#this was supposed to be a drabble why is this 12k--

[commandantexekial]

hi

i wrote a thing

it is very self-indulgent

[malfoyesque]

Fanfic writer. Mostly Dramione, but I drabble dabble in others

Follows back from @mrsbsmooth

🌷- Cute | 🔥 - Smutty | 🤡 - Funny |😖 Angst | 🏳️‍🌈 LGBTQIA+ | 👻 Dark

🌿A Fire I Can't Put Out - Hermione/Draco - 😖🌷🔥

Hermione is with Viktor, but he couldn't have been less interested in giving her what she needs. Fortunately, there's someone else who will. Someone who's been waiting a long time for another chance. - (8.6k words)

🌿A Little Pick-Me-Up - Hermione/Draco - 🔥

A competition to see who has the best pickup line backfires when Hermione uses Draco’s hand as a necklace, with sExXxXyY rEsuLtS (I’m so bad at summaries) - (7.4k words)

🌿 Hands Off - Hermione/Draco - 🔥🤡

Possessive Malfoy doesn't like hands on his wife. Only his. So she finds something else for him to do with them - (9.1k words)

🌿 Honey Sweet - Hermione/Draco - 🔥👻

He's there every single night. Without fail. The wardrobe is just big enough to watch from. (6.6k words)

🌿I was just thinking about it, I’m not gonna do it - Hermione/Draco - 🔥🌷

Draco has a breeding kink and is supposed to pull out but accidentally, like, doesn’t - (2.2k words)

🌿LDWS: Shakespeare in Love (Winner!) - Multiple Pairings - 😖🌷🤡🏳️‍🌈

A collection of Shakespearean drabbles as part of the Last Drabble Writer Standing competition (which I won!) - (3.9k words)

🌿Proof - Hermione/Draco - 🔥👻

Draco doesn't want this. He does, but he doesn't. He'll lose everything, or he'll lose her. But Hermione knows what she wants. And she's taking it. (2.9k words)

🦋 All I want for Christmas is five fucking minutes - Hermione/Draco - 🌷🔥 🤡

Colleagues and single parents juggle their lives to get some... 'grown-up' time. The office Secret Santa means Hermione can give Draco what he really wants for Christmas. (14k words)

🦋 Cut, Expose - Hermione/Severus Snape - 😖🌷🔥

Severus takes an eighth-year Hermione on as an apprentice. He acts professionally around her… Until she makes it impossible for him to do so. (14k words)

🦋 I warned you there’d be consequences - Hermione/Fred/George - 🔥🌷😖🤡

Ron's been cheating on her. His twin brothers are even angrier about it than Hermione is. Oops. (12k words)

🦋 If the Shoe Fits - Hermione/Draco - 🤡🌷🔥

Size queen Hermione gets stuck in the wall of the Room of Requirement. The man with the perfect cock finds her. But he keeps disappearing x so now, she has to try and find him. (24k words)

🦋 Keep Your Wand Up - Hermione/Draco - 🤡🌷🔥

Draco lowered his wand. And now, people are joking that he’ll never get it up again. So if the entire school were to just so happen to find out he was still a virgin– Yeah. You see the problem. But he soon finds out that he's not the only one. And that might be the thing that saves him. (19.6k words)

🦋 Overturned - Hermione/Draco - 😖🔥🌷

Voldemort's followers were punished harshly. Stripped of their magic, their money, and everything but their names. Hermione Granger, magical lawyer, won't stand for the cruelty. One by one, she's tracking them down to have their sentences overturned. But Formula 1 superstar Draco Malfoy doesn't want her help. And Hermione’s going to find out why. (WIP - Currently 5.1k words)

☂️Tell Me What You Want - Hermione/Draco - 🔥🌷🤡😖

Tensions are high. People are remembering how much they used to hate each other. A masquerade ball will keep things calm.

It won't leave Hermione frantically trying to cover up the fact she's slept with her worst enemy. It won't mean she now sees Draco Malfoy in a different light than she did before. It definitely won't make things awkward now that she might be his boss on a permanent basis. It won't. It won't.

A masquerade ball is a great idea.

(WIP - 108k+ words)

🌷- Cute | 🔥 - Smutty | 🤡 - Funny |😖 Angst | 🏳️‍🌈 LGBTQIA+ | 👻 Dark

[calsvoid]

Fic Writers Tag

i got tagged by @daisyishedwig thanks for that

i invite anyone who would like to do this <3

disclaimer: as i am a pretty inactive writer and have posted/finished a total of zero fics, most of these are going to be simply unanswerable for me and my answers revolve around my wips rather than any completed fics

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

none, but i have three (four? five?) wips right now

2. What’s your AO3 word count?

again none, but i got to 12k+ on the first and scrapped draft of one of my wips

3. What fandoms do you write for?

glee because i have so many brainworms for seblaine , but i do hope that one day i’ll have space in my head to generate other fandom fic ideas

4. Top 5 fics by kudos

none

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

i absolutely would if i had any, i love interacting with others and would answer as many as i could

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

out of my main wips, my kurt pov fic is probably the saddest just because if you’re a klaine fan, they break up, so rip. but that one is also more of a hopeful ending type of thing. the other answer is this one klaine wedding drabble that i have which is just pure angst for seblaine and they’re just in pain

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

most of my wips are all happy endings, but i like to think my blaine pov one is the happiest just because blaine gets to be in a good place in his life and heading for even bette

8. Do you get hate on fics?

have not written any, would not be surprised if i did just because i like characterizing seblaine as in love and that’s not super in-character

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

nope, have never been interested in writing smut, so probably not ever gonna be a thing for me

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one youve ever written?

also no

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

it’s impossible really

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

no

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

no, and also a thing that will probably never happen. i like my specific work process and having to combine with someone else would be really stressful i think. i do love to share ideas though and i suppose i could co-write in that way

14. Favorite ship of all time?

seblaine seblaine seblaine. they’ve been in my mind for almost a year now (though there was a small episode of not being obsessed with them) ever since i discovered them and i just adore them. they’re everything i love about pairings and i love the potential of the glee universe and all the characters and i’ve grown so attached to these two and they’re probably going to be my favorite for a very very long time. like the angst, the fluff, the little nuances i’ve built for them in my head. i’ve trapped myself and i will sit in my cage and have fun because they’re my sweet angels who are so fucked up and in love, i adore them. i’ve always loved ships where one is a second choice because damn if it doesn’t hurt knowing someone doesn’t want you (supposedly) and you’re not a real thing for them (supposedly). and like the fact they had this friendship that just went so wrong so fast. i’ll never get over them i swear

15. Wip you want to finish, but doubt you will?

my sebklaine au of my kurt pov fic probably. i do love it and the concept, but the fact that i’m putting it off until i can get the original finished means it’s probably never gonna come or be just very far into the future

16. What are your writing strengths?

not sure honestly? i haven’t really written a lot in the past forever, so i’ve never gotten a lot of feedback on my writing.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

i have a lot, but repetitiveness and my sentence structures probably. i have a lot of thoughts and i need to stop shoving them all into one sentence.

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

i don’t like the idea of using google translate nor do i want to research a bunch about languages, so i just like to put whole sentences in italics and write somewhere that they’ve switched languages. as for small words and phrases, i would probably do a bit of research on that, still use italics, but i’ll also write it out in the language

19. First fandom you wrote for?

cinderella and it was for a school assignment

20. Fave fic youve written?

ironically, my favorite is probably my kurt pov fic. i am a sucker for outsider povs and it’s just an idea i haven’t seen explored super deeply and i wanna do that because it would be so fun.

[orionwhispers]

Sweet Disaster// Tommy Shelby

(A/N - hello. so basically, i had a dream about chris evans, and then i modified it into this tommy imagine. it was supposed to be a drabble but i physically cannot write anything less than 12k words so thats great. honestly this is very similar to ‘fools gold’ but hey, im in the mood for some angsty fluff and fighting with our main guy tom. next tommy imagine will be the lolita wedding and that will be the fluffiest fluff that ever fluffed. thanks for everything, PLS let me know what u think. see you soon! stay safe!) 

trigger warnings: fighting, tommy being a douche, everyone being a dumbass, tommy getting jealous and implied sex.

You saw him on a Saturday night, at a bar on the outskirts of the city.

It had been three months, and you had hoped you would have managed to slip through the cracks; pass through the night like the foxes that roamed in the back alleys - but you had never been that lucky, especially not when he was involved.

It was your friend’s birthday, and you tipped back glass after glass of expensive champagne that bubbled and burned at the back of your throat. The lights were blinding, twinkling chandeliers and the smell of cigarettes and french perfume, something like bergamot and vanilla, lingering in the air.

Your dress was cherry red, your hair tied back with a sequinned headband and your lips and cheeks painted in rouge, but you had never felt so awful. It had been bad enough trying to find something to wear, the contents of your wardrobe tipped all over your floor, a mess of mesh and feather and lace, almost everything reminding you of him, as if he had been stitched right into the fabric. You had ended up curled in a ball on the floor, wiping your tears with the Chanel blouse he had bought back from a business trip in Paris.

Stupid fucking boys.

You could hear the girls talking around you, high pitched giggles and exaggerated voices as they gossiped about something or other that faded into static around you. You had spent the past three months holed up in your flat, only leaving for work or the street market on Sunday, stocking up with bread and wine and cheese, everything carb filled and rich to fill the hole in your heart. 

You weren’t used to the company of others or the hustle and bustle of a crowded room, and you sat back against the plush cherry velvet seats, dreaming of climbing into bed and devouring the slab of dark chocolate you had been saving.

Your close friend Emma, the one who knew the reason you were staring into space and not laughing and drinking with the rest of the girls, placed a manicured hand on your shoulder, and tilted her head slightly.

“How are you holding up?”

You snapped out of your trance.“I’m fine. I’m sorry I’m not much fun right now.”

“Nonsense.” She pushed you lightly, her voice as soft and playful as ever. “At least you came out! It hasn’t been the same without you.”

“Yeah - I’m sure everyone missed having me bawl like a baby and mope around.”

She elbowed you, “Stop bloody feeling sorry for yourself and have a shot! Christ! You can spend the rest of the week wrapped up in your duvet, but tonight - suck it up, and have a drink!”

She handed you a glass of something dark, and you brought it to your lips, tipping it into your throat with a wince. It felt as though you were drinking petrol.

“What the bloody hell was that?”

“Don’t know. Don’t care. All that matters is that it’s top shelf and it came from those fellas over there.” She pointed towards a group of men huddled around the bar. They were shooting quick glances and sly winks towards you and your friends. Sure they were relatively attractive, most likely handsomely rich and dressed in suits that looked finely tailored - but they made your skin crawl.

You hated the way that you would always be comparing other men to him, and you especially hated how they would always come up short.

An hour later and whatever liquor was coursing through your bloodstream had done its job, and everything seemed infinitely brighter. You even found yourself laughing at jokes and stories that you only caught halfway through, the alcohol wonderfully dizzying your brain.

You were so caught up in the rush of being drunk and finally feeling somewhat happy for the first time in forever; that you didn’t realise you had caught the attention of one of the men across the bar. You felt him sidle in next to you, following his friends who had snaked their way into your booth, their arms slung around the girls shoulders, whispering sweet little sentiments into their ears.

“Can I get you a drink?” He asked, so close to you that you could smell the sour whiskey on his tongue, your nose wrinkling.

“I’m fine, thank you.”

Perhaps you had spent so long being ‘Tommy Shelby's girl’ that you had forgotten what it was like when you were being hit on. You had spent so many nights safely tucked under his arm, his hands possessively wrapped around your body, an unspoken threat sent out to everyone and anyone around you - it had been a long time since a man had tried his luck with you.

Perhaps you were so infatuated with him that you never noticed anybody else. Your mind forever filled with visions of oceanic eyes and three piece suits, his Birmingham accent ringing through your ears like a gospel. He invaded all of your thoughts and infiltrated your dreams, and you loathed and loved him for it. The way that he filled your brain and heart like smoke, clouding your decisions and judgments, like some kind of magical elixir, blurring everything but the shape of him.

The man beside you didn’t concede. He cleared his throat, running a finger over the rim of your glass, ignoring the way your eyebrows furrowed and lip curled.

“Let me get you a drink, pretty girl.”

Pretty girl.

It sounded so wrong. It was never pretty girl. It was - darling, sweetheart, princess. It was - my love, honey, kitten. It was said teasingly and exasperatedly, it was whispered in your ear and buried into the space between your thighs. It was never said in the sticky corner of a club, from the greedy mouth of a stranger undressing you with his eyes.

“I’m - ” Taken. But you weren’t, not anymore, and you hated the way the thought of him made your lip wobble. It’s had been three goddamn months, why did the memory of him still make your body go up in flames?

Emma stiffened beside you, waving a dismissive hand at the gentleman speaking to her, and turned to face you and your unmoving suitor.

“We’re alright here, love. Thanks.”

A flicker of annoyance. His fingers tightening until his knuckles turned white, his tongue running across the ridge of his front teeth. He obviously didn’t take rejection well, and he was doing a shitty job at hiding it.

“Are you sure? It looks like she could do with another drink.”

You swallowed thickly, eyes rolling back at the way he dismissed you and spoke as though you were incapable of thinking for yourself.

“I’m fine.” Your words were curt and clipped, a clear indication of your disinterest, but he refused to back down.

“You shouldn’t be here all alone.”

“I’m not alone.”

“Really? What kind of man would leave a pretty little thing like you all by herself?”

“The kind of man that would punch you in the fucking teeth for speaking to her like that.”

You froze.

Oh Christ.

A million irreverent, evil, blasphemous phrases hurtled inside of your mind, and you knew that if Polly somehow ever caught wind of what you were thinking, you would be on the receiving end of a sharp slap around the head.

He was here. Of bloody course he was. He had a knack for showing up out of the blue and knocking all of the wind from your lungs.

It hurt like an open wound, feeling his eyes on you, the same ones that had looked at you with love and humour and gentleness, and not being able to fully meet his gaze - knowing just how much it would hurt if you did.

“She’s with me.”

His voice was firm, laced with the same sort of dismissive irritability he used to use whenever somebody tried their luck with you. This time was different however, you couldn’t roll your eyes and kiss him, you couldn’t put your head in the crook of his neck or mutter that you were his under the golden chandeliers, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hip.

You couldn’t do any of that anymore, because you weren’t.

The man seemed pick up on the tension, clicking his tongue slyly, unaware of the consequences his words would have. “Doesn’t seem like she is.”

“Get the fuck out.”

The penny must have dropped for the rest of the boys. The booth going silent as they realised just who the handsome shadowy figure towering over them was. You felt them slowly inch away, head down and gazes low, not wanting to be caught in the crossfire. A few hushed mumbles of “holy shit! That’s Tommy Shelby! One of those blinders!” hurtling around the tables beside you, not completely drowned out by clatter of the jazz band.

“I have every right to be here.” The ballsy stranger said, stiffening up beside you. His spine curled as he tried to make himself bigger. “Who says I have to leave?”

You huffed at his words, exhaling like a balloon. “That’s enough.” You didn’t want to cause a scene. You were exhausted, the night taking such a sudden turn you felt like you had whiplash, and the alcohol sat deep in your gut like a rock. You just wanted to get home, away from the man you wanted so badly your fingers ached to hold him, and crawl into your bed with your cat and a mountain of chocolate.

“Well, considering I own the fucking place, I think that I do - and if you don’t, I’ll shoot you.”

That seemed to do it.

You kept your eyes focused on the mans paling face, the grim look washing over him like salty sea air, you didn't dare turn and face the man you could feel burning holes in your neck.

“I.. I...” The man spluttered almost incoherently, rising to his feet and stumbling out from beside you. From behind you you heard Emma giggling coyly into her glass. “Sorry.” He mumbled quickly, his knees buckling when Tommy clapped a hand around his shoulder, holding him in place like a dog.

Tommy’s voice was still, almost too controlled, and you knew that his words were deadly. “If I see you around these parts again, I’ll put a fucking bullet in your skull.”

He gulped and nodded, darting into the sea of bodies in the crowd.

You kept your eyes low. Fumbling with the pearl clasps of your purse you squeezed Emma’s hand in parting and rose to your feet, wanting to leave as painlessly as possible, not even daring to look up at the face staring you down.

“I should go.” Was all you said, sliding out of the booth and onto the marbled floor. You saw the way the rest of the girls were watching the scene unfold before them, and you knew that by Monday you would have a lot of questions to answer, but right now you needed nothing but the safety of your flat.

You didn’t even let your shoulders brush against him. You coiled around him like a snake, your feet moving so fast your embroidered shoes were nothing but a blur of scarlet. You only made it to the hallway, he let you go far enough that you were in private before he reached for you, a familiar, large hand curving around the dip in your shoulder. You hated the way your body reacted, goosebumps rising to his touch unconsciously.

“(Y/N), wait.”

Your name on his tongue was sweeter than honey and richer than wine, it sounded so right that it hurt. It had been so long since you had heard him call you by your name, so long since he had spoken to you that your gut was twisting inside of you, your whole body aching for him to do nothing but repeat that word like a mantra.

You inhaled, thinking of a way out. It was too dangerous, you were playing with fire and you couldn’t get burnt, not again.

“I’m sorry — I didn’t know, it’s Jessica’s birthday and we - ” You hated how you stumbled over your words. You had never felt so uncomfortable around him and it made your skin crawl. You had kissed him under the stars, laughed with him in the corner of a private party, made love to him in every room of his fucking mansion, and now he felt like a stranger.

You knew what he looked like when he woke up, with his sleepy eyes and tousled hair. You knew what he looked like when had spent the night doing something unholy, you had cleaned his knuckles and kissed his wounds as you sat pressed up against him in the tub, his hands wrapped around your waist. You’d stood by his side, your hands intertwined in the middle of some expansive ballroom, and listened to him sweet-talk his way into a new business deal, all the while stroking his thumb over yours. You had seen him vulnerable, pulling you so close to his chest that it was like you were bound together, whispering to you how he loved you, how he couldn’t live without you.

But he still let you go.

He moved in front of you, leaving you with no choice but to meet his eyes. He looked good, but that was a given, he always did, no matter the circumstances. He looked so... soft. He always seemed that way around you, his eyes getting a little bit kinder, the harshness of his words dipped in sugar, even the sharpness of his jaw looked inviting and gentle, practically begging you to wrap your palm around it.

You bit your tongue. You were being ridiculous. You were seeing things that weren’t there. It was over between the two of you, he had made that very clear. You were grasping at straws and all it was going to do was hurt you.

He spoke suddenly, his thick accent cutting through the silence that felt so loud. “It’s alright. Only really been ours since last night, there were... problems with the last owners.”

Despite everything you felt the ghost of a smile tugging on the edge of your lips, immediately knowing what ‘problems’ he was referring to.

“Arthur?” You asked.

“Yes.” He said with a small grin. “Arthur.”

A moment passed. The air around you feeling all too hot and all to cold at once. It had been a long time since you had seen one another, and both of you were caught up in appreciating such familiar beauty up close. You had missed the small things about him, like the slight curl of his hair and the veins in his neck, you could remember running your lips across the curve and dip of his throat.

You were treading in dangerous waters. It wouldn’t be long until the current pulled you under, and you weren’t quite sure how much longer you could keep a rational mind. You inhaled, flittering your eyes to meet his in some kind of signal of parting, pulling your clutch tighter to your body as an attempt to keep yourself grounded. “I should go. It was good to see you, Tommy.”

You spun on your heel, heading for the large golden doors that led outside. Fresh air would clear your mind, the stars and the velvet night would be good for clearing out all of the junk rattling around in your skull, but you barely got two steps forward before he spoke, already knowing his next words before he even opened his mouth.

“Let me drive you home.”

He spoke so surely, addressing you the way he would one of his brothers or Johnny, as if he knew what was best for you. Once upon a time you would have believed that he did, let him grasp you by the wrists and drag you to the end of the world if he asked nicely, those fucking baby blues and pink lips dulling any warning sirens in your head.

Even now, after everything, you knew that he would never put you in danger, that he would always protect you. And it was with the knowledge of that striking your heart like lightning, you knew that you were still hopelessly, undoubtedly in love with him - not that you ever thought differently, but you had done a damned good job of pushing your feelings away.

“You’ve had a lot to drink,” He said, “and I wouldn’t even let you out on those fucking streets by yourself stone cold sober.”

You pursed your lips. “I’m not drunk, and you don’t tell me what to do.”

“I’m driving you home.”

You looked up at him through your painted lashes, disarming him in a million different ways you didn’t even realise. You were oblivious to the fact that his breath felt trapped in his lungs.“You and I both know that’s not a good idea, Tommy.”

“Cmon. Get your things.”

You sidestepped away, pushing the bottom of your heel deeper into the champagne coloured carpet. “No Tommy, I’m not a child! I don’t need your help.”

He rolled his eyes, something akin to fond exasperation rising to his cheeks. You felt your heart drop and flutter like it was a sparrow inside of you, you had never thought you would see that face again, and it hurt how something so simple could twist and mould you in his hands like clay.

He pressed his hands to the small of your back, pushing you forward.

“I don’t care if you don’t want my help. I’m doing it anyway.”

You huffed. Too tired and drunk and confused to put up a real fight.“Fine.” He smiled coyly and his smug attitude made you click your teeth, running a hand through the curls in your hair, not stopping the childish retort on the edge of your tongue. “Prick.”

You felt his hand swat at you, dangerously close to the hem of your dress and you were certain that your cheeks were the same colour as the candles flickering on the tables below. It was such a playful, tender thing to do, and so horribly familiar - memories of his hands on you, pinching and teasing and digging in, a way of communicating without words, something so intimate and personal, something that only the two of you knew.

You wondered if he felt the same way. You wondered if he was reminded of the past, of peach moons and starlight kisses and strawberry lipstick, but as always he remained impassive, as poker faced as always as he strolled down the hall, pushing open the wide brass doors and waiting for you to pass through, him trailing behind you, like always.

———————————————————————

Through your hazy eyes the moon almost looked pink, like a spotlight shining down on you, illuminating the both of you as Tommy’s car purred down the streets, like a black cat stalking under the cover of darkness.

It smelt like him.

Like cigarettes and sin and mint and woodsmoke. You were reminded of driving at midnight with the windows down, his hand wrapped around your thigh, his eyes anywhere but the road. You thought of sticky skin and leather seats and the smell of sex, breathless little laughs and the feel of his teeth biting down on your top lip.

You stared at the polish on your fingernails, hoping for some kind of distraction from the man beside you. It wasn’t far to your flat, and you prayed that the drive home would be as hitch free as possible.

“Had a good night?” Tommy asked, looking over at you from behind the wheel. He’s not even sure what he’s saying, his usually mechanical brain almost short circuiting because you’re finally next to him again. Words and phrases seem tasteless and meaningless, but he wants to savour as much of you as he can. He knows it makes him hypocritical, especially given everything he’s put you through, but he’s never really been very conventional with his love.

“It was alright.”

“Friends from work?”

“Yeah. It was Jessica’s birthday, she wanted to get drunk, you know how it can be.”

“And that...that man - ?” He cleared his throat, hoping that his words came off breezier than they sounded in his head, pretending as if the thought of you with somebody else didn’t feel like a noose around his neck. “Who was he?”

“Just some stupid twat.”

Your words weren’t doing much to quell the fiery flicker of anger inside of him, half of his brain telling him to turn the car around and put a razor blade through the fuckers eye - but one glance over at your sleepy, beautiful face and all of his jealousy fades into mere smoke.

None of it matters.

Nothing will ever matter more than you.

“I shouldn’t have even been out tonight, but Emma practically dragged me.”

Emma. The name rings a bell. He flips through a mental picture book of everyone you’ve spoken about, and finally lands on the glamorous, dark skinned, velvet haired vixen that you called your best friend.

Memories come flooding back.

The nights you would spend with her when he was too busy with work. How in the darkness of his office with nothing but an empty feeling in his chest and glass of bourbon beside him, the phone would ring and cut through the silence.

He’d roll his eyes when Emma spoke quickly down the line, words slurred and filled with giggles as she would explain the drunken shenanigans you had both fallen into. He’d drive through the night and the dim city streets, his mind for once not filled with business deals or money, instead his heart tugging at the thought of his doe eyed, honey lipped girl waiting for him in the city.

“I think she had too much to drink.” Emma would say, clambering into a taxi cab she had managed to hail, teetering in her tall satin shoes. “I wanted to take her home with me, but she was causing such a big fuss and asking for you - couldn’t bloody say no.”

Outside the club his voice would be stern and his stare would be solid. Clipped, quick words to the doormen, feeling you press your cold nose into the base of his throat, mumbling something incoherent about how pretty he was. He’d scold you fondly. Settle you down in the back seats of his car and cover you up with his jacket, smiling ever so softly at the way you cuddled into the warmth and the familiar smell.

He thought of how lonely his nights had been without you.

“How is she?”

“Fine. Everyone is just fine.”

But how are you? He wants to ask, but he has a feeling that no matter the answer he’ll still end with a bullet in his gut, so he lets the silence engulf the both of you, nothing in the air but unspoken tension and the soft purr of the engine.

He had an idea. Something conniving and crafty, something that he’s been wanting to do since the night he told you that it wasn’t safe to be with him, the night he told you to leave. Thomas Shelby has always been a strong, level headed man, but something about you just makes him crumble. You have a way of twisting around him, snaking around his thoughts and feelings like a vine, and he gives himself up wholly.

He would never put you in a position you were uncomfortable with, but he can’t help the claw in his gut when he thinks of how long it’s been since you’ve been apart. He can smell the sweet liquor and perfume on you, can see the way your eyes are glossed ever and your hair is mussed. You’re tired, and after the way that goddamn leech of a man had been fawning over you Tommy is in no mood to leave you alone, he likes knowing that you’re safe, it’s the only thing that makes him able to sleep at night.

He glanced over to you, watching as you yawned into your palm, your soft, pretty eyes looking at the stars and the moon and his decision was made for him.

“You missed the turn.” You said a few moments later, perking up a little in your seat.

“Hmm?”

“You missed it. You should have turned left back there.”

He doesn’t say anything, and you’re pretty sure you know the reason why. Despite the part of your body that is sparked like a match at the thought of spending the night with him, you also know that it is too dangerous, that the two of you together are fire and gasoline.

“No. No, Tommy. I’m not staying over with you.”

“Yes you are. You can stay in a guest room - it’ll give you time to sleep off that hangover.”

“I’m hardly drunk.”

“Well, when we get home you can walk in a straight line for me, eh?”

“It’s not my home.”

That hurt.

He ignored you, feeling the familiar bite of irritation, hating that he wasn’t the same man to you that he once was. He could feel his tone getting desperate, and under any other circumstance he would be furious at being so weak, but never around you. “Just stay. Tonight? For me. I’ll sleep better knowing you’re not getting into any trouble.”

“Tommy Shelby never sleeps.”

You huffed and crossed your arms over your chest, sighing in defeat. Tommy smiled, and realised as the car lurched over the bridge that’ll take you back where you both belong that he’s the happiest he has been in a long time.

—————————————————————

His house was as intimidating as ever, even more so under the thick blanket of the night. The architecture looked gothic, the sprawling roof and high chimneys almost seeming menacing as the car pulled up along the gravel, the low sound of the rocks crackling like a fire.

It almost felt strange. A house you had stepped foot in hundreds of times, suddenly feeling unfamiliar and mystifying. It was like the very first time you had seen the house a few years ago, how the large rooms and the tall ceilings seemed empty and dangerous, as though they housed a million secrets.

But since then it had been full of so much light. You had danced with him playfully, barefoot on the kitchen floor, with the windows open and soft jazz flittering in the air like sunlight. You had slept on the sofa in the drawing room, tangled up against his bare chest, the room littered with wine stained glasses and cigarette burns. You had laughed until you had cried, kissed him on the vivaciously on the mouth, sat through dozens of rowdy family dinners, shared coffee and pastry under the sleepy morning light - and now it felt as though a million years had passed.

You let him lead you inside. Keeping a safe distance and a wary eye as though he was an unpredictable stray dog that needed to be kept at arms length. He sensed your suspicion and ignored it, marching forward like a solider, pretending that your distrust didn’t make him feel awful. He hated to think of you on edge because of him, he hated how small it made him feel. He never wanted to be insignificant to you.

You noticed how bare it was in the hallway. Once upon a time the coat rack would have been filled with your furs and shawls, your pastel pink boots and his forever charcoal posh oxfords lined next to one another, a poignant reminder of their owners and the differences that you both shared.

It wasn’t just lack of your belongings, somehow the house seemed much emptier. It didn’t smell as worn as it usually did, the warmth of a recently lit fire didn’t dwell in the air and there were no keys or shoes by the front door. You knew that Mary kept a clean house, but this was something different, and a sour thought suddenly hit you.

“You haven’t been home much?” You tried to keep the jealousy out of your voice and remain level headed, but it was proving hard when you were feeling so nauseous at the thought of him sharing a bed with somebody else.

“Lot of late nights at the office.” He shrugged his jacket from his shoulders and wrapped it around a hanger, his icy blue eyes catching yours. “Home didn’t feel like home anymore.”

You didn’t miss the implication in his words, but you chose to ignore it.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

“I thought I was here to sleep.”

“You are. But what kind of host would I be if I didn’t offer my guest a nightcap?”

You made a noise. Something halfway between a scoff and a huff.

“Tea? Whiskey?”

“No, I’m fine thank you.”

“What about hot chocolate? I still have some of that god awful strawberry stuff you love so much.”

Memories of sickly sweet strawberry kisses flash in your head. Images of Tommy wincing and groaning as if you had poisoned him. Belly laughs and pillow talk. All things you had tried so hard to forget.

“No. I don’t drink that anymore.”

He looked at you. There were no diamond chandeliers or dark corners or red velvet walls distorting your appearance, just the two of you stood opposite in the hallway of his mansion. He looked you up and down, not in a sleazy way, like the man at the bar who had so desperately wanted to get his hands under your dress but almost - longingly. There was something in his eyes. Swimming right in those ocean eyes was something you couldn’t quite make out, he opened his mouth to say something but before he could speak you heard the whine of the door above you.

“Mr Shelby! You’re back.” It was Mary, stood at the top of the stairs. Still dressed in her maids uniform despite the ungodly hour, she looked as pristine as ever, and you couldn’t think of a time you had seen the elderly woman without makeup on. She flew down the stairs, eager to offer Thomas anything she could, but she stopped dead in her tracks when she finally saw you.

“Miss (Y/L/N)!” She said, trying to control the shock in her voice. She hadn’t been there the day that you left, but it wouldn’t take a fool to guess what had happened between you and her boss. Just like you, she probably assumed you would never return to the Shelby house. After a moment she smiled kindly, regaining her composure after the initial shock. “It’s a pleasure to see you once again.”

“And you, Mary.”

“Oh! Mr Shelby I’ve made up your quarters and -” she stopped, realising what she was saying and she awkwardly shifted as she tried to change the subject. “Can I get you anything? Shall I bring you some tea? Or some wine?”

“Oh no. I’m fine thank you, really.”

“You know what Mary,” You heard Tommy say, a cigarette dangling from his lips. “Can you fix us some drinks? Whatever’s in the cupboards is fine. Oh, and bring us those chocolates Ada brought from New York. We’ll be in the sitting room.”

“Tommy - ” You started, but he was already gone, walking through his house with renewed energy, and you strained your ears to hear the sentences he called out over his shoulder.

“One drink. For old times sake.”

“Ugh. You’ll be the death of me, Shelby.”

———————————————————————

It should have been awkward. It should have been awkward and uncomfortable and painful - but it wasn’t.

He lit a fire, something about the yellow flames and the crackling wood soothing you like warm milk. You missed the feel of his sofas, the ones that cost such an outrageous price that it made your eyes water, and you sunk into the cushions far more easily than you liked. Mary had made your favourite drink, and the situation felt so familiar that it was ridiculous, but it was more ridiculous how good everything felt.

He was as charming as ever. Giving you those side eye glances and cheeky smiles as he spoke, asking about your family and telling you stories of the trouble his brothers had been in. He moved around the room in a blur of navy, because as God would have it tonight of all nights he was wearing your favourite blue suit, the one that made him look so beautiful and powerful.

He didn’t ask about work, and you were glad, because you weren’t ready to tell him yet.

Perhaps an hour passed, the two of you dancing around each other, neither one wanting to be the one that crossed the line first. Your mind was blurry but you knew that this had gone on too long, you needed to pull the plug before it was too late, but as always, Tommy got there first.

“It feels like fate.” He said, his voice so much warmer than it had been a few moments before.

“What does?”

“Running into you tonight.”

You scoffed. “Please. Tommy Shelby doesn’t believe in fate.”

“I didn’t. Not until I met you.”

Your whole body felt like it had been set alight. He knew just what to say to get you to curl around his little finger. He was watching you intently, moving forward so his elbows were on his knees, as though he was desperate to hear your reply. He was being honest, more so than he had been in a long time, but your mind was too filled with the past to give into his sweet words.

“So,” You said, knocking back the last dregs of your drink. “Are you just going to pretend it never happened?”

“What?”

“Cut the crap, Tommy.” You snarked. “You know what I mean.” A breathless laugh. “God, this is ridiculous. I shouldn’t have come here.”

“Don’t say that.”

You rubbed your forehead, massaging away a migraine you could feel brewing. “I need to go to bed. I don’t want to get into all of this again.”

“(Y/N) - ”

“Goodnight, Tommy.”

You stood up and heard the sound of his glass of whisky hitting his red oak table. Your fingers touched the edge of the door handle, but he was pulling you backwards before you could leave. You were facing him, trying to keep your eyes away from his, not wanting to go falling into him the way your body desired.

“You might not want to talk but you can listen.” He said, so close to you that your noses were almost touching. You pursed your lips and squirmed like a child, but he raised an eyebrow and you huffed, letting him speak, his words shattering you like you were a sheet of ice.“Im still in love you.”

You bit your lip to stop from crying. The scab had been picked off, blood clotting down your ankles and onto the floor.

“Think I will be till the day I die. Even after.”

His words were so sincere and you wanted to believe them. You could feel him watching you, cornering you, willing you to say the words back, needing to hear the words fall from your lips.

You held up one finger, trying to stop him from speaking. “Don’t.”

“It’s true.”

You could feel the hot prickle of tears forming in your eyes, and the way your throat constricted like you’d been swallowing cotton balls.“Was this the plan all along? Invite me back, get me drunk and think I’ll crawl back into bed with you after you tell me a few lines?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I would never do that to you.”

He was angry. More so with himself, he’s always been in control, so articulate and calculated, but he was losing his grip on you, his knuckles turning white. He knew he made a mistake that night when he told you to leave, but his pride was too strong to do anything about it. Seeing you tonight had been more than just a coincidence, he knew that, and everything in him was screaming at him to fight for you.

“I miss you.” It ached for him to say it out loud, such a powerful man admitting that you were his weakness, that you bring him to his knees like he’s a child.

“I miss you too, Tommy, you know I do. But - ”

“I fucked up.”

“Tom.”

“I never should have let you leave.”

“We - Us - It’ll never - ” You couldn’t think let alone speak, all of your words twisting and tumbling from your mouth like loose marbles.

“We were a lot of things, but you can’t tell me that we aren’t supposed to be together.”

“I don’t want to talk about this... I can’t!”

“So let’s not talk.”

His lips met yours and you were on fire. The breath you didn’t know you were holding was knocked out of you by the force of his body on yours. His hands were all over you, checking you were real, feeling the curve and dip of your body the way his mind had conjured up in the dark in the months that you had been gone, he savoured you entirely, he devoured you.

“This isn’t - This isn’t right.” It was lie. Nothing felt more right. Your whole body ached and quivered for him, you wanted to breathe in his smell and run your fingers through his hair until they bled, but you also didn’t want to go down without a fight.

He knew you too well though.

“Stop it.” He had you backed up against the wall, his body pressed in between your thighs. He’d caged you in, one hand curling softly under your jaw, manipulating you so that you had no choice but to look right into his damn sea foam eyes. “Stop being so stubborn.”

“Stop being such a prick then.”

Lips on your neck. His hands all over you. Inhaling your perfume and the smell of your hair, digging his fingertips into your hip, a jolt of pain that you knew would leave a bruise. He captured your lips again, relishing in the way you felt under him, he was desperate for more, and he smiled cheekily when he heard you moan.

“I thought you wanted to go to sleep.” He teased, his voice was playful but he was struggling to keep his composure, he felt like his head was being held underwater, the pleasure teetering on pain.

“I hate you.” You said, gasping for air, feeling adrenaline and liquor and lust flow through you.

“No you don’t.”

You bit down on his plump bottom lip, hard enough to draw blood. He winced slightly, and rolled his eyes, shoving you backwards into his bookcase, kissing you even harder. A few novels and a porcelain figurine fell to the floor, the small black horse shattering at your feet. He grumbled slightly, and you giggled into his neck. You bent down to try and collect the broken pieces but he swatted your hand away, kissing and sucking all across your neck and throat, wanting to mark his territory.

“Stop that. I don’t want you cutting yourself.” He muttered into your flesh, clasping your hands together and holding you by the wrists, refusing to let you do anything but melt into him - not that there was anything in the world you would rather be doing.

Slowly the kisses got softer, more tender, all across your collar and shoulders like raindrops. There was something methodical about it, almost poetic, like he was trying to savour the taste of your skin, and the way your body rippled under him. After a moment he stopped, his hands tangling into your hair, gripping you by your jaw, looking into your glossed out, wide eyes.

“I really fucking missed you. I’m sorry.”

You shuddered. “I know.”

“Tomorrow we’ll talk. Alright?” There are a million things he needed to say. A million things he needed you to know, but there was nothing more important to him at that moment than having you under him, letting his body show you all of the things he couldn't put into words. He needed you, all of you. His head was fucked and he needed the wash of calm you gave him, he needed to feel whole, the way that only you could make him.

“Tomorrow.” You whispered.

He nodded solemnly. Ducking his head and pressing your mouths together, hot and raw and heavy. You were sweeter than sugar, stronger than whisky and prettier than all of the stars in the sky, and he struggled to keep himself from buckling at the knees under your touch. The only thing that could stop him from moulding your bodies together were the sweet little words that left your lips, the ones that rang like a gospel in his ears.

“Take me to bed, Tommy.”

————————————————————

He broke it off three months prior.

You had been missing each other, your schedules hectic and mismatched, and it had been a good few weeks since you had spoken for more than a few stolen seconds over the telephone. Finally, like the sun parting through rain clouds, there was one weekend that was empty in both of your diaries and Tommy told you to expect a car outside of your flat one Friday afternoon.

A whole weekend. Two days and three nights spent with your beloved, it should have been a time filled with late nights and rumpled bedsheets, coffee in the morning and wearing nothing but his linen shirts and the pretty lilac underwear he loved so much - but it turned soon turned sour.

On Sunday you had been making rhubarb pie. Folding and rolling the pastry between your fingertips, listening to the birds whistling through the open window and the lull of soft jazz from the radio behind you.

He had taken a call. A sullen look falling over his face as soon as he answered the phone. He had shut himself in his study, and all you could hear was the deep rumble of his voice and the sound of his footsteps, and so you left him alone, and busied yourself with other things.

It had all been so wonderful. Riding his horses through the fields, reading books under his arm as he rifled through papers, stealing kisses that tasted like hard candies and peppermint. You'd forced him to relax, made him take a bubble bath with you, poured lavender and vanilla oil across his aching shoulders until he let out an involuntary moan, ran your fingers through his hair until his breath evened out and his eyes fluttered shut, finally feeling at peace next to the woman he loved.

You’d laughed and made love and kissed and danced and it had all be so perfect.

Until it wasn’t.

For 48 hours he had been yours. He wasn’t “Thomas Shelby, leader of the Peaky Blinders,” he had been your Tommy. You weren’t a fool, you knew that work was always the most important thing to him, that he lived and breathed for the company he had built from his two bare hands, his work ethic and brilliance was something you admired about him, but it didn’t mean that it didn’t sting when he slipped back into business mode.

It had been about an hour, and you were cleaning the counters, something soothing about finding the dark marble granite under the mess of flour. You knew that Mary would have a fit if she knew you were cleaning, but you enjoyed the normalcy it gave you. You heard him before you saw him, the sound of his matte leather brogues on the tile in the hallway, and you lifted your head when you felt his presence in the doorway.

“You need to leave.”

His tone was so sudden and blunt that it almost made you laugh, but one look at the sallowness of his skin and the intensity in his eyes made you straighten up. “Excuse me?”

“It’s Sabini.”

“What about him?”

“He knows - he fucking knows.”

He was being uncharacteristically agitated, and it sent a deep chill down your spine. You lurched forward, hands spread, wanting to carry some of his worry. “Knows what? Tommy, calm down.”

“He’s had men lurking outside your flat.”

“What?”

“One of the new boys spotted ‘em. Fucking filth have been there all weekend.”

You felt your heart sink to your stomach. Truthfully, whilst the thought of Sabini and his men watching you made your skin crawl, you were more worried by the way it seemed to have frazzled Tommy. You weren’t used to seeing him so... anxious, and that sent red hot warning signs to your brain.

Your relationship had never been a secret per se, but you never made it public. After a few months of rendezvous in hotels and bars up and down the country, and Tommy realising his feelings for you were much more than just lust - he laid everything out bare. He told you he wanted you. But he also told you what the consequences of hanging off his arm were. You knew the risks, knew what chaos his love could bring, but you were falling so deeply that none of it mattered to you. You weren’t stupid, and Tommy did everything in his power to keep you safe, and the two of you found a mellow middle ground, a place where you could be happy and young and in love, without all of the mayhem.

“Well - it’s alright. I’m here. I’m safe aren’t I? He was probably just scoping the place out, he probably thought you were there and - ”

You were rambling, and most of what you were saying was untrue. You both knew the reason that Sabini was there, it was a message, a warning. A threat to Tommy that he could take away his weakness with one snap of his slimy little fingers.

You shrugged off your apron, and stepped towards him, shaking your head. “We knew that one day this would happen. That people would find out, it’s not your fault Tom.”

“We were stupid. We were reckless.”

“And what? We were supposed to just stop living our lives in case somebody saw us?”

“Not just somebody. Somebody who could fucking kill you.”

“Tommy.”

“You need to leave.”

“Listen to me -”

“I’ll get Bernard to drive you to the station. Your friend...” He paused momentarily, trying to remember a name he had heard in passing. “Sarah? She still lives in Manchester doesn’t she? You’ll stay with her till I’ve sorted this out.”

You scoffed, your eyes the size of dinner plates.“I’m not leaving.” You tried to make him see sense, but you were having a hard time keeping your voice levelled. “I’ve got work, Tom. I can’t just up and leave.”

He ignored you. You could see his brain whirring a mile a minute, the wheels inside his mind frantically looking for a solution. You marched over to him, forcing him to look at you. “I’m not scared.”

“Well then you’re a fool.”

“Am I? For not running at the first sign of danger?”

“Don’t fucking start with me. Not about this. This isn’t some fucking game.”

“I never said it was, Tom. But what? I’m supposed to hide out in another fucking city until all of this settles down.”

“Stop being so fucking difficult.”

“I’m not being difficult. I know what I signed up for, we both did. We knew this would happen eventually.”

“And now that is has - we have to be smart.”

“Not everything in life is a business deal.”

“What would you know about that?”

It was a low blow. Something that struck you like a winning punch to the gut, you stepped back from the impact, shaking your head and pursing your lips. You’ll let him brew in his anger, let him get worked up and pissed off, and you’ll wait for his apology in a few days, something expensive and designer showing up at your front door, his way of saying “I’m sorry I was such an asshole.”

“You know what? I’m leaving. Call me in a few days when you get your head fucking screwed back on. We can talk then.”

“No.”

It came out strangled, like the word sliced the inside of his throat when he said it.

“What?”

“You need to stay away. We need to end this.”

“End this?” You scoffed. “What? Like we’re just a business deal?”

“It’s not safe, and I can’t do anything that’s going to jeopardise the company.”

“The fucking company?” You were furious, your body stinging with hurt, feeling betrayal wash over you like sour milk. “How - How dare you!”

“I think it’s best if we spend some time apart.”

“So this is it then? You’ll throw away everything just because some fucking man has been looking around corners?” His silence made you more enraged, and you willed him to fight back. Fight for you. “Do you want me to leave? Do you want me to go, Tom?”

Silence.

And then - “It’s not safe.”

“Fuck you.”

That was the last thing you had said to him. Three words replaced with two that shattered around the room like an earthquake. You had tears in your eyes, and you rushed upstairs to pack your things, your heart breaking into sharp little pieces inside of you. He could hear the start of your sobs, the ones you tried so hard to muffle with your hand and he truly fucking hated himself. He gripped the marble above the fireplace and steadied his breathing, pushing out any thoughts of the weekend. He willed himself to shove away the happy memories, the sound of your laugh and the smell of your skin, the way he didn’t hear the shovels when you were beside him, safe and warm in his arms.

He needed to do what he did best, regain control and protect those he cared about, and right at the fucking top of the list was you. Any niggles of rationality and guilt telling him that pushing you away was wrong quickly turned to ash in his mind, he was certain that this was the right thing to do, despite the way that it really fucking hurt. He had to keep you safe. Men like him didn’t get to have nice things like you.

So he shut the door to his office, muffling the sound of you rummaging around upstairs, a part of you wishing and hoping that he would open the door and kiss you and apologise, and instead he picked up the phone, and went back to work.

———————————————————————

You woke up to sunlight painting your skin, and an empty bed, the silk sheets in disarray and bundled beside your bare body.

Oh fuck.

Oh fuck.

Like an ice cold bucket of water dropping over your head, you remembered every detail of what had happened overnight. Your skin relived the feeling of hands and fingertips and oh god, tongue dragging all across you, branded into your memory like a burn. It was the best nights sleep you had gotten in a long time, and the bed was so warm and soft and smelling like sin that you struggled to even lift your head from the pillow to check the time.

Mid morning.

You hadn’t slept in this long for a while, and you knew the reason why. Head slightly pounding from too much alcohol and adrenaline, you crawled out of bed, washing the remnants of last nights makeup from your face and pulling on your crumpled dress and stockings that had been haphazardly flung over the furniture. Your heart lurched a little when you freshened up in the bathroom and noticed your toothbrush still in the holder on the sink, right next to his.

You could hear cluttering downstairs and followed the noise, standing in the doorway of the kitchen, unable to stop the small smile that the sight gave you. He had evidently sent Mary on an errand, something far away so he could make you both breakfast in peace, away from prying eyes. He looked so boyish, so domestic, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, nimble fingers turning the bacon on the pan, his hair mussed from sex and sleep. It made you feel like you had swallowed a match. Your whole body alight from seeing him so gentle and vulnerable, so bare for just you to see.

Thomas Shelby whisking eggs and squeezing oranges, barefoot in his own kitchen, the sight rarer than a unicorn, and you were the only person who ever got close enough.

“Hi.” It left your mouth awkwardly and rolled off your tongue like an ice cube.

“Morning.” He turned and smiled, his lazy eyes trawling the length of your body. You hadn’t noticed it, but he felt a flicker of hurt that you were in your own clothes, a part of him wanting and hoping that you would be in one of his shirts, something that he loved much more than he could comprehend. He shook his head, willing the thoughts away. “It’ll be done soon. I think I’ve burnt the toast though, and probably added too much salt to the eggs.”

You smiled thinly, the light not reaching your eyes. This was all too much, all too soon. He was here and he was beautiful and you were right at the frontline, ready to get your heart broken all over again.“Last night,” You cleared your throat, as though the words were lodged deep inside. “It was a mistake.”

He didn’t blink, cool stare focused on the meal he was preparing, long fingers methodically slicing and dicing, as though your words didn’t make his heart thump against his rib cage. He didn’t like it, not one bit, the way that it sounded as though you regretted the time you had spent together. He never wanted you to feel like that, like the intimacy you had shared was something crude, as though you were a one night stand of a drunken fuck at a bar, this was so much more than that. This was love.

But Tommy liked holding his cards to his chest, and it was much easier to tease you then tell the truth.

“It didn’t feel like a mistake. You seemed to be enjoying yourself.”

You scoffed, hating his cockiness yet knowing that he was obviously right. “Don’t be a twat, Tommy.”

The ghost of a smile on his face, if you had blinked you might have missed it, but you were always the best person at reading him - the only person he had let close enough to see him, flaws and all. He always liked when you bickered with him, his little firecracker. He didn’t tolerate just anyone speaking to him the way you did, but he would let you get away with bloody murder and he couldn’t deny that it didn’t bring a flush to his cheeks when you got particularly feisty.

You opened your mouth to speak but he cut you off, his hands full with cutlery and plates filled with slap up breakfast foods, and you couldn’t deny that your mouth was watering.

“Eat first. We’ll talk later.”

You let out a sound halfway between a huff and a groan but caved in, clambering into the seat he had pulled open for you and piling your fork high. He watched you with a smile, the way you looked so young and pretty and angelic in the morning light, no makeup on and eyes still drowsy with sleep, like some kind of Renaissance painting he wanted to hang above his fireplace and stare at whenever things got rough.

He filled the silence with small talk, noting the weather and a story about one of John’s kids hiding a puppy in her room for almost a week without anyone noticing. You listened as best as you could, but you were distracted by the palomino mare you could see grazing in the fields behind his house, and something was prickling at your skin like brambles.

You cleared your throat, acting as nonchalant as you could muster. “Emma tells me that May Carlton is training your new mare.” Your knife sliced through your yolk, rich butter yellow bleeding across your plate. You tried to keep your voice steady, but you could feel the thickness in your throat as you remembered how it hurt like a bullet wound when your best friend had told you of his new associate. “I hear she is quite beautiful.”

“Yes, I suppose she is.” He murmured, cutting the edge of fat from his bacon. “But she’s nothing compared to you.”

You tried to pretend that his words didn’t make you swoon, and he tried to hide how much he loved it when you got jealous, something about the fire in your eyes making him want to push you up against a wall and kiss you till you couldn’t talk.

He paused, a coy smile on his lips. “Have you been keeping tabs on me?”

You scoffed. “Well, it’s only fair. What with all those Blinders following me. Can’t even go to the bloody shops without one watching me.”

So you had noticed. He had half been expecting a blazing call where you yelled at him for having men watch over you, and it had left a hole of disappointment in his gut when it never came.

“You know I would never let you be unprotected.”

“I know.”

Your eyes met, a wave of warm affection washed over the both of you, but you pulled your gaze back quickly, focusing your attention anywhere else.

“You should come and watch her.”

You froze, wondering if Tommy had just invited you to spend the day with May Carlton, you were sure that would be one evening that would end in blood and tears.

“The mare.” He said, picking up at your uncomfortableness and biting back a smile. “We’ve called her ‘Wicked Gypsy’, and she is brilliant. I reckon she could win the whole bloody thing.”

You liked how passionate he got when he talked about horses. Liked the way that he seemed to light up like a child, despite all the finery and bravado, you liked knowing that the little boy inside of him was still there, hidden deep, deep down, but still there. You were too busy being captivated by him that it took you a moment to realise that he had asked you to join him at the races.

You wanted nothing more, you truly wanted nothing more than to be his girl again. Cradled under his arm, dressed in lace and fur, his lips pressed to the heat of your throat, sweet little words whispered in your ear, a hand tight and possessive around your waist - but it just wasn’t that easy.

You sighed, crossing your cutlery. “Tom. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I want you there. I need my good luck charm.”

“Tommy, after everything. I don’t think we should.”

Firmer now, he looks at you, emphasising his point.“I need you there. When she wins, I need my best girl to be right by my side.”

He was so slippery. So sickly sweet that you could drown in him, struggle to move in the molasses that dripped from his tongue. He was dangerous, carnal fire and sin, but he wasn’t lying, he needed you, really fucking needed you.

You exhaled, thinking things through, and massaging the migraine brewing in your temples. He could see you trying to think of an excuse, another lie about how you’re bad for each other, but he got there first, not wanting to hear it.

“I’ll have a car pick you up on Friday.” He turned his hands so his palms were facing the ceiling, eyebrows raised playfully, “Or... maybe you can stay here the night. You know you’re welcome.”

Always so bloody charming. But you can’t stop the tsunami of thoughts, the mistakes of the past. “What is this, Tommy? What are we doing?”

“I fucked up. I never should have let you go.”

“But you did. And - I don’t want to get hurt all over again.”

“I won’t hurt you.”

“You always do.”

You words stung him worse than if you had slapped him across the face, and he had to take a moment to swallow the sour taste that had been swimming across his tongue. He reached his hands out, clasping them with yours, so large and warm and safe, and he spoke with intensity.

“Just - Come with me, Friday. Please. I can’t do this without you.”

Friday. Suddenly it was no longer about slipping up or falling back in love and wondering what your friends might think when you told them, it was about something else that you needed to tell him.

“I can’t.”

“You can’t? Why not?”

“I’m leaving.”

“Leaving? Leaving where?” His tone was one of disbelief, his eyes sizing you up, wondering if this was some kind of elaborate excuse.

You sighed, taking your hands away from under his, noticing the lack of warmth immediately. “To Oxford. Peggy transferred me to the company over there.”

“Why would she do that?”

“Because I asked her to.”

“You did what?”

You could see him thinking, wondering how none of his boys had found out this priceless piece of information that makes him want to throw his expensive fucking china at the wall.

“I did it all through work. Emma’s the only one who knew. I’m getting the train Wednesday night.”

He stood up so quickly his chair squealed across the wood floor, his mouth agape. “So what? You’re just going to leave?”

“There’s nothing here for me.”

He pointed one finger at you, scolding you like a child. “Don’t say that.”

You narrowed your eyes, shaking your head. “It’s true isn’t it? Why should I waste more time on this stupid cat and mouse game?”

“Is that all this is to you? A game?”

“You left me. For three months I was completely alone! What happens when something comes up, huh? How do I know that you won’t leave me all over again?” It was hard to keep the emotion from your voice, hard not to show just how badly the impact of those three months had been. “We need this! Some...some fucking space. Maybe being a few cities away will be good.”

It was a lie. Nothing sounded worse, but you had to say your piece because god knows you can’t keep holding everything in.

His voice was frayed, split like the hairs in an old rope. “Don’t. Don’t give me space. That’s the last thing I want from you.”

His words and his actions never lined up, and it made your blood boil. All of the anger you had turned into tears had remoulded into red hot rage, and you slammed your hands down on his expensive counter tops, flesh on marble ringing around the kitchen. “So then why did you let me go? Why did you tell me to leave?”

“Because I thought that was best for you!”

“You aren’t the one who gets to decide that!”

“Everything I do. Everything I fucking do - is to protect you.”

“Don’t say that. Protecting me isn’t making me leave, and then not speaking to me for three fucking months.”

You could see the click in his jaw, the vein in his throat throbbing. “You knew what you signed up for when you met me.”

“No, actually, I don’t think I did.”

It was true. You expected late nights, days of no contact, blood staining your bathroom counter and men watching your every move. You expected fights and make ups, going to the races in your finery and then walking down the shit filled streets of Small Heath, but you never expected that he would just leave you the way he did.

He was breathless, trying to control the rise and fall of his chest and the way that his fingers clenched. He never thought that you would leave, he had some fucked up feeling that you would always come back to him, that the two of you would always end up on the same ship, drifting along the same ocean. It was maddening. He had tasted you once again, had you under him, his girl reduced to putty in his hands. It had all made sense, the night seemed to be sweeter and the stars a little brighter and his lungs a little looser when you were next to him. It had all felt so right, and now you were going to leave.

He put it down to exasperation at not being in control anymore, the fact that he was watching you slip between his fingers once again like grains of sand, and so he said the worst thing he thought of, something that he knew would rip through you like a shot to the heart.

“Well at least I got one last fuck eh? That was all you were really any good for anyway.”

He could hear it immediately, the sound of the bullet leaving the gun, or perhaps that’s your heart shattering in two. He regretted it, he regretted it so badly that he wished he could pull the words back down his throat and swallow them like they were poison.

Your eyes watered but you didn’t let him see you cry. Your mouth opened and then closed not wanting to waste your breath on a reply, not wanting to hurt him the way he’d hurt you. You didn’t bother with a reply, not trusting yourself enough to talk, only wanting to be alone to like your wounds in peace. So you turned and left, last nights heels echoing through the hallway, the sound of the front door creaking open and slamming shut, silence falling once again.

Tommy pushed the plates off the table.

—————————————————————————-

Wednesday night and you were listening to your favourite record, something to distract you from the suitcase you were packing. Since the fight you hadn’t heard from Tommy, the first thing you’d packed had been your phone, pulling it off the wall as soon as you got home, not wanting to be on edge waiting for his call.

You didn’t allow yourself the time to wallow, refused to let yourself be beaten up by the words he had said, the ones that hung around your head like dead files. You hated that you let him speak to you that way, and you also hated that you missed him with every bone in your body.

Lilac, sapphire and emerald green. You threw your clothes together, watching the colours fade into a blur. You hadn’t packed anything he had given you, but you didn’t want to throw them out either and so they sat in a lonely purgatory in your wardrobe; a little gift to the next tenant.

You knew who was there the second the doorbell rang. Well, rang three times. The sound so shrill and violent that you tipped your head back in frustration. You considered leaving him outside in the summer rain, but soon the rings were switched with incessant knocking, your door surely about to break from the weight of his fists.

“Fucking hell.” You seethed, dropping your shoes onto the floor and stepping over the piles of toiletries stacked in the hallway. “Fuck you, Tom.”

You wanted to say those three words to him as soon as you opened the door, hoping your eyes reflected the anger bubbling inside of you, but he cut you off with a sigh of relief.

“Thank fuck you’re still here.”

“Not for long.”

You tried to shut the door, you really did, but he pushed past and into your flat with little effort.

“Get out, Tom. Now.”

He spun round to face you, and you finally got a good look at him. He looked rough, frazzled almost. His hair messy and his shirt ruffled and his eyes were mostly white, frantically watching your face.

“I fucked up. I fucked everything up.”

“You came all this way just to tell me that?”

“I should have followed you sooner. I should have followed you the second you walked through that door.”

You quirked an eyebrow in challenge. “Which time?”

He spread his hands out, biting down on his tongue. “Don’t go. Don’t leave.”

You sighed, kicking a stray shampoo bottle with your feet, something to fill the emptiness that surrounded you. “I’ve made up my mind.”

He moved one step closer and you moved one step back. “Is this what you really want?”

“We can’t always get what we want.”

“That’s bullshit.”

You threw your hands up in despair. “I’m not doing this with you now, Tommy. My train leaves in an hour and I have my first day tomorrow and I don’t want to fuck it all up.”

“If it’s what you really want, then you should go. But don’t leave if it’s all because of me.”

You scoffed. “Oh, don’t flatter yourself.”

“And I’m not going to let you go without telling you that I love you. I really fucking love you.”

“Tommy.” It’s a warning. It’s a threat. But it hangs between you both, lingering in the air like smoke.

“I know you love me too. I know you do. I also know that I’m a massive twat who fucked everything up, but I’m not letting you get away, not again.”

You're exasperated. His words like honey, but you’re scared that that’s all they are, and you’re more scared that they might be so much more. “Why should I believe anything you say?”

“Because I’m telling the truth. I don’t care about anything. Nothing matters to me more than you. I don’t care if Sabini has men outside my house every fucking night, you’re only safe with me, and I can only do this with you by my side.”

“Talk is cheap.”

“If I have to spend every day proving how much you mean to me then I will. I can’t - I can’t be without you.”

He was so close to you. Your noses almost touching, the hair on your arms and your spine sticking up, something electric about him. You want to hate him but you can’t. Not when he’s standing in your dimly lit hallway, looking dishevelled and beautiful and dare you say, broken. The edge of his jawline caught the light, shimmering like a jewel, and the pools in his eyes were so sincere and so deeply blue that you wanted to fall right into them.

Were you going to do this? Were you going to let him in again? You thought of everything - rain splattered kisses, dancing under the pale moonlight, sour whisky in the corner of his office. You thought of all of the chaos, all of the blood, all of the family arguments and shouting that echoed around his manor. You thought of all the tears you had shed, all the times your throat had been raw and your heart shattered into pieces. You thought of strawberry fields and his hand in yours, laughing with his brothers until you couldn’t breathe, the way that he felt and smelt and spoke like home.

It had been bad, but it was also the best thing you had ever been a part of.

You sighed loudly, clicking your tongue, meeting him somewhere in the middle. “Fuck. I’m never going to get my deposit back.”

His whole body trembled, relief coming from every pore, and he made a vow to go to Church with Pol on Sunday and thank whoever was listening for getting you back. “Well you’re moving in with me so there’s nothing to worry about.”

You rolled your eyes, his large hands wrapping around your jaw, making you look at him. He smelt like woodsmoke and peppermint, like a million bad decisions and the tang of a smoking barrel. It took everything in you to not buckle at the knees and let him carry you like a child.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” He cradled your face, hoping his words came off as strongly out loud as they did in his head. He’s not going to fuck up again, but even he can’t stop his brain from short circuiting at the sight of you, so pretty with your doe eyes and raspberry lips, the skin on your throat just begging for the tug of his teeth.

You buried your head in his chest when he pulled you close, your words muffled through the cotton of his shirt. “If you ever speak to me like that again I’ll rip your fucking balls off.”

A soft smile, one that washes over him like warm candlelight. “I know.”

He’s not letting you go, not again. You’re a fucking part of him, like the blood that runs through his veins and the steady thump of his chest, you’re a part of his body, the reason why he can breathe and run and love. You’re the thing that stops the tremor in his hands, the thing that makes him so unshakeable, so tough and in control.

He had something to fight for.

And only knowing that you’re by his side, safe and warm and pressed into the crook of his body, does he finally allow himself to exhale.

[hlcreators]

AUTHOR REC: haztobegood / @haztobegood

Don’t forget show some love by leaving kudos and comments!

to be so... (228)

Sex was the agreement; Harry’s heart was collateral.

The Problem (1.1k)

Harry's eyes fly open and he tosses the covers off, sitting up in bed. Looking at his crotch only confirms what he’d already known. His dick is missing!

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Love and Other Antidotes (16k)

Arrogant pop star Harry Styles is transformed into a cow by his bandmate Amy Z after a heated argument. Left in the back of a truck, Harry finds himself at a rural farm hours away from his band. Harry has three days to make it back to London and turn back into a human before his next show. His only chance to reclaim his glamorous life rests with a kind farmer named Louis. They must work together to find the antidote before Amy Z finishes him off and takes over the band.

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Ice Rink Chaos (500)

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To Wear Your Love (2.5k)

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A Seed from the Cherished Tree A Cloud from the Mighty Summit A Flower from the Perpetual Volcano A Pearl from the Perceptive Lake A Love across the Faery Realms

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The Trials were dangerous, deadly even. But for Harry, Louis would risk it all.

Through The Static (666)

Louis pranked the crew before a concert after he found a two-way radio in his dressing room. But messing with the radio had an unintended consequence.

Take on Me (60k)

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Backyard Outburst (500)

An argument while Harry and Louis are doing their fall yard work brings up an unexpected question.

Friday (2.9k)

Friday: Harry wraps up a stressful week.

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Thursday (1.5k)

Thursday: Louis can't find his stapler.

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Wednesday (1.3k)

Wednesday: Liam gets caught texting at work.

Nothing less than mischief is to be expected when Niall, Liam, Zayn, Louis, and Harry spend forty hours a week in corporate hell. Welcome to One Direction Financial - The Right Direction for Your Money.

Tuesday (1.2k)

Tuesday: Zayn has artist's block.

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Monday (1.4k)

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Harry nodded. “Yeah, but if the Church doesn’t accept me, how am I supposed to worship God?”

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Written for Prompt #127: The misgiving that the Catholic Church might turn out to be right about everything after all.

Garden Carnage (500)

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Or, the one where Louis can’t remember, Harry needs money, and Niall has a plan. An Overboard AU.

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Or the one where Harry flirts and Louis gets jealous, but it’s all part of their game.

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Niall lets out a loud laugh, “Hey, listen to this. You know how elections are Tuesday? It says the Babeland on the edge of campus is giving out free toys to the first 100 people that show their ‘I Voted’ sticker.”

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“I’m never gonna finish fixing this car. It’s taking so long and I am so sick of it. Why can’t it just be fixed already?” Louis grumbles. Harry puts a comforting hand on Louis’ arm.

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Or

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[fallingprincess]

Fallingprincess Masterlist

Updated: 23 February 2025

Everything Formula One related is on my AO3 (tap here) :)

All old Bohrap stuff is under the cut :)

Vampire!Ben

The Blood Series (Complete, ~34k words in total) Your first encounter with the underworld leaves you to find hot waves of color and leads you to fall right into Ben’s cold arms. To stay you have to take a gamble, but is the vampire worth the risk when the stake is your life?   Series Masterlist or individual chapters:

Bloody Hell

Blood Lust

Bleeding Through

Tears of Blood

For All My Bloody Life

*

Magical Creatures AU (individual Oneshots) You are a witch. Ben is a vampire. So is Joe. Gwilym is a demon. This has been going on for centuries.

She tied you to a kitchen chair

It’s not a crime that you’re here at night

And from your lips she drew the...fuck  

Glitter Blood (Fairy!reader x Vampire!Ben)

Bloody Cocktails

offer me my deathless death (Demon!Gwil x Witch!reader)

*

Monsters (Vampire!reader x Human!Ben Oneshot , 4.5k) You are a vampire, Ben is not. When you find him sneaking around on your property you decide to have your fun with him. However, the outcome is different than you had expected.

Ben Hardy - Oneshots

Bruises (Oneshot, 1.1k) Ben and you are shooting a rather raunchy make-out scene. He is scared of hurting you until you tell him to stop worrying about it.

*

Timing (Oneshot, 5k) The six times you have sex with your best friend Ben.

*

First Kiss Series (11 Oneshots currently, more tba) A collection of independent oneshots of first kisses shared with Ben.

*

Home. (Oneshot, 5k) Best friends to lovers. So fluffy it will melt your heart.

*

Killing It (Oneshot, 2.4k) Ben gets you pregnant. You get an abortion. Ben is not happy about it.

Ben Hardy - Series

Temptation (Poly!Hardzello x reader, WIP, SMUT) After a strange chain of events you find yourself in a poly relationship with Joe and Ben. part 1 // part 2 // part 3 // part 4 // part 5

*

And they were roommates (complete, ~25k words in total) After working on a movie together Ben and you become friends with benefits, then roommates. Somewhere along the line you fall in love, but you both suck at talking about feelings. Happy ending :)

*

The Drunken Kisses (Complete, ~12k words in total) Ben and you share the hottest kisses when you are drunk (from what you remember), but sober it just isn’t the same. ** One // Two // Three // Four // Five

*

Save You (Complete, ~35k words in total)

Due to Ben’s anxiety issues (that he absolutely insists on not having) his management provides him with a bodyguard for his two week press tour in the US. You. At first Ben is very much opposed but as the days go by his attitude towards you changes. However, there is a fine line between professionalism and getting closer to him and you are desperately trying to dance on top of it. ** One // Two // Three // Four // Five // Six // Seven // Eight // Nine // Ten // Eleven // Twelve // Thirteen

Roger Taylor

The world that we created (WIP, on hiatus) You were a student designing a time travel device. You were not supposed to meet Roger in 1975. You were not supposed to fall in love with him. And you were definitely not supposed to go back.

*

I know why and so do you (Oneshot) Roger and you are both alone on Valentine’s Day and decide to hang-out. You are friends after all. It shouldn’t be this tension filled really..

Other works

Practise (Rami Malek x reader Oneshot)

Spiced Christmas (Gwilym Lee x reader Oneshot)

Peanut Butter Jelly (Ben x Joe x reader Oneshot)

Seven Minutes In Heaven (Joe Mazzello x reader Oneshot)

Meant to go this way (Joe Mazzello x reader Oneshot)

A Pleasure to have around (male celebrity x reader Oneshot)

Drabbles (Link)

[wintaejk]

Jungkook’s FIC REC | OS 2

I had too many links on the other post. Here is the second part of my Jungkook’s fic rec but with others themes.

Again, all those fictions belong to the amazing authors who wrote them, not me. I want to thank them once more. 

(f) = fluff

(a) = angst

(m) = mature

magical au

— Trick or Treat: Howling for You (F) (M) — by @fortunexkookie​

The way your Little Red Riding Hood costume lured over a fuckboy in a half-assed werewolf costume was a little cliche, but god damn was he beautiful. He promised he had plenty of big things to show you, and you took him up on the offer, not realizing that you might’ve bitten off more than you could chew.

werewolf au | established relationship | +14k

— rottenfolk (M) — by @junqkook​

a look was as hazardous as chemicals, a kiss as perilous as poison; his eyes and lips felt akin to a cure, but he was purely venom.

faerie au | royalty au | +13k

Commentary - If there’s only one one-shot I could recommend you to read of all tumblr, it would probably be this one. For me, it is rare to acheive such a level of mastery in fantasy fictions. Writing is already complicated, but when you have to place the readers in an unknown universe, it is even harder.                         However, the real brilliance of this story is the end. Because the end is supposed to satiate the reader in a way or another, it is supposed to offer what all the reader craved: a sort of closure. But here we all are, waiting for a sequel, because this story will make you want a next episode. And that is the brilliance, because you will surely never forget a story with that kind of power.                         So those are some of the reasons why this fiction is for me a mix of art, smartness and excellence ; and also why you would be missing something huge by not reading it.

— overdrive (M) — by @junqkook​

you thought meeting jungkook was just a coincidence, but the universe didn’t deal in coincidences.

vampire au | soulmate au | enemies to lovers | +13k

— Crescent Bound - Jungkook (F) (M) — by @parkhabits​

A pact bound by the moon. A secret kept only amongst themselves. Each of them experiencing their own cycles of heat.

werewolf au | friends to lovers | +12k

— Room 109 (M) — by @lavishedinjimin​

Having Jungkook as your apartment buddy was a lot to get used to. But with one early day, your heat comes up much stronger than usual, and you were desperate for an alpha’s touch.

werewolf au | roommate au | alpha!jungkook | +6k

— after dark (M) — by @seokoloqy​

Jungkook has served the royal family for generations, seen them live and die countless times. When it comes to you, he can’t watch you wither away too, but your lust for one another makes it harder and harder to stay apart.

vampire au | royalty au | knight!jungkook | +8k

— Life’s Blood (F) (A) (M) — by @littlenoona​

You produce blood cells at an increased rate when blood is lost, effectively, you cannot bleed out. This ability has served you well so far, even gaining you a rare friend, and you’ve made it your source of income, but it also has its downsides, one of which you’ve managed to avoid successfully, until now.

vampire au | +13k

— you come in waves (A) (M) — by @angelguk​

if jeongguk had a choice, he would destroy the sun. it’s not like he needed it for warmth due to his werewolf abilities making him a scorching radiator. it would also help his heart. because you look delectable in that stupid bikini.

werewolf au | friends to lovers au | 4k

— tell me your secrets (i’m all ears) (F) — by @jinpire​

You’re not afraid of Jeon Jeongguk. Even if he’s probably some kind of bear or giant cat shifter, and just a hint of his irritation had your instincts vibrating beneath your skin like a live wire. Your thumb brushed over the plastic dome of mini-Levi’s head, taking comfort in the cartoon scowl and dead eyes, the tiny grey sticks of his 3DM gear. Small could be pretty fucking powerful too.

shifter au | college au | bunny!kook | +6k

drabbles: nooks and naps - foxie moxie (don’t pull my tail) - look before you leap  - fluffles and kerfuffles

— Pomegranate Seeds (M) — by @taetaebaepsae​

Jungkook thinks he’s found the perfect new roommate, but little doesn’t he know you’re just aching to corrupt him.

demon au | roommate au | virgin!jungkook | +4k

other themes

— Every Kind of Way (F) (M) — by @taehyungforreal​

{Three little vignettes, three completely different experiences, same perfectly wonderful boyfriend JK.}

strangers to lovers  | established relationship  | +14k

Commentary - I remember when this fiction was posted. I read the teaser a few days before, and I was waiting for it. I remember the exact date of the release of this story, and let me tell you it never happens to me. But this is how much I liked this story. This masterpiece.                         This fiction is 95% made of smut. This is a warning if you don’t like that. However, what I like about Ashley’s works is that smut is not only smut (okay, sometimes it’s just pure filth but whatever). It’s not the first time I’ve read a piece of work of her and that I’ve been so thankful of reading her. Because the stories she writes are realistic. Sex is not always perfect. Sex is not always like in porn. Sex can be embarrassing. And this is why I love what Ashley writes, because she always have that realistic point of view on life. And sometimes it’s also nice to not turn everything into porn.                          What is very likeable - I said likeable? I meant loveable, sorry - about that story is also the three different stages of the relation of Jk and reader. This is also something I like about her writings. Life evolves, relationships evolve, and so does sex. So in this story, you will experience three different Jungkook. And it’s three reasons why you should read this fiction, three reasons why you will probably love it.                          One thing is sure, this chef-d’oeuvre will leave you wondering if your eyes have been burnt by the smuttiness or blessed by all the talent of this writer.

— tattooed two (ft. kth) (F) (M) — by @httpjeon​

your boyfriend’s best friend joins you for a night you’ll never forget.

tattoo artist au | established relationship  | poly au  | +8k

— Inkling (A) (M) — by @gguksgalaxy​

Jungkook is your brother’s boyfriend’s co-worker, they own a tattoo and piercing parlour. In other words, he’s tall, gorgeous, has his passion literally etched into his skin, looks incredibly good in a man-bun, and is semi-unattainable for you. Why? Well…you’re not entirely sure but him ditching right after a very heated make-out session sure isn’t a good sign. His extremely poor mood the next week sure isn’t either, but the only way to fix it is to face the beast head-on. Right?

tattoo artist au  | +17k

— Freak-quency (M) — by @taehyungforreal​

His eyes sparkle and he fights back a smile when he asks you why. “Is it because I didn’t give you something else to swallow like I said I would,” he questions, halfway through a much less subtle adjustment of his growing erection. Yoongi was right, he wants to be in trouble.

rockstar au  | established relationship  | +8k

— Boots (M) —

3000+ words of Ashley kinking on Jungkook’s boot. That’s it.

rockstar au  | established relationship  | part of Freak-quency  | +3k

— Heartbreaker with a Heart of Gold (A) (M) — by @filmflowersbangtan​

It was around this time almost three years ago when Jungkook moved to LA after his band got signed to a famous record label. He told you that he’d keep in contact with you. That he’d visit as much as he could. That he loved you. But about a month after leaving, he stopped texting and calling as much. And then a mere week after the band’s first EP dropped, Burning Rabbit was a sensation.

rocksatr au | ex lovers  | +3k

— Brother’s best friend (M) — by @lavishedinjimin​

In which Y/n owns a smut blog dedicated to her crush and brother’s best friend, jungkook. it was all fun and games until he finds out about it and acts it out with you.

brother’s best friend!jungkook  | +5k

— Sugarplum Elegy (F) (A) (M) — by @bymoonchild​

You know no bounds nor depth with Jungkook. While your fuck buddy loves sleeping in your bed and doing laundry for you with his favourite fabric softener, you are in love with a mysterious honeyed, velvety voice on Soundcloud. All’s fine, until you find out that the voice that metaphors your heart to a sweet sugarplum melody actually belongs to the boy who has been taking up a special spot in your bed and in your heart, strumming at your heartstrings all this while.

friends with benefits  | college au  | idiots to lovers | +17k

— The Kids Aren’t Alright (F) (A) (M) — by @sketchguk​

Sneaking around with Jeongguk during your Christian retreat is complicated when you’re both dedicated to your jobs as co-youth group counselors at your father’s ministry.

friends with benefits  | pastor’s kid!reader  | +10k

— Gym (F) (M) — by @hobiwonder​

Jungkook has a crush on you and has been watching you work out at his gym. One day you finally confront his obvious crush.

business woman!reader  | fratboy!jungkook  | older reader | +8k

— Gravity Check (M) — by @gimmesumsuga​

The one where Jungkook is your oh-so-handsome climbing instructor.

climbing instructors!jungkook  | strangers to lovers  | 14k

— The Monogamy Monologues (F) (M) — by @kpopfanfictrash​

The year? Some point after college. The occasion? Namjoon is getting married and the Rich Man’s Crochet Club has convened once again. Somewhere between the drinks and the laughter, everyone has the same realization: Jungkook has never been in a serious relationship. In the name of all that is holy (Overwatch and booze), the club’s mission is revived. Now though, their goal is much more perilous. Now, they aim to find Jeon Jungkook a girlfriend. (Part of The Rich Man’s Crochet Club series)

fuckboy!jungkook  | wedding planner!reader  | strangers to lovers  | +42k

— The Virgin Volume (F) (A) (M) —

This fic exists in the RMCC universe. It takes place before RMCC and is the story of how Jungkook lost his virginity. To quote Seokjin/Namjoon: “What Jungkook doesn’t know won’t hurt him and – let’s be honest – his story is hilarious. One pump,” Seokjin laughs, sounding like a hyena. “One pump and he’s done.” // Ducking his head, Namjoon tries not to smile. “It was a rookie mistake,” he protests, defending their friend. “Jungkook was overexcited and couldn’t control himself. He got better.”

college au  | friends to lovers  | prequel to TMM  | +6k

— everlasting (A — by @kimvvantae​

being able to love the same person forever is a blessing given from the heavens. to you, however, eternity has become a curse.

reincarnation au  | 18k

— Performances (M) — by @littlenoona​

The same handsome guy has been appearing at your performances and you become more and more interested in who he is - now you’re dancing only for him, despite a hall full of people.

strangers to lovers  | professional dancer!reader  | +6k

— Matching Hearts (F) (A) — by @gukwluv​

a drunk call to your ex boyfriend leads to a night of fun adventures that make you wonder why you even split in the first place.

exes au | +3k

— locker room talk (M) — by @minnpd​

You end up having a rather heated talk with Jeon Jungkook in the locker room when he announces he has been chosen for the audition you both participated to.

dancer au | enemies to lovers | fuckboy!jungkook | +5k

— not quite lovers (M) — by @junqkook​

hiring jeon jungkook as your personal assistant happens to have more than one perk.

workplace au | friends with benefits | ceo!reader | +15k

— By Its Cover (M) — by @gimmesumsuga​

The one where Jungkook makes a very bad first impression.

workplace au | enemies to lovers | 21k

— Mind in the Gutter (F) (M) — by @kpopfanfictrash​

Starting over is never fun. Especially not when you decide to take the phrase fully to heart; new job, new city, new coworkers and new relationships. When you are dragged to a happy hour by your new co-worker, Taehyung, you end up sitting beside a (very) cute, (very) shy IT worker named Jungkook. Several drinks later, he mentions he is in a professional bowling league with his friends and you rather enthusiastically invite yourself along. As time passes and you begin to grow closer, you still find it impossible to read Jungkook. Working in the same company and seeing each other so often, it is only so long before one of you snaps. But who?

workplace au | bowling au | strangers to friends to lovers | +18k

[leafenclaw]

For the “Ask questions about my WIPs!” game

@inkstainedfingers97 asked:

“Perchance would you be willing to send me a brief summary of the premises of "Gem" and "Fearful Symmetry" ?”

First of all, thank you for asking! ^^

Gem is actually one of my earliest Mentalist works, one of several character studies I wrote in preparation for another story called Visions (which I was supposed to go back to right after Chasing Storms, but then Kindred happened x3). The concept was quite simple, a long drabble in which Lisbon was pondering all the ways Jane reminds her of a diamond (the dazzling smiles, flashy tricks, cutting edges of his personality, the fatal flaw at heart, etc.). That said, 400-ish words in I realised I was pushing that metaphor just a little bit too far? XD So unless I recycle parts of it for Kindred at some point (perhaps for 2x09, with that subplot about a diamond Jane lost in the bullpen? ^^), it’ll probably never see the light of day and to be honest I’m pretty okay with that. x)

Fearful Symmetry is a different animal entirely. I don’t know if you remember 2x10 well, it’s the episode where Jane gets hit by a baseball and gets a concussion, so he spends the whole episode fainting and having intrusive memories of his father? And in one of those memories, you see him and his father conning an old lady and her dying granddaughter. For some reason as I was watching I started thinking on that kid, wondering what would happen to her if she survived after this. Would she think the crystal really saved her, or would she know it’s a con and resent the Janes for it? I followed those thoughts for a while, got mislaid by a few Shakespeare references, and ended up with a story in which Celia (the dying girl) is Red John, because the application of the crystal nearly killed her and she wants revenge on the boy who lied to her. x)

It’s not a happy story. Written in 2nd person from the POV of an extremely unreliable narrator, it’s meant to be an illustration of how a healthy mind can sink into really unhealthy thought patterns because of a single event, how holding onto hate and a desire for revenge usually ends up poisoning your own life, and (as the title implies) it was also meant to be a commentary on thematic parallels between Jane and Red John, how similar they are, how you just need to fill in a few blanks to realise they have the same nature.

Anyway. x) It was SUPER cathartic to write and I was all set to publish as soon as it was done... until a computer mishap ate half my progress (more than 5k gone, I had almost 12k by then), including a scene I struggled a lot on, so it never recovered. I’m still keeping that one on the back-burner though, it’s one of ten stories across all my fandoms that I definitely intend to come back to and complete.

Excerpt under cut. Trigger warnings for obsessive thoughts of hatred and revenge, graphic descriptions of pain, some internalised ableism, and violent rejection of morals and religion. (There may be other things, as I said it’s not a happy story.)

(Feel free to comment but please don’t reblog.)

*****

Fearful Symmetry

*****

"Breathe," says your grandmother softly.

And you do, one laborious inhalation after the other, even as the wet, squelching sound makes you shiver, and the pain tears you apart. You do, and you clutch the crystal against your chest – because it will help, won't it? It must. Your grandmother says so, and the Carney man at the fair said so, and the boy. The boy said so. The beautiful boy who cried for you, with the golden curls that makes you want to giggle and sigh and feel their softness under your fingers. He said so.

"Breathe," repeats your grandmother, and you do – again and again and again and why isn't it working?

"I'm sorry to tell you, ma'am. You were robbed," says the doctor, shaking his head. "Crystals aren't magic. They can't heal anything."

But neither you nor your grandmother will listen to those lies, because you saw it. You saw the blister on the boy's finger heal with your own two eyes. How is that not magic? So you breathe, and breathe again, and cough up phlegm until even your grandmother pales and shakes her head.

*****

"What if – " you ask, then cough some more. "What if it needs to be inside?"

"Direct application," whispers your grandmother, eyes feverish. "Yes! We could put it in your oxygen tank – that should work. It will work, Celia. I promise."

Of course, no doctor will allow her to put a foreign object in your oxygen tank, not even a magic healing crystal that could save you. You should have known. They never took you seriously, even in the beginning. That's why the cancer was allowed to spread so far.

But you and your grandmother know what you're doing. You've seen it work. And when it does, when you're healed, you will walk back to the county fair on your own feet and kiss that boy right on his generous mouth to thank him for everything he did.

One day. If you dare. You need to heal first, for that to happen.

So you and your grandmother talk about it, and come to a decision.

Forget about the doctors.

Trust in the crystal.

Trust in the boy.

"Keep your eyes closed," whispers your grandmother, a handful of carefully grounded crystal in her palm. "I will blow it toward you. And when I say so, take a deep breath, as deep as you can. Are you ready?"

You nod.

"Now!"

You open your mouth wide and breathe, and cough, and open your eyes because it hurts so much, and dust flies in your eyes and your mouth is burning, your eyes are burning, your lungs, NO, burning scratching burning bleeding leaking painpainpain –

You scream.

*****

"What were you thinking!" bellows the doctor, somewhere on the other side of the door.

Your grandmother is crying, all hysterical sobs and blubbering mess, incoherent words of desolation falling out of her mouth like a waterfall. You want to tell her it's not her fault – it's not her fault, it's the boy's. The lying boy with his lying tears and those lying curls of shining gold you still want to feel under your fingers, except now you want to feel his lying throat bobbing up and down as you squeeze it just as much.

You want to tell her, but they hooked you up to your oxygen tank and you can't say a word, and you can't reach out to her either because you can't see with all those bandages covering your eyes.

Can’t, can’t, can’t do anything, anything at all.

"It's a miracle it didn't kill her on the spot!" yells the doctor again.

You can hear the angry breath he takes and releases, almost covering your grandmother's cries.

"Your crystal dust buried itself in the tissues, scarred her lungs and cornea," the doctor adds, so quietly you have to strain your ears to hear him speak. "If she was to live, it would be a miracle for her to escape pneumonia and infections. But as it is..."

You shouldn't be listening to this. But you do, you do even if you're not supposed to, even if you're supposed to be sleeping, and resting, and recovering. That's what they told you to do, anyway. Rest, and don't bother your pretty little head with grown-up talk.

Rest.

Rest in peace.

"Her last days will be painful," concludes the doctor. "Dying will be a kindness."

Your grandmother's wail covers every other sound.

The pang of shock in your mind covers every other thought.

Until shock turns to helplessness.

Then anger.

Then hate.

*****

You lie on your back, eyes closed as the priest anoints your forehead with oil, muttering blessings for your soul. Your grandmother cries softly by your bedside as you take one painful inhalation after the other. They've all given you for dead already, talking about you in past tense, hushed murmurs and sniffles in every corner of the room.

You don't care.

You're such a raw mass of unending pain. Nothing else matters but the burning in your lungs and the fever in your eyes and the pounding in your head that erases all ideas, all thoughts, all emotions.

Except one.

And the growing thirst for revenge sustains you in a way nothing else – no medicine, no prayer, no crystal – ever could.

*****

You never knew there was an emotion so powerful as to conjure up miracles – but if you had, you would have bet on love.

And you would have been wrong.

Love, in the end, wasn't enough to save you. Be it the love of God with its many prayers all through the night, or the love of Science on the altar of which you sacrificed your hair – both utterly failed you. Even the love of your grandmother only brought you worse suffering instead of the promised peace and relief.

Love wasn't enough.

But hate is.

Hate allows you to survive night after night until a full month passes. Hate allows you to hang on by a thread until breathing comes easier, until pain ceases. So slowly at first nobody notices you healing. So slowly at first you don't even notice it yourself.

Until you do.

Until they do.

"It's a miracle. Praises be to God," says the priest, and you want to tell him to shut up shut up shut up, because there is no miracle, there is no God, there is only hate burning bright and hot inside you, turning the cancer to cinders and coal dust.

"It was the crystal. It gave her back her life," says your grandmother, and you want to tell her to shut up shut up shut up, because the crystal nearly killed you, the crystal scratched your eyes away and even hate couldn't give you back your sight.

"It was the treatment. In a few months, we may be able to graft her a new cornea," says the doctor, and you want to tell him to shut up shut up shut up, because the medicine was never helpful to begin with, they didn't even bother treating your eye infection properly when they thought you were dying, and when you finally get out of here you will never trust a doctor again.

But you don't say a word – because you may be healed but you're still weak, and arguing over what exactly saved you would be a waste of time, a waste of energy. Instead you let hate eat away at any warm emotion you once felt, shield your mind with its cold, hard shell of frozen magma.

Who cares what they all think anyway? You know the truth, and at night you dream of a thousand humiliations and pains for the boy who grievously betrayed you.

[andithiel]

New fic: Constellation Prize

Okay so originally this was supposed to be an angsty little drabble based on a song, just one scene with Harry pining for Draco basically. But of course it turned on me and demanded I resolve it, and while I was at it I had to add a little background and here we are, six months and 12k words later (I know it’s a long time for not a really long fic, but I’m slow, okay?). 

Thanks to the ever amazing @kristinabrd for bullying me into encouraging me to finish this fic and the beta, also thanks to the lovely @wo2ash for the britpick and additional beta and encouragement. Love you guys!

Also tagging @unicornsandphoenix who squealed at me when I posted a snippet of this ages ago, and @keyflight790 for her love of pining!Harry, and @drarryruinedme7 for accusing me of having great ideas.

Title: Constellation Prize Author: Andithiel Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Word count: 12k Rating: Explicit Content: EWE, Friends to lovers, Auror partners, Pining, Mutual Pining, Jealous Harry, Oblivious Harry, Ginny Weasley is a good friend, UST, RST, Top Draco Malfoy, Bottom Harry Potter, Implied Switching, Bad pun Summary: Harry’s been pining for his friend and Auror partner for almost a year. But despite what his friends say, he and Draco aren't an old married couple...Draco has a boyfriend, there's no way he'd ever be interested. Right? Excerpt: “Another game of this?” Draco drawled as he came to stand beside Harry. There were snowflakes caught in his eyelashes. Trying to keep from reaching out and brushing them off, Harry huffed, embarrassed.

“Er, yeah, they’re sort of betting on me now,” he said, pulling at his ear.

“Fascinating,” Draco said as he slid down on a chair by the bar, beckoning the bartender over to order.

“Malfoy! I haven’t seen you in ages! You wanna bet this round?” Seamus said with an exaggerated wave.

“Oh, no no, I’ll just take this opportunity to continue my anthropological studies of Gryffindors,” Draco said, fishing a self inking quill and a scrap of parchment from his inner pocket. ”Granted, I don’t have much time, but one must seize the opportunity when presented, especially when one finds their subjects in their natural habitat.”

Harry laughed.

“Oh, I guess it’s much more fancy to bet on horses or quidditch matches or wizarding duels, right?” he said, bumping Draco’s shoulder with his own.

“Well,” Draco sniffed, “at least those have some taste and skill involved.”

“Malfoy!” Ron said, appearing at Draco’s other side and slinging an arm around his shoulder. “To what do us lowly commoners owe the honor?”

“Weasley,” Draco said with dignity. “If you must know, I’m meeting Sebastian here in ten minutes.”

Harry’s heart sank. Of course. Fucking Sebastian.

“Hey, Malfoy, tell me something,” Ron said and Harry knew instinctively that whatever Ron was about to say couldn’t be good. “Why are you with that stuck up prick Sebastian when you would be so much better off with Harry?

”Draco choked on his drink and spluttered.

“Ron!” Harry said with the fakest laugh he could muster. “You know Draco and I are just friends!”

Draco didn’t say anything, he was still wheezing.

“I mean, could you imagine the disaster if we were together? We’d probably end up killing each other!” Harry continued, trying to sound amused while Draco stared at him with a blank expression.

Ron was leaning against the bar on one elbow, a bottle of beer in his other hand.

“I dunno, mate, you haven’t killed each other yet in the three years you’ve been partnered. And you already sound like an old married couple, so—.”

“Ron! There you are!” Ginny had appeared out of nowhere and was yanking Ron’s arm. “You have to defend the Weasley honor, Seamus says he can beat you anytime at Wizard’s chess!”

“He bloody well can’t!”

“Well, then come prove him wrong,” Ginny said before dragging Ron with her. She turned her head towards Harry, miming You owe me one, and Harry gave her a smile in thanks.

Read on AO3

[lavenderlattaes]

smitten. | min yoongi

⇒ summary: Min Yoongi had been your best friend for as long as you can remember, and he loves spoiling you rotten. Yoongi loves you more than he probably loves his Audi but you’re not so sure about that, yet. Until your friends start pointing it out to the two of you.

⇒ [college! au, rich kid! au, friends to lovers! au]

⇒ pairing: min yoongi x reader

⇒ word count: 12.9k words

⇒ genre: tooth-aching fluff, I suppose and,,, would u consider this slowburn

⇒ warnings: curse words, 12k words of word vomit lmao, and it’s too sweet for diabetic peeps sksk

⇒ note: hello, tumblr. It’s been a while, lmao. This fic wasn’t supposed to be this long, it was supposed to be a drabble idk what happened. ignore mistakes bc im a bit of a blind bat and enjoy!  ＼ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ／

You push the car door open, and your beaten-up white Converse hits the gravel as you get out of the car. You close the car door shut behind you, slinging your backpack on your shoulders as you squint up at the massive school buildings standing gloriously underneath the early summer sun. You hear the trunk open and the sound of suitcases hitting the ground snaps you from your daze. You turn around and see your best friend Yoongi unloading your suitcases.

“Oh, sorry!” You apologize, running over to him as you help him unload your suitcases. Yoongi takes his largest suitcase out last, slamming the trunk of his Audi shut, wiping the sweat trickling down his forehead with his forearm. You sigh and pull out your hanky from your pocket as you cup his cheek and wipe the sweat.

“You know that there’s things called towels and handkerchiefs, right? You should know that, you can probably buy an entire department store of it,” you tell him as you finish wiping his face and proceed to fixing his hair.

Yoongi just chuckles as he stuffs his hands in his pockets. You just smile as you finish fixing his hair. If it were some other person, Yoongi wouldn’t have let them touch his hair, but you were Y/L/N Y/N, his best friend, and he loves you a whole fucking lot.

Yoongi takes two of his suitcases in his right hand and holds your hand in his left. You take your suitcases in your left too, and he leads you to the main building where you’ll be getting your dorm keys.

“Are you nervous?” Yoongi leans toward you slightly, noticing your clammy hand as you approach the building and pass by a lot of students. Your shyness tends to resurface in the presence of a lot of people and you were thankful that your best friend was calm, collected, and cool to help you get through it all, ever since you were in high school.

Just as you reach the steps, you hear the familiar loud voices of your other three friends behind you.

“I’m telling you, Hobi, she was looking at ME! I mean, who wouldn’t? I’m obviously the ten out of the three of us here, you and Joon are eights,” the windshield wiper laugh of Kim Seokjin soon follows after his statement, and you and Yoongi turn around to see your friends, Jung Hoseok, Kim Seokjin, and his cousin Kim Namjoon, carrying their own things. Hoseok and Seokjin were both in a very intense conversation about a girl who, according to Seokjin, had the hots for him, despite Hoseok insisting that she was only looking at him because of the amount of pink in his arms. Namjoon, who was shaking his head at his cousin and his other slightly naïve friend, spots you and Yoongi first.

“Hey, Y/N and Yoongi are already here!” He slaps the broad-shouldered guy besides him, who stops talking Hoseok’s ear off before he quickens his pace to greet the two of you. Seokjin and Hoseok follow right behind him. Yoongi lets go of your hand so he can do their handshake, and the boys give you hugs.

“I didn’t think we’d all arrive at around the same time, Seokjin was taking forever,” Hoseok brings up and the boy beside him whips his head to cry out a complaint.

“YAH! I forgot to bring RJ, he was relaxing on my bed and didn’t call out to me, I was starting to think he really didn’t want to come with,” Seokjin hoists the huge, alpaca stuffed toy up higher.

Yoongi rolls his eyes at them. “Whatever. Let’s just go inside and get our keys and room assignments.” The boys nod and Yoongi takes your hand again, leading the way inside.

You twist the doorknob, and take a peek inside the plain, white room that will ultimately be your new home for the next four years. You step inside fully, pulling your suitcase along behind you. You bring it over to the side and Yoongi follows right behind you, carrying a few of your other things.

“I don’t understand why you didn’t get a roommate, won’t you be scared of sleeping in a room alone?” Yoongi speaks up, his eyes roaming around the room. You sit down on the bed opposite the one you’ve chosen to sleep on as Yoongi closes the door behind him. Your friends were all busy unpacking and while you told Yoongi to do the same too, he insisted on accompanying you to your room, saying he “wanted to make sure my best friend felt comfy in her new room”.

You laugh. “Yoongi, I sleep alone at home, remember?” You pull your legs up, folding them underneath you. Yoongi gives you a look. “You know what I mean. College life is stressful and scary, Y/N. Are you ready to face all of that alone?” Yoongi stresses out, making you snort.

“I’m having my classes in lecture halls, Yoongi. Not my dorm room. Besides, Joon and I share most of the same classes together, so I’m not completely alone. Plus, you talk as if I won’t see you and the others everyday.” You point out, and Yoongi nods and shrugs, getting your point.

He stands up and walks over to sit beside you. You twist your body to look at him and he looks at you, sighing, as he pulls your head in close, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. You smile softly at his gentle action, reaching forward to wrap your arms around his waist.

“Promise me you won’t die before the end of the first semester,” Yoongi whispers and you laugh, punching his stomach lightly. “Tell that to yourself, Min.”

Yoongi starts playing some of his songs while he helps you unpack. You talk occasionally but focus on getting the work done first so you can hang out with the other boys.

Min Yoongi had been your best friend from pretty much the moment you were conceived. Your parents – both moms and dads – were college buddies. They were the literal definition of friendship goals. Yoongi was a year older than you, but ever since you were both born, your parents always made the two of you bond together. Yoongi’s older brother hung out with your older brother, but they weren’t as close as you and Yoongi. When you were born, of course Yoongi’s family came to visit you and your mom at the hospital. Yoongi was barely two years old, but the moment his eyes fell on you, he fell in love. You were adorable and Yoongi already wanted someone to protect at such a young age. Yoongi was smitten for you the moment you were born. So, when you were a few months older, your parents organized play dates for the two of you already. Most of the time, you hung out at Yoongi’s place. His house was larger than yours by about two floors, so you had more playing space.

Yoongi was absolutely smitten for you – whatever it was that you wanted, for as long as you both could remember, Yoongi would hand it to you on a silver platter. You remember when you were both around six years old - you wanted to have his stuffed toy poodle, and even though it was Yoongi’s favorite stuffed toy, he didn’t hesitate to give it to you. No matter though, because years later, Yoongi bought an actual toy poodle that he named Holly.

Growing up, you were the loud, outgoing one, while Yoongi was on the quieter side. It wasn’t until high school when you became good friends with Hoseok, Seokjin, and his cousin Namjoon that Yoongi started breaking out of his shell. Hoseok and Seokjin were especially loud and they always made Yoongi laugh. Namjoon was loud too, but because the boy had a thing for destroying things in his path, he chose to be quieter so he wouldn’t attract too much attention from being so loud and breaking everything along the way. It was also in high school when you started to get shy – you were faced with the reality that you were a teenager already and that soon enough, you’d have to face the world without Yoongi by your side. Everything was starting to overwhelm you, so you turned to writing pieces of literary work. You thought back then that you’d end up alone, but you found yourself hitting it off really well with Namjoon, comparing famous literary works, writing your own pieces, and asking for constructive criticism from one another.

Your fun, lovable group of five stayed together all of high school, and now up until college. You were all so excited and happy to get accepted into the same art university, a three hour drive away from home. You’re taking up creative writing with Namjoon, Hoseok will take up dance, Seokjin with theatre, and Yoongi with music, majoring in piano.

In the middle of a Halsey song, Yoongi breaks your line of thought (which was just you singing along to Roman Holiday, anyway). 

“Hey, do you wanna go get some food with the guys? They’re downstairs.” You fix your ponytail and nod, smiling.

“Sure, I’m starving anyway.” Yoongi ruffles your head and grabs his stuff while you do the same. 

“Come on, it’s my treat.” Yoongi opens your door and lets you go out first. 

“It’s always your treat, Yoongi. When was it not?” Yoongi laughs at that. “True.”

“Make sure to turn them in before the end of next week, okay? I’ll be expecting a lot from you all; you seem like such a promising batch of writers,” Professor Bang says, making you and the rest of the class respond with “yes” and “okay”, just before you stand up to leave.

“Have you thought about what to write for your essay, Y/N?” Namjoon asks you as you both make your way outside the lecture hall along with the other students. 

You purse your lips in thought. Professor Bang wanted to start off the semester by making you write about anything that you were comfortable with. He wanted you to show him the things that you were concerned about, the things that were close to you, and you wanted to make sure you left a lasting impression in his class. Professor Bang was someone you could see yourself remembering for a long time, even if the seasons have changed and the days have gone by. He knew how to teach, not because he was smart, but because he was inspired, because he loves what he’s doing, and he wants to share that with students like you and Namjoon. He was a jolly person, but he also wanted to push you to your limits, something you’ve noticed during the hour and a half class with him that morning.

“Hm, I don’t really know yet. Maybe something about transitioning from being a teenager to an adult, the ups and downs that come along with it, the rush of it all. How about you?” You look up at the tall guy beside you, and he pushes his glasses higher up the bridge of his nose.

“I want to write something about self-love, about what it means to love yourself, despite your flaws and imperfections.” You smile; Namjoon has always been the smartest in your group, always contemplating about things. He had a habit of thinking things through properly, instead of making rash or impulsive decisions.

“Professor Bang makes me want to wear my heart on my sleeve and I don’t know why. He’s that kind of teacher that you want to impress and show all your best sides to, but at the same time, you want to show him all your worst points too, because you know he won’t hold it against you or judge you for it,” Namjoon says your thoughts out loud, making you nod in agreement.

“I really want to do well in his class, I’ve already taken a liking to him,” You reply and suddenly, an arm slings around your shoulder. The familiar smell of his cologne wafts through your nose and you smile, turning to the boy standing beside you.

“Taken a liking to who?” Yoongi asks, raising his free hand up to Namjoon as a greeting. The taller boy raises his eyebrows smiling.

“Professor Bang. He’s like, our favorite teacher now.” You explain and Yoongi lets out an ‘aah’.

“Are you up for some lunch right now? Seokjin and Hobi are at this cool diner ten minutes away from here,” Yoongi asks the two of you and Namjoon shrugs.

“Sure, why not?”

When you get to the diner, Seokjin and Hoseok are in another intense conversation again. “I’m telling you, Hobi! She was looking at my broad shoulders!” Seokjin explains dramatically, Hoseok’s eyes were wide as saucers as he sipped on his Sprite, listening to Seokjin. Seokjin leans back in his seat and says casually, “She might even be looking for ways to get my number right now.”

Walking up to them, Yoongi places a hand on Seokjin’s shoulder and says, “She was probably staring at the alpacas resting on both shoulders as if they were your devil and angel.” Yoongi pats the alpaca heads sewn on Seokjin’s shoulders. Seokjin had a weird obsession for alpacas, it was insane.

“Why is it that all of you refuse to believe someone’s actually into me? Why do you all keep on insisting that it’s because of my fashion taste? Tsh,” Seokjin complains, scooting over so you can sit next to him. He pats your head and you bump his shoulder in response. Yoongi sits beside Hobi in front of you, and Joon takes the seat at the end of the table.

You give the exasperated man beside you a side hug as he picks up a chicken wing, groaning under his breath. “That’s okay, Seokjinnie. It’s just because they’ve never seen you actually charm the pants off someone,” You try to console him as he pouts while deboning his chicken.

“Oh, don’t boost his ego any further, Y/N,” Yoongi teases, making Hobi and Joon laugh. You pout and give him a look. “I’m not! You guys just don’t appreciate his visuals, right?” You coo and turn to look at Seokjin who finishes his chicken and puts it down, nodding furiously.

“Ah, come here, Y/N!” Seokjin pulls you in, his greasy fingers reaching out for you as you lean back, laughing. He glares at you but still pulls you in, careful to not stain your baby pink blouse. “I only care about Y/N in this friendship now, she’s the only one that can understand me. Look, she’s even wearing my favorite color!” Seokjin’s windshield wiper laugh starts up.

Namjoon throws his head back, Hobi slams his hands on the table, and Yoongi’s shoulders shake as they laugh at their eldest friend’s antics. “Yes, now give me some love and feed me,” You reply, opening your mouth for Seokjin to feed you. The boy stops laughing, a serious look on his face replacing his huge grin earlier.

“Look, Y/N. I know I said I care about you, but this is MY chicken,” Seokjin explains seriously. You pout at that and Yoongi, your ever-loving best friend swoops in.

“Stop asking for food from him! He only cares about RJ, come on, I’ll get you food,” Yoongi stands up and you follow suit.

“Oh come on, why do you always treat Y/N out for food? What about us?” Your friends protest and Yoongi squints his eyes at them. “This is my best friend we’re talking about here,” he says matter-of-factly. “Then what are WE? Are we just trees to you now?” Hoseok whines and Namjoon snorts at that.

“You’re my friends, duh?” Yoongi shrugs and you laugh. “Come on, Y/N. You want some milkshake too?” Yoongi turns around.

Namjoon lets out an obvious cough. “Whipped,” he mutters and Hoseok and Seokjin laugh. Yoongi turns back around. “What was that?” he asks, and the boys shake their heads at him.

“Nothing,” Namjoon says casually. Yoongi shrugs, turns back around and pulls you with him to the counter.

Yoongi: something’s up with you. Meet me in the parking lot, we’re going somewhere

You sigh when you read Yoongi’s text. You text back a simple ‘okay, be there in a bit’, before making your way to the other side of the school. Even though you knew Yoongi your whole life, it still amazes you how much he can sense when something is wrong. You haven’t texted him yet about how terrible your day went, and here he is, sending the first text. You look up and think back to the events that happened an hour prior.

It’s the week after the deadline of your essay for Professor Bang’s class and during class that day, he returned your essays, red writings scribbled onto your notebooks. On top of yours, in a slightly messy handwriting were the words, “good job, y/n, see me after class please”. You smiled gently at that but then saw the long note he wrote on Namjoon’s. You were starting to doubt your work, so when class ended, you hastily made your way to the front of the room.

Professor Bang was fixing his things and you waited for the last student to walk out, giving Namjoon a close-lipped smile to let him know he should go ahead. He nods and you turn back around to face Professor Bang.

“Y/N, please sit down, kid,” Professor Bang tells you when he looks up, and you nod, grabbing a chair in the front row and bringing it closer to Professor Bang’s table. You gulp. Professor Bang was a short man, slightly on the chubbier side and had small eyes that disappeared whenever he smiled. He was absolutely adorable, but right now, you were starting to doubt that.

“Why did you call me over, Professor?” You ask timidly. Professor Bang scrunches his face up, removing his glasses as he sits comfortably. “It’s about your essay, Y/N.” He answers and you sit up straighter. “Um, what about it, Sir?”

“Do you remember what I told you when I gave you this assignment?” Professor Bang asks and you pause for a bit. 

“You, uh, told us to write about anything we were comfortable with; things that we were concerned about, things that were close to us,” You answer.

He nods. “But you know what else I said? I told you to write without restrictions, to write without thinking much about it,” he tells you and you frown lightly.

“I don’t think I quite understand what you mean, sir.” Professor Bang gives you a gentle smile.

“You wrote about something you were concerned about, correct? The transition of being a teenager to an adult,” he begins, and you nod. “You gave a wonderful essay, actually. But it had no soul, Y/N.” He says, leaving you confused. “When I read your essay you know what I thought? ‘This kid is smart, she’s talented, but she’s also trying too hard,” he explains and your heart drops.

Well. That hurt.

“In my class, Y/N, I want you to write for yourself, not for your grades. I want you to write because you want to, not because you want good grades, or because you want me to notice you. Believe me, I notice all of you. I know who you are when I read your essay. I know the kind of person you are, or you want to become. There are things you were keeping from me in your essay. There were also things you shouldn’t have included in your essay. You were keeping your true self from me. I want you to work on that, okay? Stop thinking about things that could happen in the future and start thinking about the things that could happen now. Focus on the now, rather than the later.”

“Penny for your thoughts?” Yoongi’s voice snaps you out of your trance, and you look up, realizing you’ve mindlessly made it to the parking lot, and in front of his car, no less. You sigh and just look at him. Yoongi steps closer to you, extending his arm out to you. He’s wearing all black today, but the rainbow bracelet you made for him during an arts and craft class in the summer when you were only ten rests comfortably on his wrist.

“Come on, just you and me, yeah?” Yoongi asks you gently, and you nod, reaching forward to take his hand in yours. When you look up at him, you see other students from your peripheral vision stopping to look. Yoongi notices and squeezes your hand to get your attention. You look back at him and nod again. “Okay.”

Yoongi leads you over to your side of the car and he opens the door for you. You get in and he closes it behind you, casually walking around to his side. You see him wave to a few girls who soon giggle after the interaction and snort. Yoongi opens the door and gets in. He puts his key in the ignition and starts up the car.

“Who were those girls?” You ask, and Yoongi hums. “Some girls in my class, according to Seokjin they have the hots for me, but I don’t really know what that means.” You laugh as Yoongi pulls out of his parking space and you twist in your seat, folding your legs underneath you.

“Hey, watch it. I don’t want my seat getting dirt on it,” he calls you out, his eyes never leaving the road. You pout at him and drop your legs, a grin spreading across Yoongi’s face. 

“Just kidding. You can pull your feet up. I’ll just have it cleaned if ever, anyway.” You roll your eyes at your best friend.

“Wow, Min Yoongi sure loves flexing his limitless credit card in front of me, his very much broke and short on cash best friend, Y/L/N Y/N.” You proclaim sarcastically, and Yoongi laughs at you, casting you a side glance.

“Hmm, I think it’s more like, Min Yoongi loves flexing his limitless credit card in front of you, his very much broke and short on cash best friend Y/L/N Y/N because he loves you and would spend all of it on you anyway.” Yoongi tips his head at you and you shrug, nodding.

“True.”

Thirty minutes later, Yoongi stops at a cliff overlooking the entire town. The sun was just beginning to set, so you can just about imagine the beautiful scene painted in front of you.

You slowly make your way to the edge of the cliff and lean against the metal railings. You stare into the horizon, the wind blowing in your face. You soon close your eyes, your worries melting away as you just take it all in. You feel Yoongi’s presence beside you when his cologne wafts through your nose like usual. You hum softly.

“Why did you bring me here?” You ask him quietly, your eyes still closed. 

Yoongi lets out a puff of air and shrugs. “I found this place last week when I didn’t have inspiration for a composition. It helps me clear my mind, you know. Being here. You were going through something, and I just kind of wanted to help ease your worries, I guess.” He explains softly. 

You open your eyes and turn to look at him.

To someone who hasn’t known Yoongi their whole life, he was the dark and always angry sort of guy, because he always gave off a dark vibe, wearing fine, expensive clothing that was most of the time black. He stood out among his friends because Hoseok was loud, bright, and giggly; Namjoon was silent, smart, and reserved; and Seokjin…well, he was loud, funny, and attractive. Yoongi was far too different to be part of their circle if you gave them a once over and left it at that alone. But you knew him your whole life. Yes, he did give off that vibe no matter what he did, yes, he stood out among his friends like a sore thumb, but nobody knew how soft and tender he was when it came to you. His friends feared him at times too; when he was in a particularly bad mood (although it was a rare), but never in life were you ever scared of him. 

Yoongi always made you feel safe.

And when you look at him now, it didn’t matter that he was wearing all black and probably looked like the typical rich kid bad boy in all those cliché teen novellas. It didn’t matter that he would probably punch someone in the face if they dared touch his Audi. Because when you look at Min Yoongi now, you only saw your best friend since diapers, you only saw the guy who promised to care for and protect you no matter what.

“Thank you, Yoongi. I really needed it,” you whisper, and he smiles at you, something other people don’t see often, but something you saw on the daily. He pulls you in for a hug and you rest your head comfortably on his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist as he wraps his around your shoulders.

“Whatever it was that bothered you, you’ll get through it. I know you can. You don’t have to tell me now if you don’t want to. Whenever you’re ready, I’m all ears.” Yoongi tells you and nod. He squeezes you gently and kisses the crown of your head.

“Thank you, Yoongi.”

“Anything for my Y/N.”

“Hey, guys, where’s Yoongi?” You greet Hoseok and Seokjin, as you and Namjoon sit down beside them at a table in the café your group has been frequenting at lately.

Seokjin stops eating his second serving of the banana muffin to look at you, a disappointed look on his face. 

“Yah, Y/N. Are you going to ask about Yoongi first before the people that actually invited you over?” Seokjin dramatically complains and you roll your eyes at your overly dramatic friend. You move to sit beside Hoseok instead and Namjoon sits beside the drama queen.

Just to spite him, you use Hoseok’s fork and stab a piece of his banana muffin, shoving it quickly in your mouth. You smirk when Seokjin gasps dramatically and faints, resting on Namjoon dramatically. No wonder he’s a theatre major. The younger boy rolls his eyes at his cousin but lets him stay there.

“He’s in one of the studios, he’s busy composing,” Hoseok answers your question. You give him a hug and he giggles at your action. “Thanks Hobi, you’re definitely not like that dramatic hoe across from me.”

Upon hearing you call him a dramatic hoe, Seokjin sits up straight. Just as he’s about to cry out another complaint, three girls walk up to your table, stopping Seokjin.

“Hi, Seokjin,” the girl in the middle greets, a sweet smile on her face. You bite your lip to prevent yourself from laughing. Seokjin flashes her a charming smile, which you must admit, does look great on him. 

“Hey, Sana,” he greets coolly. Namjoon and Hoseok just watch, and Seokjin revels in the fact that his friends can finally see him charm a girl.

“So there’s this new movie coming out after finals next week, um, do you maybe wanna watch it together sometime?” She asks as her friends giggle. 

Seokjin casts his friends side glance, smirking. Hoseok scratches the back of his head, that look on his face, and Namjoon just looks back and forth between Seokjin and the girl. 

You can only purse your lips, resisting the urge to laugh.

Seokjin shrugs. “Sure,” Sana bites her lip and smiles. 

“And Namjoon and Hoseok can come along too!” Her other two friends nod eagerly, and yours, Namjoon’s and Hoseok’s jaws drop. 

“Yeah, they’re coming along too,” Seokjin answers for them and all three of you snap your heads to look at him. What the fuck is he doing? Hoseok slaps a hand to his forehead and Namjoon can only hide his face in his hands.

The girls don’t seem to notice their discomfort about the arrangement because they even ask about Yoongi. “Is he coming along too? My other friend really likes him,” Sana says and just as you’re about to say something, Hoseok jumps in. 

“Um, I don’t think Yoongi hyung would appreciate that, he’s already dating someone.” 

You, Seokjin, and Namjoon all whip your heads to look at Hoseok.

“Really? But I’ve never seen him out with someone,” Sana’s friend, asks and Hoseok gulps, nodding. 

“He’s very private about their relationship, you see,” he chuckles nervously. 

The girls pout. “Well, that’s too bad. Anyway, I’ll text you?” Sana turns back to Seokjin who nods. She smiles at him and they say goodbye before walking away. 

Once they’re out of earshot, you turn to each other and both Hoseok and Namjoon turn to Seokjin. 

“What the hell man?!” 

Seokjin raises his hands up in surrender. “In my defense, I scored you guys dates. They’ve been head over heels for you since like, midterms, have you never seen them look at you before?” Seokjin asks and the two groan.

“Of course we have! But we don’t know them!” Namjoon stresses. “Then this is the perfect time to get to know them!” Seokjin rebuts. 

“They’re not our type, hyung. Do you even know who likes who?” Hoseok cries out. Seokjin pauses, then looks up in thought. “Well, no… but—” Hoseok cuts him off.

“See! Why would you go out on a date if you’re not sure whether they like you or your friend?” Hoseok asks him. Seokjin snorts. 

“Yah! At least I didn’t tell them Yoongi was seeing someone when he clearly wasn’t!” At that, you look up from your phone, having given up on joining their conversation earlier.

What a great way to change the topic.

Hoseok sits back and sighs, closing his eyes, knowing he fucked up too. He rubs his temples, clearly exhausted.

“Yeah, what was that about, Hobi?” Namjoon joins in. You can only sit properly in your seat and turn to look at the boy beside you. Hoseok opens his eyes and decides, ‘ah, fuck it’, as he crosses his hands in front of him.

“Yoongi’s not seeing anyone, sure, but he soon will.”

The three of you furrow your eyebrows, not quite sure what Jung Hoseok meant. 

Noticing the confused looks on your faces, he sips his peppermint latte and looks at you. You raise an eyebrow at him and he shakes his head.

“I think it’s obvious enough that he’s smitten for you.” You snort at his statement and turn to look at Namjoon and Seokjin, who both catch on and soon have the same expressions on their faces, one that makes it look like they know something you don’t.

“What are you talking about?” You ask, confused. Namjoon sighs and you turn to look at him. “Yoongi likes you, Y/N. He may not know it right now, but he will.” You laugh nervously and shake your head. “No, he doesn’t. He’s always been like that with me, guys.”

Seokjin shakes his head. “It’s always been you. It’s always been different whenever you were involved. Yoongi’s different when you’re around.” 

“But, how?” You ask, still clearly confused. You honestly didn’t know what they were talking about. Nothing made sense to you; what did they mean by Yoongi being different when you were around? Yoongi’s still Yoongi.

“What’s so wrong with Yoongi liking you, Y/N?” Hoseok asks, placing a hand on your shoulder. You shake your head and shrug. “Nothing, I just don’t quite understand. How can Yoongi be different around me?” Seokjin sighs and fixes his hair.

“You’re both so dense, I don’t know why I’m friends with you,” he complains. “You’ll realize it eventually. I won’t spoon feed you both on this. It’s time for you to figure that part out for yourselves.” Seokjin finishes his muffin.

“Okay, I better get going, I have to meet up with some of my classmates, we’re revising for the finals next week,” Seokjin stands up and pats your head as he grabs his stuff. You all say goodbye to him and he heads out.

The three of you stay for a little bit longer before you decide to head out. The sun was already beginning to set. You say goodbye to Hoseok and Namjoon; Hoseok had to stop by the dance studio and Namjoon was heading for the library.

Finals week is next week but you were in no mood to study and review for it just yet. The events from earlier kept clouding your thoughts and you didn’t know what to think of it all. So, instead of heading for the library, you make your way to the field where you see other students sitting together in groups, talking, studying, and hanging out amongst themselves. 

You make your way under a huge tree and sit down, placing your books and backpack beside you as you lean on the tree trunk. Folding your legs, you wrap your arms around your shins, resting your head on the space between your knees.

You allow your mind to drift off and think of Seokjin, Namjoon, and Hoseok’s words from earlier. Of course Yoongi likes you, you’re his best friend. But Yoongi liking you in a different sense? You weren’t so sure about that. Sure, he’s affectionate and overprotective with you, but that’s probably because he sees you like a little sister.

But then again, you do notice that Yoongi really is different with how he treats you, ever since you were little.

“Y/N! Come sit beside me, I wanna show you something,” an adorable, 5-year old Min Yoongi with a few missing teeth beckons you to come sit beside him on the piano chair, his small legs dangling underneath him. You make your way over to him, your fingers still slightly sticky from the lollipop you just ate. You clamber up the piano chair, courtesy of the small stool placed next to it.

Yoongi grins at you and you merely look at him, before your eyes drift over to the white music sheets laid out in front of him. Your best friend was a prodigy and you knew that. The slightly shaky handwriting of his musical notes on the sheets were enough evidence for you to know that he composed it himself.

“What’s that, Yoongi?” you finally say, pressing a sticky pointer finger to the white sheet music. Yoongi gently takes your hand off the paper and places it back onto your lap as he looks at you with a bright smile on your face.

“I made this song for you, Y/N! I want you to listen to it carefully, okay?” Yoongi tells you and you grin excitedly.

Yoongi turns to face his piano properly and ever so delicately, he places his fingers on the black and white keys, his fingers dancing over them so effortlessly. It didn’t matter that his hands were still a bit too short for the huge piano, he still hit each and every note with precision. A beautiful melody fills the room and your eyes brighten up at the sound of it.

When Yoongi finishes, you tackle him in a hug, not caring about your sticky face or fingers at all.

“That was pretty, Yoongi!” he giggles at your reaction and hugs you back with the same enthusiasm.

You smile fondly at the memory, that was the very first song Yoongi ever composed, and he was only five. He made it for you and even named it after you. Up to this day, that was your favorite composition of Yoongi’s.

The wind picks up and your hair blows not so gracefully in your face. You sputter after your hair gets stuck in your mouth and a melodious laughter comes from behind you. You turn around and sure enough, your best friend is standing there, a bright gummy smile on his face. His shoulders are shaking slightly as he laughs at your expression and walks closer to you.

You scoot over and make some space for him. Yoongi flops down beside you, letting out a relaxed sigh after doing so. He gives you a side hug, patting the top of your head and you line your head on his shoulder.

“How did composing go?” you bring up and he clicks his tongue. “It went great, I think I’m ready for finals next week. How about you?” Yoongi gives you his full attention. 

You shrug and he nudges you to continue.

“I’m having a hard time in Professor Bang’s class. I’m finding it hard to write anything without it coming off as trying too hard or with no effort at all. He wants me to write about me but I don’t quite get it. It’s been on my mind ever since you brought me to that cliff a few weeks ago. I’m never proud with the things I write and although Professor Bang doesn’t say much anymore, I can still feel that he’s still not contented with my work. He’s still looking for something,” you sigh and Yoongi squeezes your shoulder gently.

“You wanna know my secret?” Yoongi begins and you snort. 

“What are we, five?” Yoongi laughs. “You need to wear your heart on your sleeve. You need to let your guard down, Y/N. That’s how I compose such great songs. Being an artist kind of means like presenting yourself naked to your audience.”

You give him a look. 

“What I’m trying to say is, you shouldn’t hide who you are from your audience. You also shouldn’t try too hard to please or satisfy them. Go for what makes you happy. Go for what makes you sad, or angry, or frustrated, or confused. Don’t go for what makes them happy, sad, angry, frustrated, or confused. Your audience’s feelings will just follow through, you have to make them feel what you feel.”

You look at him in amazement, your lips parting slightly. Yoongi gives you a confused look. “What? Is there something on my face?”

“Now I know why you’re my best friend.” You proclaim and he grins at you.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You better, Min.”

Later that night, you pull out the worn journal that Yoongi gave you for your thirteenth birthday, something he bought on a trip with his family in Greece. You treasured it so much, because most of your favorite writings were in there and it’s been a witness to your best and worst moments. Your fingers trace the worn out pages, a smile growing on your face as you skim through your writings. 

You didn’t stick to one kind of literary work; you wrote whatever came to your mind. There were scribbles and doodles, and you even found some pages stained with tears, ink, and… chocolate?

Damn, you were quite the messy kid, weren’t you?

You reach a blank page and pull out a random pen - which turned out to have pink ink, from your pouch.

You pull the cap out and stick it in the other end, your hand hovering over the page, hesitating. You remember Professor Bang’s words and Yoongi’s advice from earlier. 

Slowly, you put your pen down and your fingers start writing the first few lines to a new piece.

Maybe it was the way he constantly made me smile,

Maybe it was how he’d always go the extra mile,

“It’s different when you’re involved,” they said,

You started filling up every corner and every crevice of my head.

Was this how it was supposed to be,

Should it have been you and me?

Well, you always left me lost in a trance,

So maybe we should give this love a chance.

You stop writing and your eyes scan what you wrote. Your lips part open slightly at the realization of what you just wrote. Were you writing about Yoongi? Was this what the boys were talking about?

You’re not quite sure about it, but you might just already be in love with Min Yoongi.

Yoongi was nowhere to be seen, and young little Y/N was already bored to death. You and Yoongi were supposed to be in the middle of a game of snakes and ladders, but the young boy had left the playroom to get something from his room. He hasn’t returned for only five minutes, yet you thought it felt like an entire lifetime.

Getting up from your spot on the floor, you make your way over to Yoongi’s grand piano sat in the corner of the large room. You eye pieces of paper lying on the floor, musical notes scribbled on it. 

Young, 3-year old you knew nothing about music, but the way the notes were scribbled on the paper left you intrigued. You crouched down, picked one up from the pile and brought it back with you to your previous spot, where your crayons were sprawled all over the floor messily.

You flop down with a huff and lies flat on your stomach, the sheet music in front of you . You pick up your chubby red crayon and bring it over the paper, pressing lightly as you start doodling all over Yoongi’s composition.

In the middle of your artwork, Yoongi walks in the room with a pink box and he gasps when he sees his best friend scribble over the composition he just finished yesterday.

“Y/N, no!” He drops the box and runs over to you as fast as his little feet can carry him. 

At the sound of Yoongi’s voice, you stop doodling and turn around, sitting up when you see Yoongi running over to you. Yoongi quickly grabs the sheet, his eyes frantically looking over the sheet music that was now covered with red doodles.

Yoongi’s eyes begin to water and although you didn’t quite understand it all, you knew that your best friend was upset. His bottom lip begins to tremble, and soon, tears flow from his eyes and he lets out a cry as he looks at his destroyed composition.

The sound of footsteps soon come closer and you turn around, seeing your mom and Yoongi’s mom walk in the room with confused looks on their faces. They spot the children sat on the floor and their eyes take in the scene in front of them - Yoongi was clutching a piece of paper in his hands, crying, and you were looking up at them, a confused look on your face mirroring theirs. 

“What happened here?” Your mom asks as they both bend down to you and Yoongi.

Yoongi turns to look at his mom as he cries. “Y/N scribbled all over my sheet music.” He crawls over to his mom and hugs her, hiding his face in her chest as he continues to cry. 

Both his mom and your mom turn to look at you, and it’s then that you realize it’s your fault. Tears fill your eyes as well and you stand up to hug your mom too.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” you cry, hiding from Yoongi and his mom, ashamed of what you’d done.

At the sound of your crying, Yoongi stops crying and turns to look at you. He steps away from his mom and waddles over to you, his small hands reaching out to grab your arm.

“No, no, don’t cry, too.” He sniffles and he pulls you to face him. 

Reluctantly, you turn to face him and you try to stop crying as Yoongi squishes your face in his hands.

“It’s okay, I can do it again,” he tells you and you shake your head no.

“I’m sorry, Yoongi! It won’t happen again,” You cry and Yoongi can only nod. He pulls you with him, and he leads the both of you over to the grand piano. Yoongi gives you a side hug and he places his fingers on the black and white keys. Yoongi begins to play your favorite song, the very first one he wrote for you, snot and tears and all that.

You sniffle and calm down when you hear the familiar comforting melody. You wipe your snot away and rest your head on Yoongi’s shoulder.

Your moms watch the scene in front of them, knowing smiles on their faces.

“If our kids don’t end up together, I don’t know what I’ll do,” Your mom whispers to Yoongi’s mom as they leave the room.

Yoongi’s mom snorts. “Don’t worry, because by the looks of it, my son’s smitten as hell and he’s only five.”

Your mom laughs at that. “True.”

“Woah, are you okay, bubs?” Yoongi asks worriedly when he steps inside your dorm room and takes in the sight before him. 

Books and notebooks are open sprawled around your bed and on the floor, your pens and highlighters open and probably all dried up, your hair was tied up in a messy bun that probably hadn’t been brushed properly since this morning, and your laptop open in front of you while you sit on your computer chair, your left leg folded underneath you and your right leg stretched out all the way to your bed. Your laptop was playing Day6’s Congratulations, and you were furiously typing away, cramming through your essays that were also due during finals week.

Your glasses fall down the bridge of your nose and you sigh, taking them off before you turn around to greet your best friend.

“Hey, Yoons, what’s up?” You smile tiredly at him, reaching over your bed to push away your books and notebooks to make room for your best friend to sit down on.

You chuckle as he sits down, scratching your hair. “Sorry about the mess, I didn’t have the time to fix it earlier.”

“It’s okay, Y/N. But you should really take a break, don’t overwork yourself,” Yoongi smiles and ruffles your hair, making you laugh. You spot the gray flask in his left hand and your eyes widen.

“Is that soju?” You gasp and Yoongi nods. You lean forward and snatch the flask from him, twisting the cap open. You pour some of the alcoholic drink onto the cap and down it all in one go, the strong taste burning down your throat. You think that maybe Yoongi meant to bring this for you and not for him, because it’s your favorite flavor, classic. Yoongi could never tolerate the classic flavor of soju and he always opted for the fresh one.

Yoongi simply watches you take shot after shot of the alcoholic drink and smiles, knowing you’ll get a hangover the next day. Nevermind though, because he’ll take care of you anyway, and your first exam isn’t until 2:00 pm tomorrow. 

Once you’ve finished the entire bottle, you wipe your lips with the back of your hand, grinning drunkenly at your best friend. He smirks at the sight of you and stands up to save your work. He closes your laptop and crouches down to look at you. 

“You’re such an alcoholic, Y/L/N Y/N.” Yoongi comments and you can only giggle.

“Thanks, Yoongi.” You pat his cheek, and knock out dead on your desk, snoring away as your head rests on your laptop. Y/L/N Y/N is out like a light at 5:22 pm.

Yoongi’s gummy smile makes its appearance as you sleep soundly, without a care in the world. He turns around and stares at the mess cluttering around your room. Yoongi bends down and starts cleaning; he picks up your pens and highlighters and puts the caps back on, although he doubts that they’d still work (maybe you bought those kind that would last for up to 48 hours uncapped but he wasn’t so sure, knowing you), and he closes your books, making sure to stick in bookmarks in case those pages were important. He stacks your stuff on the extra table beside your desk and fixes your bed for you to sleep in.

Yoongi turns around and he laughs softly at the sight of your drool running down the side of your arm. Yoongi crouches down and he brushes the hair away from your face. Upon taking a closer look at you, he can see how much you’ve stressed yourself out this week. 

The dark circles under your eyes, the messy hair, and the way you snored were enough to tell Yoongi that you were dead tired. Even your drool told Yoongi that you were exhausted, because you only ever drooled in your sleep when you were worn out.

Yoongi carefully helps you out of your chair and onto your bed, where he tucks you in snugly. He turns the lights off and leaves only your night light on. Yoongi sits down beside you and simply admires the way you sleep (it’s not as creepy as you think it is!).

Yoongi watches the way your chest heaves up and down as your breathe slowly, soft snores leaving your lips. He watches the way a small smile is etched onto your lips, making you look so sweet and so innocent, like you didn’t just down an entire flask of soju in one go. He watches the way you shift to a more comfortable position, pushing your face further into your pillow.

And as Yoongi watches you sleep so peacefully, he realizes that he can get used to this - get used to watching you fall asleep, and maybe, just maybe, fall asleep with you. Yoongi thinks that if seeing you fall asleep makes him want to fall asleep with you, then maybe the idea of waking up with you isn’t so bad, either.

A soft mumble leaves your lips and you start to babble nonsense, things like “after the falling action is the denouement, and yay, the end”, and Yoongi smiles. 

Without realizing it, Yoongi leans forward, and presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “Good night, Y/N.”

His heart flutters at his own action, and Yoongi smiles when he realizes it.

“I love my best friend. I love Y/N. I love you,” Yoongi whispers to himself, his eyes never leaving your sleeping form.

You are never drinking before an exam ever again. 

Your head is throbbing and you can’t move because every small action makes your head feel like it’s about to break. You can totally place the blame on your best friend because he didn’t stop you from downing the entire flask, but at the same time, it’s all your fault for even drinking in the first place when you knew you had an exam the following day.

You close your eyes and shield it with your arm as the 7:00 am sunlight streams in through the bedroom windows. Your stomach is grumbling and you realize that you didn’t even eat dinner last night because you fell asleep at 5:00 pm after drinking.

You badly want to get up and go find something to eat in your stash but like we’ve already established earlier, you can’t. So you endure your hunger until the hangover goes away. If it goes away.

The door opens and your savior walks through the door.

Thank God for Min Yoongi.

“Oh, you’re awake already. I brought you some aspirin and hangover food,” he greets you, closing the door shut behind him gently. Yoongi places his stuff on your chair as he makes his way over to you, helping you sit up. You’re groaning and clutching onto your best friend’s shoulders because you can’t bring yourself to sit up properly. 

Yoongi’s arms wound around your waist and - oh, come on, why now - butterflies erupt in your stomach, along with the acid and the hunger (okay that’s kinda gross). You scoot over to the wall and Yoongi places a pillow behind you to separate your back from the cold, hard wall.

Boyfriend material, anybody?

Yoongi opens the bottled water he bought and places a tablet of aspirin on your weakly opened palm. You take the medicine and finish the entire bottle of water, refreshing yourself completely.

Your head feels a bit better now and the pain is now tolerable. “Ugh, don’t make me drink before an exam again,” you groan and lean forward, clutching onto your stomach as you rest your head on Yoongi’s shoulder. Yoongi chuckles and although your head’s aching at his action, you like hearing his laugh. He strokes your hair gently and you scoot closer to him, practically clinging onto him.

“You wanna eat?” Yoongi asks you and you nod from your place in the crook of his neck. Yoongi reaches over to get your food. He starts feeding you saltine crackers and fruits and coconut milk and you think it’s weird but according to him it’s good for a hangover.

While you take small bites from the banana, Yoongi focuses all his attention on you. The sun shines on you in just the right spot; it hits your eyes perfectly that the natural color pops out prettily. Your cheeks are puffed out slightly and you chew on your banana in complete concentration.

You soon feel his gaze on you and your heart speeds up upon realizing it. Your senses are unbelievably heightened while you’re hungover, apparently. You swallow your last piece of the banana carefully before looking up at Yoongi.

When you do, a smile is on his lips and he looks at you with this strange look on his face; you’re not sure what it is, exactly. You raise an eyebrow questioningly.

“What?”

Yoongi shakes his head and he cups your face in his hand, rubbing his thumb gently along your cheek. His action causes more butterflies to erupt in your stomach, and at this point, you’re not sure if you want to vomit or eat some more.

“You’re so beautiful,” Yoongi whispers, his eyes never leaving yours.

You really can’t understand your best friend right now and you also don’t want to get your hopes up, so you laugh it off.

“I know I am, especially when I’m hungover,” you joke and you think Yoongi’s smile falters a bit, but he quickly covers it up with a grin.

He clears his throat, and stands up. You follow his actions, and he pats your shoulder gently.

“Get a few more hours of rest, you’ll feel better just before your exam, okay?” Yoongi tells you and you pout, making him want to just ditch his 8:30 exam to stay with you a little longer.

“Won’t you stay with me?” You tug on the hem of his yellow hoodie (wow, a change if wardrobe for finals week?), and he shakes his head ‘no’.

“Unfortunately, not everyone has exams that start at 2:00 pm. I’ve got my first one at 8:30 and it’s already 7:45. The building’s three blocks away from here, too.” Yoongi explains and you nod in understanding.

“That’s fine, good luck on your exam,” you reply, and Yoongi leans down to give you a kiss on the top of your head.

“Get some rest, love.” Yoongi whispers, making your heart speed up at the endearment.

“I will.” You assure him and he cups your face in his hands, rubbing your cheeks gently with the pads of his thumbs.

“I’ll call you, okay?” Yoongi asks and you smile, nodding.

He stands back up to his full height and makes his way to the door. He gives you one last smile before twisting the doorknob and stepping out.

The door closes and you wait for a few more beats before you sigh. 

Yes, you were definitely in love with your best friend and it wasn’t the heightened senses that came with the hangover.

“I knew it, I knew it, I knew it!” Hoseok claps his hands together excitedly, earning an eye roll from Seokjin and a smile from Namjoon. Yoongi can only stare at his friends in confusion.

“What do you mean, ‘I knew it’?” Yoongi asks and the three boys look at each other, sighing simultaneously.

“Hyung, everyone can see how much you’re in love with her, except the both of you. Have you never read those cliché best friends to lovers trope on Tumblr?” Hoseok asks and Yoongi merely shrugs.

“I don’t have time for that shit,” Yoongi deadpans.

“But you have time for Y/N,” Seokjin points out.

“Because he’s whipped, you guys,” Namjoon adds in.

“Whatever,” Yoongi dismisses his friends comments. “All I know is that I love her. I really, really, do.” Yoongi confesses.

“Then tell her!” His friends say in unison.

“I will! I’m just,” Yoongi pauses and they look at him expectantly. 

He looks at them before continuing, “I’m just trying to find the right time to confess, I think she feels the same way.”

Seokjin flips his bangs and sighs. “Not think, but know. It’s obvious how much you both love each other, Yoongi. Literally anyone with two eyes and common sense can see that.”

“Except maybe for those girls the other week,” Namjoon coughs into his shoulder and Hoseok bursts out in laughter, holding his hand up for a high five which Namjoon gladly reciprocates.

“Yah, don’t be mean, I think they’re really nice,” Seokjin defends them and Yoongi shakes his head at them.

Namjoon and Hoseok turn their attention to Yoongi and forget about the handsome elder. 

“So, do you need our help with confessing?” Namjoon asks.

Yoongi looks up in thought. “I haven’t really thought that far yet, all I know is that I want it to be something she’ll never forget.”

“You can maybe write her a song?” Hoseok suggests.

“I write her songs all the time,” Yoongi points out.

“Maybe you can take her out somewhere and prepare this really extravagant surprise,” Namjoon tries.

Yoongi shakes his head. “Y/N’s not into that, remember? I need this to be perfect,” he stresses.

Yes, Min Yoongi was hands down whipped for you because instead of worrying about his next exam set to happen in thirty minutes, he’s busy worrying about how he’s going to confess to you.

His friends sigh. 

“Hyung, I think you should take a break. Go prepare for your exams, yeah?” Namjoon suggests and Yoongi gives in.

“You’re right, I have one in thirty minutes.”

Hoseok smiles and stands up. “I’ve gotta go, mine’s in fifteen minutes.”

“And you’re that chill?” Namjoon looks amazed. Hoseok grins.

“The perks of being a dance major, baby,” Hoseok shrugs casually before slinging his backpack over his shoulder and making his way out of the café.

Seokjin lets out a relaxed sigh. “I’m all done for the day, so I’m going to go eat something somewhere and think of how you can confess to Y/N.” Yoongi gives his hyung an appreciative smile.

“Thanks, hyung, but don’t you have exams to prepare for?” Seokjin snorts.

“I studied all of last week, I think I’m all done. One more and I might actually go crazy.” Yoongi and Namjoon laugh at that.

Yoongi makes his move to stand up. “I’ll see you guys later, good luck.” He pats the guys on the back before he leaves.

On the short walk to his building, Yoongi pulls his phone out and presses on speed dial 1, of course, the one and only Y/L/N Y/N.

Y/N picks up after three rings.

“Hey, why’d you call?” Y/N’s sweet voice rings through the phone and a smile automatically makes its way to Yoongi’s face. 

“Hey, how are you feeling, bubs?” Yoongi inquires.

“All better, thanks to you! Although I’m kind of starving, I have an hour and a half before my first test,” Y/N chirps.

“Joon and Jin hyung are at the café, maybe you can go grab something to eat with them, I have an exam in twenty minutes,” Yoongi informs her.

“Okay! Good luck on that, you’ll do great,” Y/N tells him sweetly.

“Aaah, I know I will. You’re my lucky charm,” Yoongi smirks and he can just see Y/N’s blushing cheeks from the way she started to stutter.

“Uh...ha ha, okay, uh, gotta go, Yoons! Bye!” She immediately hangs up and Yoongi chuckles when he hears the line drop dead.

Yoongi shakes his head and slides his phone back into his pocket as he walks inside the music building.

The smile never leaves his face, even as he starts to answer his test all the way until he finishes it. The people he shared that class with started to worry for his mental health, because Yoongi never smiled this much, never smile this genuine. Well, he did smile occasionally, but there was something different with the way Yoongi carried himself that day that left his classmates slightly concerned for him.

“Hey, Yoongi. You alright, man?” Kyungsoo, a friend he talks to occasionally in his class asks.

Yoongi nods, a smile on his lips. “Yeah, why?”

Kyungsoo looks at him weirdly. He laughs it off. “Nothing. Just, if you need someone to talk to, I’m all ears,” Kyungsoo pats him on the back.

It’s Yoongi’s turn to look at him weirdly. “Huh, okay, Soo. Thanks.” Kyungsoo nods and leaves the room, just as a beep comes from his phone.

It wasn’t just any beep, it was your ringtone. Yoongi had set specific ringtones for your texts and calls, so he’d know if he has to answer the call right away or not.

Yes, Min Yoongi was both smitten and biased when it came to you.

lovely best bub [3:07 pm] : hello there

lovely best bub [3:07 pm] : are your exams done? im kinda hungry

Just seeing your contact name — which you set, not him, already sent a smile crawling up his lips.

Yoongi [3:07 pm] : yea, see u

Yoongi [3:07 pm] : hoseok still has one exam left, I’ll meet u and joon there

He begins making his way back to the café, navigating his way through the students and the hallways with his phone in his hands.

lovely best bub [3:08 pm] : it’s just me, joon says he still has something to do

Yoongi wishes he can go give Kim Namjoon a hug (but he would never admit that in front of him) right now.

Yoongi [3:08 pm] : okay lol

lovely best bub [3:08 pm] : see u there :DD

When Yoongi reaches the café,you’re already sitting in your usual spot, going over some of your notes while you sip on your iced latte. Yoongi walks over, a soft smile on his lips. He knocks on the table gentle. You look up, and a smile immediately graces your features.

“Hey, how was your exam?” You greet as Yoongi sits down in front of you.

“It went really well, how about yours?” Yoongi inquires as he reaches forward to hold your right hand, playing with your fingers while he waits for your response.

You blush at the action and Yoongi marvels at your flustered reaction. You soon brush it off like it was nothing and take a sip from your drink to, hopefully, help cool down your flaming cheeks.

“Great, too! I hope I really poured all of my heart into it that Professor Bang will be proud of it,” you reply and Yoongi squeezes your hand gently.

“I’m sure you did, you worked hard last night,” Yoongi reassures you and you laugh.

“I’m pretty sure I got wasted last night, Yoongi.” He laughs at your retort, agreeing with you.

“Yeah, I know, but I think you did study before I arrived with the soju.” Yoongi’s reply makes the two of you laugh.

“Thanks for taking care of me, Yoongi.” You give him a gentle smile.

He returns it with one of his own. “Anything for you, Y/N.”

Were you dense? Or was Yoongi not obvious enough? No, that can’t be it. He’s very transparent with his feelings for you, right? Min Yoongi can’t seem to understand why you don’t seem to notice his advances on you. At all. 

Finals week was done and over with, and for an entire week Yoongi has been trying to get you to see how much he likes you. Even during the break, Yoong did everything; he took you out on dates, gave you more gifts than usual, paid more attention to you (if he was attentive before, he got even more attentive now), and flirted with you every chance he got.

But it’s the start of the second semester now and he still hasn’t confessed to you yet. 

“I’m telling you, hyung! It’s like she pays no attention to anything I do at all. Are you guys sure she feels the same way?” Yoongi stresses, ranting to the broad shouldered male sat in front of him. The other two younger boys look at each other, giving each other that I’m tired, he’s spewing nonsense again look before grabbing Yoongi’s attention.

“Yes, she does! She probably thinks you’re just being your normal self around her,” Namjoon responds.

“But I’m not being my normal self around her…?” Yoongi trails off.

The boys sigh. “You are, you’re normally affectionate with her, Yoongi. So Y/N thinks you’re just being you,” Seokjin adds.

“Yeah, hyung. Y/N doesn’t think anything’s changed at all. Well, maybe she thinks you’re a bit more affectionate but she’s just probably just brushing it off as you being you.”  Hoseok pipes in.

“Then what do I do?” Yoongi asks, clearly pressed about everything.

Just then, the bell to the café’s door rings noisily and the four turn around to see Y/N rushing over to them. 

“Speak of the devil,” Namjoon mutters and Yoongi stares a him. “She’s not a devil, Joon.” Namjoon slaps his forehead.

“It’s an expression, hyung --” Namjoon’s cut off when you blurt out, “I need food.”

Seokjin raises an eyebrow at you. “There’s food? Over there?” He points toward the cashier. You look over to where his index finger is pointing before turning back to them, shaking your head.

“I have class in like, 15 minutes, but I was hungry so I ran over here - because my building’s all the way on the other side - to buy something but when I was a few steps away from the door I realized I forgot my wallet at the dorms and the dorms are even farther away and I don’t have much of a choice anymore because if I still tried going back that would take me another 10 minutes or so and like I said, I only have 15 minutes and I’m really hungry so I can’t go back anymore and I just really need money for food.” You finish all in one breath, heaving lightly because you’re out of breath from running and explaining yourself.

The four look at you before Yoongi shifts in his seat, pulling his card out for you.

“Here, go buy something,” he holds it out to you. Your eyes lighten, and just as your about to take it, a light bulb goes off in Yoongi’s head and he withdraws his outstretched hand, halting your actions.

“What?” You ask, slightly agitated. 

Yoongi smirks. “Kiss me first.”

Your eyes widen, Kim Seokjin’s eyes widen, Kim Namjoon’s eyes widen, and Jung Hoseok’s eyes widen.

Wait, what?

A blush creeps up your cheeks, your palms start to clam up, and your heart starts beating faster. Oh, and your stomach grumbles for the umpteenth time too.

Yoongi only looks at you, the smirk still on his face, and his credit card resting in between his index and middle finger, just close enough for you to reach if you moved just a tad bit closer.

If you kiss Yoongi, he’ll definitely know your feelings for him. If you don’t it would make things awkward between the two of you. If you kiss him, at least you’d get food, right?

Yoongi’s starting to slightly regret his impulsive decision, but he freezes when you just go for it, and lean down to kiss his cheek, snatching the card in his fingers before you run out.

“What the fuck just happened?” Hoseok manages to speak up and Yoongi snaps out of his trance.

“Dude, what the fuck, go after her!” Hoseok shakes Yoongi who soon realizes what’s really going on. He stands up abruptly and goes after you.

“Wow, they’re a mess,” Seokjin comments as they watch Yoongi through the glass of the cafe.

“Come on, let’s go after them,” Namjoon stands up and Seokjin and Hoseok follow suit.

“Y/N, wait!” Yoongi calls out to you and when you hear his voice, you skid to a halt in the middle of the field, where some dance majors are running a routine. You attract the attention of the dance majors and they stop dancing to look at you. Clutching Yoongi’s credit card in your hand, you slowly turn around to face him.

He’s running over to you and he’s panting. When he’s close enough, he leans forward and rests his hands on his knees.

“You’re going to be late to class anyway, just, listen to me,” Yoongi wheezes out.

You bite your lip, your heart racing as you stare at the boy in front of you. When he finally catches his breath, he stands back up to his full height and looks at you.

“Yoongi, listen,I--” You begin, but he cuts you off.

“Y/N, I know you’re going to be late, I’m sorry but wait, just...let me get this off my chest because I might explode if I don’t let this out anymore, okay?” He holds you by the shoulders and you can only nod, flustered and confused at the same time.

From his peripheral, Yoongi can see a small crowd starting to form, he can see the boys somewhere too and the dance majors all stopped dancing to look at you both.

Oh, well.

Yoongi breathes deeply before he fixes his eyes on you and on you alone. 

Here it goes.

“Y/L/N YN, I love everything about you. I love the way you eat your ramen with a spoon instead of chopsticks because you’re always complaining about how your fingers hurt because you’re not the best at using chopsticks even though you’re supposed to be good at it, I mean gosh, you’re Korean you’re supposed to know that shit. I love how you can’t fall asleep without your blue and white flannel blanket because it’s the only blanket your body seems to like. I love how even though it’s beginning to smell so bad because of your drool and the food crumbs and the drinks that fall on it you still choose to use it. I love how you also sleep with that one pillow of yours that’s been there the moment I walked into the hospital room to see you bundled up in Auntie’s arms, eyes closed and without a care in the world because you were just born moments ago, and it’s so old that it’s not so fat and fluffy anymore, and oh, it also smells so bad too, seriously what is it with you and your things in bed smelling bad? Can they seriously not get washed? I love how you never use a brush to fix your hair because you’re that kind of person that just runs a hand through their hair a couple of times and you’re already good to go. I love how you scrunch your face up every time you insult one of the boys, every time you want to tease me, and every time you have your way because yet again, I’ve fallen victim to your ridiculous wishes and ideas. I love how every time you put food into your mouth, you’re pouting and chewing at the same, fuck, do you know what that fucking does to me, Y/N? It makes me go crazier and even more head over heels for you. I love how you always come to me for everything because you know that I’d never ever say no to you, it makes me feel like I matter so much to you. I love that you depend so much on me because yes, I want that so much, I want to spoil you so damn much. I love giving you all that you want, I love spoiling with anything that you want and need, no matter how stupid or out of this world or irrational it may be. I love it so much because I love the way your eyes light up like a thousand stars whenever I say yes, and fuck that’s so, so fucking cheesy but I don’t fucking care anymore because I’m pretty sure I’ve said too much that it’s enough to complete one whole damn song and I know I can’t sing but I can play the piano and compose songs so maybe I can rap too? And dammit, Y/N, I’ve loved you so much since the moment I probably first laid my eyes on you, or maybe when I wrote my first song for you and you asked me to play it for you every day. Hell, I may have even started loving you when you scribbled all over my sheet music with your big fat, red crayon. I love how you’re so selfless, how you get along with my boys, how you’re damn smart and ambitious but you’d much rather watch How I Met Your Mother and listen to angsty Day6 songs for hours on end while you wrote equally angsty prose and poetry. I love you every time you get wasted the night before an exam, drinking your stress and worries away with soju, complain about the hangover the next day and do it all over again despite promising to never do it again. I love that even though it gets you wasted because that just gives me an excuse to take care of you and have I told you that I love taking care of you? I love you for everything that you are and I’d fucking say more but dammit, we’re in public and people…people are beginning to record my confession, they were just looking at us…wait what the fuck? And I’m a blushing, stuttering mess and I’ve just poured my entire heart out to you, all these feelings I’ve kept bottled up since I was, I don’t know, five and you were three, and I’m not even fucking sure if you feel the same way but you just kissed my cheek back in the café so maybe that counts for something? Maybe it really was for the food, I don’t know. But god, I love you so much, Y/N and it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way but I just want you to know that I don’t want things to ever change between us even if my feelings are out in the open already and I’m wearing my heart on my sleeve because I’m just so damn smitten for you. I love you, Y/N.” 

Yoongi finishes his rant, and he’s breathing heavily and his heart’s beating out of his chest and he doesn’t know what to do next because you’re just standing in front of him, eyes wide, cheeks a dark shade of red, and your heart ready to burst out of your ribcage at his confession.

For someone who’s a creative writing major, for someone who’s so good with words, you’re speechless. For the first time in your entire life, you’re speechless.

“So,” Seokjin shouts from the crowd, effectively catching both yours and Yoongi’s attention, “are you just going to stand there and keep him waiting or will you tell him you love him too?”

The crowd coos, and your eyes dart back to Yoongi’s. 

“Yoongi, I love you too.” You say simply and the crowd interrupts into cheers as Yoongi lets out a relieved sigh, stepping forward and pulling you into his embrace. Yoongi bends down to bury his face in your neck and you wrap your arms around his shoulders as he wraps his around your waist.

“Thank God you love me too, that would’ve been so embarrassing if you didn’t,” Yoongi whispers and you giggle.

You both pull away, and then turn to see that the crowd has dispersed, while your friends shot you thumbs ups before walking away to give you some alone time.

You look up at Yoongi, your smile bright as you see all the love and adoration Yoongi held for you.

“Well, you feed me well, Min Yoongi.” you reply, rising up on your tiptoes to kiss his nose.

“Oh yeah, let’s go get your food, I know you’re hungry.” Yoongi intertwines your fingers with his, leading you both back to the café.

“See, this is why I love you so much,” You grin, swinging your hands together.

Yoongi stops walking and turns to you. He cups your face in his hands, caressing your cheeks softly. “I love you so much, Y/N.” 

You hold onto his wrists and give him a mischievous grin. “More than your Audi?” You challenge, and Yoongi laughs heartily, kissing your forehead.

“A billion times more than my Audi.”

⇒ let me know what you think or hmu with anything under the sun here!

[deluxedolans]

Masterlist:

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💜✨💜✨💜✨💜✨💜✨💜✨💜✨💜

Warning: Fics that contain sexually explicit content will be marked with a 🔥 emoji. Read at your own discretion.

 Credits to @palmtreedolan for all edits featured.

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Grayson Dolan:

Fics:

Devil in Disguise -  In which Y/N gets caught in the middle of the Jeremiglio prank as Ethan tries to trick Grayson into thinking there’s an intruder on their property. Word Count: 3k+

Sweet Dreams - In which you and Grayson go through your nightly routine. Word Count: 1k+

Make it Nasty -  When the song that you and Grayson always dance to at every party comes on and you’re nowhere to be found, how does Grayson react? Based off of the My Girl series, specifically this blurb. Word Count: 4.5k+

Be My Escape Mini Series - College!Grayson and Y/N recall their memories of how they became friends and eventually lovers in college Word Count: 2k

Part 1

Part 2

Drabbles/Blurbs:

My Girl Series - (A series about frat!Grayson trying to protect his girl who isn’t really his girl.) 

My Girl (Part 1) - A drabble about frat!grayson protecting his girl who accepts a drink from someone she shouldn’t have.

My Girl (Part 2) - Frat!Grayson getting jealous over guys at a party checking out his girl.

My Girl (Part 3) - Frat!Grayson punches a hole in the wall when he sees you kissing someone else. 

Bratty Behavior - Grayson teases you in an attempt to squash your sassy attitude. 🔥

Safe & Sound - A drabble about boyfriend!Grayson just wanting to be sure that you’re safe when you go out for a GNO.

“Can you just man up and change his diaper?” - A drabble about daddy!grayson nervous to change his son’s diaper.

“Why did we have to have kids?” - A drabble about Grayson contemplating his ability to be a dad.

“You’re so clingy, I love it.” - A drabble about Grayson taking care of you hungover after your birthday party the previous night.

“You look pretty hot in plaid.” - A drabble about you going to a Halloween party to meet Grayson in your cute and fresh schoolgirl costume.

“Did they hurt you?” - A drabble about how daddy!grayson can be overprotective of his three-year-old daughter.

“I’m your husband. It’s my job.” - A drabble about Grayson comforting you regarding to the massive amounts of stress you’ve been facing.

“We need groceries, not just junk food. You’re worse than the kids.” - A drabble about daddy!grayson buying just a little too much junk food.

Greaser!Grayson - A drabble about protective!greaser!grayson going to a rumble to defend your honor.

“Are you cheating on me?” - A drabble about you thinking Grayson is cheating on you when he is just trying to surprise you for your birthday.

Betty Crocker Bailey - A drabble about you and Grayson preparing to host your first thanksgiving together.

Relax - A drabble about you being frustrated with Grayson when he tries to confront you about your stress.

Love Bug - A drabble about daddy!Grayson being left home alone with his newborn for the first time.

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Ethan Dolan:

Fics:

Your Nest - In which you describe your favorite place in the world, your boyfriend, Ethan’s lap. Word Count: 3k+

Running Through The Fire -  In which you ask Ethan if he’d be interested in having rough sex. Word Count: 12k+ 🔥

Clara Grace Series  - A series about Ethan’s daughter who is both sunshine personified and hell on wheels):

Met His Match - A drabble about Ethan’s daughter who happens to be just as stubborn as he is.

Star of the Show (Continuation of Met His Match) -  Ethan’s daughter, Clara, just wants to give her baby cousin a present, but nothing is ever easy with Ethan’s most stubborn child.

Green Monster - Ethan’s daughter, Clara Grace, already has a little brother, but how will she react when she finds out her momma is expecting a little girl? 

Sweet Girl - Ethan’s daughter, Clara Grace is having a tough time at school; but not for the reason that he thinks.

The Bright Idea - Ethan is incredibly hungover and Clara Graces tries to help him the only way she knows how.

Drabbles/Blurbs:

Surprise Motherfucker - Ethan has been beyond grumpy since you’ve been away at college, so in response, Grayson buys you tickets to come home early to surprise Ethan.

Home - A drabble about Ethan proposing to you during the holidays.

Bigger Than Us - A drabble about you and Ethan getting into an argument and Ethan praying he doesn’t lose you.

“The Skirt is Supposed to be That Short.” - A drabble about protective Ethan concerned about guys checking you out at a Halloween party.

“I’m your husband, it’s my job.”  - A drabble about daddy!Ethan coming home to chaos between you and your kids.

“You’re cute when you’re worried.” -  A drabble about a trick gone wrong with the boys.

“That wasn’t very subtle.” - A drabble about you trying to drag Ethan’s attention away from Fortnite after he wakes you up at 2 AM.

“HOLY MOTHERF- IT BIT ME!” - You and Ethan babysit Grayson’s son.

“How long have you been standing there?” - A drabble about when you’re drunk and confess how much you love your boyfriend, Ethan.

“You’re going out dressed like that?” - A drabble about Ethan getting jealous regarding the Halloween costume you selected to wear.

“We’re fighting, don’t touch me.” (Part 2 to “You’re going out dressed like that?”) - A drabble about jealous Ethan at a Halloween party, only, does he even have the right to be jealous?

“Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?” - A drabble about Ethan finding you naked in his bed after you come home from a night out for your sister’s birthday.

Double Teamed - A drabble about Grayson and Cam convincing Ethan that he’s ready to have another kid.

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[phirephox666]

Weekly Fic Recs - BNHA

This is gonna be an experiment in, you know, actually doing something with my disaster of a blog. So! Weekly Fic Recs. Because I read, and have read, a fuckton of fic, and I like sharing. These are all BNHA and Bakugou-centric.

Weekly Rec Lists - More BNHA Recs

Beyond You and I by IvoryCrow 

Bakugou/Midoriya, Bakugou & Midoriya, Bakugou & Kirishima, Bakusquad, WIP, 8.5k

He has always known that Izuku Midoriya will undeniably become the best hero of their time. There was no amount of bullying he could ever inflict upon him to change that. But he never realized that this fate was strongly dependent on the existence of Katsuki Bakugou.

(In which Katsuki was born with a second, more subtle quirk.)

Honestly just a really interesting premise. I love the idea of secondary or subtle quirks and this is a neat execution of the idea. I like the interpretation of Bakugou in this, and I appreciate the focus on the friendships, not just the romance. I’m really enjoying this fic so far. 

More Than One Hero by verymerrysioux

Bakugou & Midoriya, Bakugou & Kirishima, Bakugou & Shinsou, Midoriya & Kirishima, Midoriya & Shinsou, Kirishima & Shinsou, Friendship/Gen, Crossover/Fusion, Reincarnation AU, WIP, 31k

Bakugou Katsuki is an odd child, quiet and unassuming at first glance. One wouldn’t think he’d have the makings of a hero. The people who actually know him say otherwise.

His parents will say he collects a lot of odd things, likes to make too many unnecessary explosions (quirk or not), and can be so quiet that people won’t know he’s there. His childhood friend will say he’s a little weird, switches from polite speech to swears-a-lot at the drop of a hat, and has the habit of giving things away as much as he collects them. His classmates and teachers in U.A will say he’s too nosy for his own good, rummages through all the pots in the campus way too much, and is often unfazed by anything thrown his way. No matter how bizarre it may be.

Regardless, they all think he’ll be a great hero.

The most ridiculous, wonderful thing. This fic is hilarious and amazing and such a strange concept. But it works! Fun and interesting and wildly weird. There’s also some really well done serious moments. The entire fic feels very organic and well done. Poor All Might, though, he’s not prepared for any of this nonsense. 

Slow to Start (But Quick to Burn) by mousapelli

Kirishima/Bakugou, A/b/o Dynamics, Complete, 29k

Bakugou is loud, abrasive, and way too strong to be a “good” omega, and he doesn’t give half a damn if that’s what everybody else thinks. The good news is that Kirishima is 100% into him just the way he is. The bad news is he might be 150% into Kirishima

I enjoy A/b/o and I really enjoy this sort of trope subversion. A really good build between Kirishima and Bakugou into a relationship. Not a bad integration of A/b/o into the Bnha universe, without just slapping Alpha/Omega labels on everyone and calling it good. 

believe in me, believe in you by gold_rush

Bakugou & Todoroki, Bakugou & Midoriya, Friendship/Gen, Complete, 4.6k

Katsuki accidentally sees evidence of Todoroki’s abuse and he is FURIOUS.

Should probably be subtitled “Bakugou Katsuki wants to drop kick Endeavor in the face”. Has some of my favorite stuff in it, protective Bakugou and Parental Aizawa. Also, some really solid Bakugou and Midoriya interaction. 

Put the Meat on My Bones by wonduhwoman

Bakugou/Midoriya/Uraraka, Bakugou & Shinsou, Bakugou & Kirishima, Bakugou & Todoroki, Aged Up Midoriya & Uraraka, WIP,  42k

“Dude,” Kirishima said, “How much did he tip you?”

Katsuki glanced down at his hand clutching the money, “Two-hundred bucks.”

Sero whistled low.

“What’s this?” Yaoyorozu asked, stealing the slip of paper off the bar before Katsuki could protest. She unfolded it, eyes widening, “He gave you his number, Bakugou! He even drew a winky face next to it!”

The consequences of Midoriya and Bakugou not growing up and going to UA together. Well executed AU, and some really great characterization all around. I love the friendships between Bakugou and Shinsou, but also the friendships between Bakugou and class 1A. Very solid writing, and just a very enjoyable fic so far. 

Adventures with Bakugou by SatyrSyd37

Bakugou & Class 1A, Gen/Friendship, WIP, 21k

Class 1-A learns a lot from Bakugou, and Bakugou learns a lot from them.

‘Field trips with Zuko’ style adventures with Bakugou and each of the 1-A kiddos.

I just enjoy this concept immensely. Bakugou and 1A growing and learning together. Also, a little bit of exploration of some of the characters that don’t get as much screen-time in canon is always welcome. 

Exception by saruma_aki

Bakugou-centric, Bakugou & Kirishima, Bakugou/Kirishima, Complete, 4.8k

Bakugou knew that certain things Kirishima would never personally agree with, just like the same applied for Bakugou in regards to Kirishima. But it was why they worked together so well.

Kirishima never hesitated to call Bakugou out on shit, and Bakugou always returned the favor. They engaged in their own personal sort of system of checks and balances, keeping each other in line, providing a unique sort of support.

They were each other’s best friend.

I really, really appreciate fics that deal with the fact that chaining up a fifteen year old in front of millions of people is a terrible idea and probably traumatizing. The fact that it was done by teachers that are supposed to be trusted authority figures is just… a thousand times worse. An excellent look at some of that. 

the world you keep erasing by Slumber

Bakugou/Kirishima, Bakugou & Midoriya, Soulmate AU, Platonic Soulmates,  Complete, 4.2k

Katsuki doesn’t remember a world without color.

He fucking hates it.

The soulmate AU where you can’t see colors before you meet your soulmate. Nice trope subversion and platonic soulmate bits. 

Valentine’s day chocolate is (not) overrated by Poteto

Bakugou/Kirishima, Bakusquad, Fluff, Complete, 5.2k

Bakugou thinks Valentine’s day is a bullshit holiday for bullshit people that spend money on useless sweets. However, if Kirishima wants chocolate that bad…

Super fluffy, super sweet, and super cute. Some really great Bakusquad interaction as well. I like the characterization of a slightly older Bakugou as well. 

Damned Chat-Fic by ooopo123

Bakusquad OT5, Iida/Midoriya/Todoroki, Chat Fic, WIP, 12.8k

5cent Pikachu: Okay! Now that we’re all assembled!

Jacked Up: Tell this Pokemon kin that Mother Mother is better than Of Monsters and Men

5cent Pikachu: N O — A class 1-A chat-fic that’s mostly Baku-Squad centric! Featuring a polyamorous Baku-Squad and other LGBT characters!

Bakusquad OT5 with super sweet interactions between them. Some really, really good class 1A interactions as well. I enjoy the backstories for the different characters. 

What Goes Around by AnglophilicSins

Bakugou & Class 1A, Bakugou-centric Ace Bakugou, WIP, 12k

Five times Bakugou Katsuki looked after his classmates and one time his classmates looked after him.

intertwined by crunchrapsupreme

Bakugou/Kirishima, NSFW, Complete, 6.4k

Kirishima asks Bakugou out in the beginning of April.

– (a study of kiribaku through the seasons)

Stray Bullet by AnonymousTwit

Bakugou & Midoriya, Bakugou & Kirishima, Bakugou & Class 1A, Bakugou-centric, Parental Aizawa, Parental All Might, Complete, 13k

Pushing through the crowd of students, the first thing he noticed was blood on the table. As he grew closer, he caught a small glimpse of Midoriya, his shoulders shaking so violently that they could cause an earthquake and eyes carrying so many emotions that it was absolutely dizzying.

Or

In which there’s a sniper attack at U.A. and Bakugou decides to do something selfless for once.

Bakugou is just a super-cool character and I love fics that focus on that. He has the potential to be a really great hero. Also, I just love him. 

come and fly away with me by wonduhwoman

Bakugou/Uraraka, Bakugou & Kirishima, A/b/o dynamics, Complete, 3k

Katsuki is an omega and he doesn’t give a fuck.

Ochako is an alpha and all she wants is to get on his level.

He can respect that.

Part One of they say dreamers never die

can you see the fire in these eyes by wonduhwoman

Bakugou/Uraraka, Bakugou & Midoriya, Bakugou & Midoriya & Uraraka, A/b/o dynamics, Complete, 5.8k

Was it really so impossible for everyone to get along?

Yes. Yes it was.

But in the end, even Katsuki agreed that omegas should stick together.

Part Two of they say dreamers never die

laugh all the way to hell by wonduhwoman

Bakugou/Uraraka, Bakugou & Todoroki, Bakugou & Midoriya, Bakugou & Midoriya & Uraraka & Todoroki, Bakugou & Kirishima, Complete, 8k

Katsuki would never admit it to anyone, but being in a pack with Ochako and Deku was actually kind of…fun.

There was just one two-toned, socially inept problem.

Part Three of they say dreamers never die

A Fleeting Smile by AnonymousTwit

Bakusquad, Bakugou & Class 1A, Families of Choice, Friendship/Gen, WIP, 5.7k

Or a collection of fifteen Bakusquad drabbles where someone outside of the Bakusquad catches a rare glimpse of a friendlier side of Bakugou Katsuki, and one time that is specifically reserved for the four people that he hates the least.

I love this fic more and more each chapter. 

Don’t want to lose, don’t want to cry, just want to keep laughing by darkinsanity13

Bakugou & Kaminari, Friendship/Gen, Fluff, Complete, 2.3k

Kaminari just wants to know what makes Bakugou laugh.

So cute, the cutest, I love it to bunches. 

Like Crystals, They Reflect Light by AniPendragon

Bakugou/Kirishima, Bakugou & Midoriya, Bakugou & Ashido, Fluff, Friendship/Gen, Complete, 3.6k

With Christmas right around the corner, Bakugou wonders if now is the time to tell Kirishima how he feels. He’s never been good at dramatic timing, but everyone confesses during the holidays in the movies, so it should work, right?

He’s never been a coward, but fuck if this isn’t terrifying. You can’t exactly punch your feelings, after all.

Just, I adore this fic so much. The Midoriya and Bakugou interactions in this are utterly and completely perfect. The Bakugou and Ashido friendship is sweet as all get out. And Bakugou and Kirishima are adorable. 

[thedaughterofkings]

I got tagged by @clotpolesonly, thank you!!

My top 5 stories on ao3 ranked by kudos:

Of dogs and deer darcy (1065 kudos) (Sterek)

Pigtails (794 kudos) (Stackson)

Jet Black Camaro (697 kudos) (Sterek)

Homebound (551 kudos) (Merthur)

I'll be feeling fine (448 kudos) (Sterek)

My bottom 5 stories:

shining through (47 kudos) (Stoyd)

Ancient Mystery (45 kudos) (Stisaac)

The apple pie life (26 kudos) (Wincest)

Plans (19 kudos) (Wincest)

As I in slumber (19 kudos) (Allydia)

Are you surprised? Why?

Mmmhmmm... I’m not surprised at which types of stories are more or less popular, no, but let’s just go through them one by one quickly!

Of dogs and deer darcy is my most popular fic on both ao3 and tumblr, and I guess I can see why! It’s just a cute little piece of soulmark fluff :D I’m actually somewhat happily surprised that it takes the top spot on ao3, too, because I always thought that the main reason it was so popular on tumblr was that it got reblogged by BNFs, so it’s lovely to see that the fic itself appeals, even when not promoted by people more popular than me^^

Pigtails really was a surprise! It was my first time writing Stackson and I was overwhelmed by how hard this fandom goes for its ship! I hadn’t really been in much contact with Stackson before writing this, never really thought about those two together until I got the prompt that inspired that fic and so I just worked through my issues with those two and those two in a relationship all on my lonesome while writing this fic and then I published it and was blown away by the positive response! So thank you, Stackson fandom, you are awesome!

Jet Black Camaro is another surprise! Not so much because of its plot - it’s a 5+1 of Derek’s family embarrassing him in front of Stiles and totally cramping his style, so nothing problematic there, but because I wasn’t really happy with this fic when writing it! I spent ages agonising over it and really not being happy how it turned out, and I was still not completely happy when I finally published it, so I didn’t expect it to get popular at all! So that was a lovely surprise!

Homebound! I’m super happy that Homebound is up there because I really love how that fic turned out! It was originally supposed to be just five sentences long - part of an ask game where @loverofcake gave me the first sentence of a fic and I was supposed to write the next five - well, those “five” sentences were 500 words long and the fic ended up 12k long in the end, so I failed that challenge, but I got a wonderful (in my unbiased opinion :p) fic out of it, so thank you again for that first sentence, Clara! I hadn’t written much Merthur before that, just small ficlets on tumblr, so I didn’t know what to expect from posting this on ao3, so I’m really happy at the popularity of it!

I'll be feeling fine, finally. This one certainly has time on its side, it was the fourth fic I ever published on ao3, more than three years ago now! So it has had time to rack up the kudos, but it has also been very consistently gaining kudos over the years (two more just yesterday!), so it can’t be just age that keeps it in the top five^^ It’s set in the once upon a time very popular Neckz’n’Throats Universe (and really, fandom, when did we start forgetting about Neckz’n’Throats???? Gimme more of it, please!!), and has mates and fangboners and oh my! It’s ridiculous, but I’m also still ridiculously fond of it, so I’m glad that my readers seem to be fond of it, too :D

Now to the sadder end of the scale, the five least popular ones. Not very surprisingly, it’s all rare pairs and/or unpopular formats/topics down there.

shining through is the latest fic I have posted on AO3, so I’m hoping it’ll still gain some notes and creep upwards a little. It’s a cute Stoyd with tattoos and a bit of silent pining and first kisses??? Please read it and love it? Though shining through moving up in the ranks will unfortunately mean that where the heart is is going to be in the bottom five again which I’m very sad about. While posting this fic was the worst experience I’ve had so far on ao3 (and I’m still really mad about that), it is still my personal fix it fic, subtitled “Derek loves everyone, and everyone loves Derek” and I wish it would get so much more love than it has gotten so far! But you can’t force people to love fics, so I’ll just have to learn to live with its unpopularity, I’m afraid. Though I have gotten the most wonderful comments on it, so if people read it and love it, they truly seem to love it, so that makes me happy at least!^^

Ancient Mystery being down there isn’t hugely surprising either - it wasn’t posted that long ago either and it’s just this really short, ridiculous ficlet of Stisaac singing What does the fox say with a bunch of kids - cute, but not particularly profound. It is cute, though!!

The apple pie life and Plans belong together, so I’ll deal with them together, too. Those two are first of all Wincest, which will put some people off, then they are set in the ABO universe, which puts some more people off (though it really is the most fascinating universe!!!!), and then they are true old school drabbles, so just exactly 100 words each, and adding all of that together, it really is not a huge surprise to find them almost at the very bottom. They were more of a writing exercise for me, too, so I’m not too bummed out about them not being popular, though.

Sadly last, but not least is As I in slumber. It’s an Allydia fic set just after the 3b finale, so it deals with major character death and grief, and my tagging game wasn’t very strong back then, so I’m not surprised not many people click on this fic. It is supposed to be a sort of fix-it fic, but neither summary nor tags make that clear, so yeah, it’s probably mostly my fault that it hasn’t gotten much attention. Add to it that this was written literally years ago, and I’m not sure I actually want it to attract much attention now!^^° Still though, I like it, and it is a sort of fix it fic (I certainly entertained thoughts of adding to it, turning it into a proper fix it once upon a time), so go read it :DD

Optional: What is the average number of notes on your fics?

I’m not going to count up the notes on all of my tumblr fics (and honestly, that average would probably make it cry, because many of my fics struggle to break past 20 notes - too many rare pairs? *sighs*), but my fics on ao3 get an average number of 274 kudos! Which isn’t too bad, I think! It’s certainly not a big number compared to many other authors, but it’s a nice enough number for me! :D

What is today’s date in case you do this again?

August 14th 2017

And finally, I tag my Sterek chat group :D @fandom-madnessess, @daydreams-and-memories, @chortu, @d-athanasi, @stilesbansheequeen, @stilesinwonderland