Added Holliday's randomized cold opens COMPLETED: Chapter 2 Part 2 of The FBI branch (100%)

W.I.P.: AA Hangout Part 1 (26%) W.I.P.: AA Store system (85%) W.I.P.: FBI Hangout Part 1 (46%) W.I.P.: FBI Store system (65%) W.I.P.: Stat screen upgrade (40%)

Word Count: 823,723 words including codes (Last update was 759,012)

Good lord, 62k words worth of update. I honestly don't know what to say, this is the biggest I've ever written in one sitting. For those of you wondering, yes I am doing alright. Just a bit tired is all.

My prediction was that I would've gone over 40k words when I added Collins and Megan's hangout but, ooh boy, I didn't expect to be able to finish the entire chapter, but, yeah, that happened.

This update consists of the newly finished Day 1 and Day 2 of the FBI route, completely finishing off Chapter 2 Part 2 of the FBI route. Along with a few fixes, this is mainly a story update focusing on the FBI arc. There is no new Archangel route content. There is also some new hangouts for the FBI with Megan House and Rita Collins being available for hangouts. I can now finally move on to Chapter 3 Part 1 for both the FBI and Archangel arcs in update 19.

As part of this announcements, I would like to also announce that this is as far as where the public demo will go for now. From this point on, I will be focusing on private testing on patreon only. But fear not, I will update the public demo periodically with all of the hangouts and all of the available side missions.

I don't know what to go is with the Hosted Games requirements, but I may also update the public demo with the full beta version of the game going all the way to the last chapter at the end of development.

With that all said… I can officially say, it is now smooth sailing from here.

Thank you all so much for the love and support you've given throughout the entire journey. It's been a long 4 years but, we're getting closer to the end now.

Much love! ❤

Link to the CoG Forums post

I also have a Discord server!

As always feel free to drop however many screenshot feedbacks you'd like, either in the forums or in our Discord channel!

#breachverse #breach update #breach: chicago warzone #choice of games #interactive fiction #bcwz #breach the archangel job #if wip #choicescript #hosted games #cyoa #dashingdon #if game #interactive novel #breachverse news #btaj