#exam season is Almost over and i can take a whole weekend off now!!

[carewyncromwell]

Back to School Challenge // hosted by @cursebreakerfarrier​​

🍻𝟕𝐭𝐡 𝐒𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑: 𝑭𝑹𝑬𝑬 𝑷𝑬𝑹𝑰𝑶𝑫!🍻

“Singing Radiohead at the top of our lungs With the boombox blaring as we're falling in love... I got a bottle of whatever, but it's gettin' us drunk, Singing, ‘Here's to never growing up!’ We'll be running down the street, yelling ‘Kiss my ass!’ I'm like, ‘Yeah, whatever, we're still living like that...’ When the sun's going down, we'll be raising our cups, Singing, ‘Here's to never growing up!’” ~“Here’s to Never Growing Up” by Avril Lavigne

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Content warning: underage drinking and more than a few swears 💙

x~x~x~x

The end of OWL season was a relief to all of the fifth years in the spring of 1980. The exams had been incredibly stressful for just about everyone -- meaning everyone except Jacob Cromwell, who was almost maddeningly cheerful during most of the proceedings. Quite a few of his classmates -- including his boy best friend Duncan -- had wanted to club him over the back of the head for it. At one point, even Olivia had had to put a hand down on top of Jacob’s head and mutter very lowly in his ear -- 

“Jacob...the examiners won’t mark you down for doing your work in silence. Please, tone it down.”

Fortunately once exams were over, both Olivia and Duncan could breathe easier -- and so when Jacob came to them with yet another mad-brilliant idea he’d come up with out of nowhere, they were much more open to it.

“So I was over in the kitchens talking to Pitts -- you know, asking about his old owner’s work with dragons, for Gringotts -- and I got to thinking, the house elves sometimes have to brew their own butterbeer, when they've used all the barrels shipped in from the Three Broomsticks. And Rosmerta even now keeps adjusting her recipe, to appeal to different customers’ taste buds -- I remember she said one bloke asked her for a slightly more bitter brew, so she mixed in some rum and cloves. So I thought -- what if we tried it? Take a whole bunch of drinks -- some butterbeer, some pumpkin juice, a couple types of pop -- maybe even some firewhiskey, and just...mix ‘em up! Pour in some maple syrup or lemonade or chocolate drizzle and mix it in, and just see how they turn out!”

Duncan raised an eyebrow. “So what -- basically play ‘Mad Potionsmaster,’ but with drinks?”

“Yeah!” said Jacob brightly. 

Olivia considered this with a smile. “It does sound like it could be fun. You two are both really good at Potions...and Jacob, you’re not bad when it comes to food, either. Even Rosmerta liked that one idea you had to mix in almond milk with her usual butterbeer draft....”

Duncan brought a hand up to his mouth thoughtfully. “...I guess so...”

He smirked. “...Okay -- let’s do it.”

Jacob threw his arms around both of his friend’s shoulders, grinning from ear to ear in delight and excitement. 

“All right! So the first thing to do is to get ourselves some proper drinks to mix. Butterbeer’s a given, of course, but if we’re gonna get anything a bit more exciting, we’ll probably need access to the Hog’s Head...the bartender’s a swell chap, I’m sure he’d be willing to look the other way if I do him a favor or two, just like whenever we’ve smuggled stuff back before...”

“We’ll have to hash out how we’ll smuggle in more than just firewhiskey back, though,” Olivia pointed out lightly. “And how we plan to avoid Filch -- there are no more Hogsmeade weekends coming up, so we’d be going on a non-school-sanctioned trip.”

“We have the passage behind the mirror on the fourth floor!” Jacob suggested eagerly. “That one’ll drop us off right outside the Hog’s Head, and that way we won’t pass by Filch at all on the way back!”

“We’d also need a place to do this little ‘experiment’ where we’re not going to get caught,” Duncan added much more dryly. “Unless you plan to have me sneak into your dormroom.”

“Why not?” said Jacob with a mischievous grin. “There are no protections on the boys’ dorm, so Liv can pop over whenever. And you’re more than clever enough to solve a little riddle, aren’t you, Ashe?”

Duncan purposefully ignored the dark flush that rose in his face and scoffed. “Your commonroom really has the shoddiest security measures...”

Olivia’s face suddenly grew more thoughtful. 

“I feel like your point might be a bit double-edged, Jacob,” she said with a slight frown. “If I can pop over whenever...well, couldn’t anyone? There would be nothing to hinder other students from coming across us.”

Jacob frowned too, his eyes drifting up toward the ceiling in thought. “...Hm, right. I don’t care if anyone else runs off to snitch on us...but a teacher stepping in could put an end to the fun before it really gets started...”

Duncan’s eyes lit up at that moment. His mouth spread into a very broad, mischievous smirk. 

“Change of plans,” he said, and his face seemed to glint with an oddly devilish expression. “We’re hosting this little get-together in my dorm -- and we’re doing it next Friday.”

That next Friday was Horace Slughorn’s very last “Slug Club” party of the term, meant to “say goodbye” to those club members who would be graduating that year. Jacob had actually received an invitation to the event by Slughorn, though he’d promptly forgotten about it almost immediately, since he was so disinterested in going to parties. Duncan, however, realized that quite a few Slytherins would be at Slughorn’s party, including all of the boys he shared a dormroom with, and even if anyone did spot Jacob and Olivia in the Slytherin dorm, the Slug Club’s party would go well into the morning, so no one would be able to report them to Slughorn until the next day, at which point Olivia and Jacob would be long gone back to Ravenclaw Tower. 

“To play it extra safe, though,’ Duncan said with a smirk, “I’ll let off a Dungbomb at the base of the stairs after us, to deter anyone from coming upstairs...and there’s this charm I learned from an older student to deaden sound through the walls, so that it’ll be less likely that we’re overheard. We should be completely undisturbed until morning.”

And so the mad plan went into effect. Before the Slug Club’s party, Jacob, Duncan, and Olivia met in the hall by the mirror on the fourth floor, dressed in plain clothes with their Hogwarts robes over them. Then, in the passage, they shed their robes and took the passage underground toward Hogsmeade village, popping up in a shed just outside the Hog’s Head. Then, blending in with the other patrons, they headed into the Hog’s Head, where Jacob haggled with the bartender, Aberforth, for a good assortment of drinks. Eventually they left the bar with a bottle each of butterbeer, firewhiskey, Waldorf’s Welsh Green Rum, Vappa’s Classic Vodka, Otter’s Fizzy Orange Juice, and lemon-lime pop. When they got back to the passage, Olivia used a Sticking Charm to attach two bottles each to the sides of her, Jacob’s, and Duncan’s legs, so that when they put their robes back on, the bottles were obscured under the billowing black folds. By the time they climbed out of the passage and headed down to the Slytherin commonroom, Slughorn’s party was already getting underway, which gave Jacob, Olivia, and Duncan the perfect opportunity to stop by the Hogwarts kitchens, pick up another bottle each of Gillywater and pumpkin juice and a small container each of strawberry jam, sugar cubes, and maple and chocolate syrup, and sneak into the Slytherin commonroom. 

“So this is your pad!’ said Jacob delightedly, upon seeing Duncan’s dormroom for the first time. 

He immediately darted over to the window through which one could see the murky Black Lake so he could plaster his hands on the glass and peek into the dark water. 

“It’s a lot darker than the Ravenclaw commonroom,” Olivia said thoughtfully, as Jacob’s nose pressed comically against the glass. “It must be kind of hard to read in here...”

“Not if you light some candles,” Duncan said dryly. “Or if you read by the fireplace -- that’s a good place to study.”

He shot Jacob a rather dull look. “Jacob, take your face off the glass -- I don’t need anyone wondering who made out with my window.”

Jacob peeled his face away from the window at last, shooting Duncan a rather wry grin. “Hey, what can I say? The Black Lake’s pretty gorgeous. D’you know if it’s single?”

“Single? Ha,” Duncan said very coolly. “As if you were in its league.”

“How many leagues would it be, I wonder?” teased Jacob. “I think leagues are supposed to be something akin to miles, except at sea...do you reckon the Black Lake would even be a mile deep?”

“I don’t know, but I’d say we’ll be in deep water ourselves, if you don’t put up those precautions, Duncan,” Olivia said lightly. 

Duncan’s face grew more serious. “Right.”

He removed the bottles of vodka and rum from his legs and put them down on the rug in front of his bed.

“I’ll be right back -- don’t blow anything up until I get back.”

Jacob laughed. “Awwww! But I thought we could try to make our own variation on Exploding Lemonade, Ashe!”

“Do it after I come back, then,” Duncan shot back over his shoulder with a smirk of his own before he headed out to put up the proper wards and chuck a Dungbomb down the stairs.

About a half hour later, the three students were mixing up drinks like mad scientists and daring each other to drink them. A good chunk of them turned out disgusting -- the vodka/Gillywater/Fizzy Orange Juice/chocolate sauce variant made all three of them nauseous -- but on the other hand, more than a few turned out kind of good! Olivia’s Fizzy Orange spiked with vodka and pumpkin juice wasn’t bad, and Duncan ended up mixing and chugging a whole glass of his combination of butterbeer mixed with firewhiskey and maple syrup. Jacob even came up with a brand new drink of his own -- a fusion of Waldorf’s Welsh Green Rum, lemon-lime pop, and a shot of Vappa’s Classic Vodka -- which he, Olivia, and Duncan all passed around several times.

“Hey -- I got a -- got a name for it!” Jacob said with a way too big, dorky grin. His voice was slightly higher pitched and rocked up and down in volume and pitch as if he were on a see-saw. “Here it is, here it is -- a Vodka Kedavra. Get it? Get it? ‘Cause it’s green...”

“Nice one, Jacob,” sniggered Duncan.

The Slytherin seemed to be a lot less critical of Jacob, when he was drunk. And also more “touchy” -- he’d played with Olivia’s hair a few times, and he kept resting his head on Jacob’s shoulder, even while talking more loudly in his ear.

“Like its namesake, this drink will fuck all of us over in the end,” said Olivia, toasting the two of them with a very broad, but thoroughly cynical smile. “Once we leave school...”

She had, oddly enough, seemed to dip into a lot of dark humor and swearing, under all of the alcohol’s influence -- she’d even reached for the guitar she’d brought with her and started writing random, swear-filled tunes about nothing at several points, including this one.

“Avada Kedavra -- Avada Kedavra --

The delight of all fuck-ups and screw-ups and dicks --

Avada Kedavra -- a Vodka Kedavra

Is what I will need to get through all of this!”

“Bravo!” said Duncan loudly, as he and Jacob clapped. “Bravo! Encore!”

“Shut the fuck up,” laughed Olivia.

“Just saying, though -- I’m not going down without a real fight!” Jacob said brightly, as he started mixing the butterbeer, firewhiskey, rum, and vodka all together.“If old Moldy Shorts wants at me, I’ll take him on!”

“Of course you would,” said Olivia with another cynical smile. “And you’d probably be teasing him over his lack of a nose the whole time, you absolute wanker...”

“I love watching you duel, Jacob,” Duncan said as Jacob drank from the glass he’d just mixed together and pulled a face. Duncan clumsily brought an arm around Jacob’s waist and pulled him closer to him. “You’re always so witty when you duel...”

“And you’re so nice when you’re drunk, Ashe!” said Jacob, passing him the drink he’d mixed together with another dorky grin. “You should drink all the time!”

Duncan took a long swig that made him see stars, once he’d lowered the glass. “Only with my bbbbest friends...”

He got right up in Olivia’s face as he tried to loop an arm around her too. Olivia, though, snatched the glass Jacob had given Duncan and wiggled out of his reach.

“Fuck off, your breath smells like shit,” she said good-naturedly. She took a sip too, and she gave a loud choke. “JACOB! That’s absolute...RUB-bish...!”

Jacob laughed.

“Now we all smell like shit!” he said very brightly and way too loudly.

“I think wwwwe smell brilliant!” said Duncan. “You’re bbboth brilliant! I love youuu guys...”

Not long later, all three students had passed out on the floor around Duncan’s four poster, Olivia resting her head on Duncan’s shoulder, Jacob half-sitting in Duncan’s lap, and Duncan wrapping his arms around both of them.

When they were woken up very early the next morning by the rest of Duncan’s dormmates finally getting in from Slughorn’s party and reacting loudly to the Dungbomb smell on the stairs, all three students had such a killer headache that they couldn’t summon up any kind of genius plan to avoid getting caught. So in the end, Duncan did what any child trying to hide something from the adults would do -- he hid all the bottles and rubbish under his bed. As for Olivia and Jacob, Duncan pulled the curtains around his four poster bed, so as to hide all three of them inside until later that morning.

“FFFFFudge, my head hurts,” growled Duncan.

“Mine too,” Olivia moaned very softly.

“It was that bloody Vodka Kedavra of yours, Jacob,” Duncan said irritably. “I must’ve downed at least five of those...”

Jacob buried his face in Duncan’s pillow with a groan. “I am not using that name again -- it’s so beyond not funny...”

“They say misery...” Olivia turned her head toward the far wall away from Jacob and swallowed back the urge to vomit, “...is the root of all humor, Jacob.”

“S’not funny,” Jacob moaned again into Duncan’s pillow.

Duncan fumbled around for his wand on his nightstand through the curtains. Once he’d found it, he used Muffliato to deaden the sound both inside and outside his curtains, before falling back onto the pillows on the other side of Jacob.

“No classes tomorrow morning,” he said groggily. “I’m gonna need to brew us a couple dozen Wiggenweld Potions, once I’m halfway alive...”

Jacob’s voice came out muffled through the pillow.

“What?” said Duncan.

“Water,” Jacob shifted his head and repeated in just as dizzy and nauseous-sounding voice as the other two. “We need to flush out the ethanol in our bloodstream, and the best way to do that is drink lots of water. We’ll also want to boost our glucose levels with carbs and sugars, to help fight off the subsequent fatigue.”

Duncan goggled at Jacob. “Did you seriously research hangover cures, before we did this?”

Jacob gave him a weak smile that ended up more like a grimace. “Hey...I was curious.”

Olivia smiled slightly as she rested her head beside Jacob’s on the pillow and closed her eyes. “Well, thank Merlin for your curiosity, Jacob. For now, though...let’s try to get some sleep.”

Jacob took the advice without any argument, woozily settling back onto Duncan’s pillow in such a way that he unknowingly ended up with his face in the crook of Duncan’s neck.

With a flush, Duncan watched Jacob sleep for a moment, his dark eyes flitting over to Olivia as well before returning to Jacob. Then, very slowly, Duncan eased himself down too, bringing an arm up and over his pillow so that it rested over both of his friend’s heads, and lay his head on top of Jacob’s as he closed his eyes.

Honey. Jacob’s shampoo smelled like honey.

Sadly the three did end up getting caught by Slughorn, when Duncan tried and failed to smuggle his friends back out of the Slytherin dormroom that morning when he thought all of the other students had left. The three received detention for an entire week for breaking commonroom rules, but fortunately no one ever found out about their wild night of underage drinking. And honestly, a week’s worth of detentions wasn’t the worst thing ever -- just another memory the three thought they’d be able to laugh about, in hindsight.

Little did Jacob, Duncan, and Olivia know that this fun little bit of teenage misbehavior would be the last happy memory they’d share for a very long time.

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #back to school challenge 2022 #jacob cromwell #olivia green #duncan ashe #horace slughorn #my writing #aesthetic #yeah after this olivia gets petrified in the sunken vault :'( #and then yeah from then on jacob and duncan are pretty squarely in r's cross-hairs #last part of the challenge I'll try to finish up tonight </3

[ptergwen]

through the lens

w/c: 2.3k

warnings: swearing and mentions of blood (all fluff tho!)

summary: yours and peter’s date night doesn’t go as planned, thanks to his “little” accident and mj’s photography project

a/n: it’s been a minute but i’m back! for now lol i promise i’ll be way more active when exam season is over <3 this was based off the lovely pic above taken by the even lovelier zendaya and i hope you enjoy these… let’s call it random workings of my mind

-

“hang on, can you come closer?” mj instructs you, you promptly stepping towards her. “is this good?” “great,” she affirms and squints behind the camera. “smile really big on the count of three, okay? one, two, three!” doing as she says, you give mj your cheesiest grin with your eyes squeezed shut and all. she snickers while snapping the moment on her polaroid.

mj asked you to be her subject for a photography project. you’re happy to do it, although it’s super last minute. like, barging-into-your-room-and-begging-you-for-help last minute. she was supposed to turn this in days ago. lucky for mj, her teacher was feeling generous and gave her an extension.

you have to work fast because of mj’s deadline and your plans with peter. he’s coming over for a movie marathon and cuddles right about now. well, he’s actually running a tad bit late. that’s typical peter for you.

“just a couple more, and then you’re free,” mj informs you while shaking out the polaroid. “this is honestly pretty fun, you know.” you glance at the photo she’s holding with an eyebrow quirked in surprise. she captures you well. “what made you choose me?” “no one else was free on a saturday,” she snorts and tosses the picture in a pile with the rest.

your mouth falls agape. “i’m not free! peter’s gonna be here in…” you check the time on your phone, much to your dismay. “he’s a few minutes late, but still. i have things to do, too.” a smirk sets on mj’s face as she gets ready for the next photograph. “relax, y/n/n. i was kidding. i’m sure spider-dweeb will be here sooner than you know it.” sighing lightheartedly, you take a seat on your bed.

“don’t call him that,” you shake your head. mj throws her own head back to the ceiling. “ugh, but that was a good one,” she insists, you only humming. “it’s better than penis parker, at least.” “nah, i like the alliteration,” you laugh out and earn a giggle from mj. “you’re lucky parker doesn’t have super hearing, or does he?” winking, you hit a pose for mj. you’re looking at her over your shoulder with smolder eyes.

“ask him yourself, after you get this shot.”

the two of you continue messing around with her polaroid until the film is almost gone, and peter has yet to arrive. you’re starting to worry. you aren’t sure where he could be.

he doesn’t patrol on weekends unless it’s an emergency, and he would’ve told you if there was one already. he’s never this late without sending a text, either. it’s almost an hour past when date night should’ve started. on the other occasions peter has gone off the grid, they didn’t end well.

“i’m freaking out, em. do you think he’s in some kind of trouble?” you ask mj, pacing around your bedroom. she offers a sympathetic shrug. “maybe he just ate some bad yogurt. remember last time?” being the dummy he is, peter once scarfed down an entire tub of vanilla yogurt before he realized it was expired. no one heard from him for days. he didn’t show up to school or answer any calls.

may ended up inviting you over and explaining he’d gotten a stomach bug, which you then tended to him for the rest of. the story was so amusing, and so peter.

“may doesn’t buy him dairy anymore. why do you think he always raids your freezer?” you bring your fingers up to rub your temples. “the kid can empty ice cream cartons in one bite,” she agrees, silently cringing. her curiosity piques at the fact. “is that also a power?” “who cares?” you nearly shout, your fingers curling into fists. “what i wanna know is if peter is fucking okay.”

on cue, there’s a knock at your apartment door. you and mj exchange looks of urgency, both rushing out of your room to answer.

mj follows you through the hall and stands by your side while you fumble with the lock. when your door pulls open, ned has his hand raised to knock again. “ned? what are you doing here?” you don’t give him the chance to speak. “have you heard from peter? he was supposed to be here a while ago, but he never showed.” rather than answering in words, ned takes a step aside.

the sight you’re met with makes you gasp. peter peeks out from behind him, cuts and bruises littering his flushed face. he gives you a lopsided smile.

“you have your answer,” mj murmurs to you and eyes ned curiously. he lets out a nervous chuckle. “here he is.” you push past ned and practically jump into peter’s arms, your hug bone-crushing. “peter, oh my god! are you okay?” wincing, peter hugs you back by your waist. his chin rests carefully on your head.

“hey… i’m alright, baby. still pretty sore, though,” he sucks his lower lip between his teeth. you take the hint to loosen your grip on him. “i was worried something bad might’ve happened to you. i… i guess i was right.” your tone softens, you threading a hand in his curls. they’re completely disheveled from whatever went down with him.

ned heads inside to catch up with mj, the two of them letting you have a moment alone.

“someone’s got a spidey sense of their own, huh?” peter tries to lighten the mood by joking. it doesn’t work, a frown still evident on your face as you try to untangle his once soft locks. “baby, everything’s fine. i just… had a little accident is all. no big deal,” he reassures you and moves in to peck your lips. you’re so shocked that you dodge the kiss.

“little? your whole face is black and blue, pete!” you tug on the white collar of his button up, peter letting out a shaky breath. your other hand comes to rest on his cheek, touch gentle. “how’d you get like this?” he licks across his lips shyly and sets his hands on your hips. “see, on the way over there were these bad guys who-“

“no there weren’t,” ned cuts in, scoffing at the beginning of his friend’s story. peter shoots him a warning look over your head. “yes there were, ned. you weren’t even there!” he catches mj glaring at him before he continues. “don’t listen to him. anyway, i had to fight them because…” when he trails off, you stroke your thumb across his cheek, avoiding any wounds in the way. raising both eyebrows, mj speaks up.

“because why? go on, parker. i’m intrigued,” she encourages him. everyone can tell peter is lying except you. the question really is, what’s he lying about? he gulps down his spit, pulling your body against his for comfort. “take your time, peter. we can wait,” you say only for him to hear. his love filled eyes meet yours, and he nods. ned huffs at the dramatics unfolding before him.

“dude, you’re making this way worse than it actually is. just tell her!” he demands, mj cocking her head to the side. peter’s gaze flits between the two of them. “tell me what?” you wonder softly and tilt his chin, willing him to look at you again. “i… i…” peter’s shoulders slump, his voice lowering in defeat. “there weren’t any bad guys.”

“of course there weren’t,” ned confirms. “no shit,” mj adds. exhaling, you wait for your boyfriend to further elaborate. “what really happened, then? be honest, pete.” peter lets go of you so he can come into your apartment properly, you shutting the door behind him. he scratches the back of his neck as he fills you in. “ok. um, me and ned were hanging out.”

ned is attempting to stifle a laugh for some reason, which mj elbows him for. you take one of peter’s hands. “yeah?” “we were at my place, and… you know those really slippery steps on the sixth floor?” peter pauses for someone to answer, playing with your fingers. “the ones flash almost wiped out on once?” mj questions in amusement. he lets a quiet chuckle out. “good times. yeah, those.”

his gaze averts to the ground, you listening on. “so, i was walking ned out on my way over. we were talking about spidey stuff-“ “as per usual,” mj mumbles to herself. ned raises his hands in defense. “—and i told ned i could always stick my landings. he didn’t believe me.” you playfully roll your eyes, seeing where this is going. “so… i, uh, decided to show him,” peter finishes off.

“i did a, um, backflip. tripped and fell down the flight of stairs,” he finally admits to you, putting his other hand on top of your intertwined ones. “clearly, i was wrong.” his bloody face is now red from humiliation. “you didn’t trip, dude. you freaking summersaulted!” ned corrects him and bursts into laughter he’s been holding back. “idiots, both of you,” mj simply remarks.

“that’s it? why didn’t you just say that?” you almost laugh yourself. groaning, peter rests his forehead against yours. “because it’s embarrassing! i wanted you to think i’m a tough guy or whatever.” placing both hands on his cheeks this time, you nuzzle your nose against his. “you don’t have to be a tough guy to impress me, babes. you’re kind, smart, funny. makes up for you being such a klutz.”

peter cracks a grin, easily capturing your lips in the kiss he didn’t get to before. it doesn’t last long because mj gags and ned whistles at you. you’re both giggling when you pull apart, peter kissing the tip of your nose for good measure.

“you really mean that?” he checks, tucking back a strand of hair from your face. “of course. i have a thing for himbos,” you tease and poke at his bare chest. his eyes widen. “how about i get you some ice and you find our first movie?” you’re already off to the kitchen, beaming at peter. “date night’s still on?” he happily plops down on your couch, mj showing ned her pictures from earlier.

“as soon as those two get out of here,” you call loudly enough so ned and mj hear you. “yeah, yeah. we’re leaving,” mj deadpans, shoving the photos back into her portfolio. peter glances over at it curiously. “what’s that for?” “photography project,” she says and gets an idea. “i have some film left. y/n took up most of it… you losers want the rest?”

while mj coerces her way to a higher grade, you put some popcorn in the microwave for your movie marathon.

“well, i could use a new lockscreen. i’m in!” ned quickly concedes. him and mj both give peter hopeful looks. “i’m not!” he protests, squishing one of your pillows against his chest. “with my face looking like… this? forget about it.” mj walks over to him and places her portfolio on the coffee table. “what? those gashes are gnarly… in a good way, i mean,” she promises.

“painful, too,” peter murmurs. “y/n, hurry up with that ice!” mj demands, grabbing the polaroid camera from its string around her neck. you wave her off. “what i’m saying is, they’ll look sick in my portfolio.” mj forces a smile, ned looking at her weirdly. “uh, what’s the theme of your project again?” “freestyle, baby,” mj casually replies.

peter comes up with a condition that could persuade him. “if you say please, i might consider it,” he concludes, mj perking up. “please be in my project. pretty please?” she instantly requests, ned pursing his lips from behind her. peter rubs his chin. “y/n, what do you think? should i?” you pipe in from the kitchen. “yeah, so she’ll leave my house.”

“you heard the lady. i’ll do it,” peter gives in. all but squealing, mj gestures for ned to sit. “this’ll only take a few minutes. you guys are really saving my ass.” ned gets comfortable next to peter on the couch, who wants to see how far mj will really go. “aw, we are? i believe that calls for a…” ned catches on. “it comes after please…” mj picks up her camera with gritted teeth. “thank you, morons. say cheese!”

that’s the only warning peter and ned get before they’re blinded with the flash. ned does a toothy grin as he leans into peter’s side. peter musters up the best smile he can, hair a mess and cuts burning pink on his face. satisfied, mj snatches the photograph as it pops out.

“pleasure doing business with you two,” she states, you joining the three of them in the living room. you set the popcorn on the table and give peter his ice pack. he presses it to his cheek, kissing the back of your hand. “send me that!” ned reminds mj, helping himself to your bowl of popcorn. she salutes him.

“there’s my star. what do you say, y/n? wanna take one more really quick?” mj suggests, already holding up her polaroid. you take the other cushion next to peter, your head on his shoulder. “can peter be in it with me? since he’s in the modeling mood tonight.” he wraps an arm tightly around you. “let’s do it, sweetness.”

eagerly jumping in front of you two, mj crouches down to get a better angle. “on the count of three. one, two, three!” the camera clicks, and you surprise peter by laying a smooch on one of his cheeks. he’s holding the ice against his other, genuinely smiling for this picture. ned coos at you, mj showing off her work when it dries.

“how adorable,” she says sarcastically but means it. peter nods at her in appreciation, his lips brushing the side of your head. “what can i say, you’re a pro,” you compliment mj. “come on, em!” ned cheers through a mouthful of popcorn.

tonight was an unexpected and exciting mess, even if your date night did get crashed.

#peter parker #peter parker fluff #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker smut #peter parker fic #peter parker fanfiction #tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland imagine #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #tom holland smut #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfiction

[ddaengtae]

see you around || jjk

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

genre: college, strangers (idiots) to lovers, fitness instructor! jungkook, fluff, smut

word count: 13.9k

summary: you know those beautiful strangers that you admire from afar and obsess over with your friends, but know there’s about a one percent chance they’ll ever talk to you or even know who you are?  that’s precisely what jeon jungkook was to you; a piece of delicious eye candy that you could daydream about all you wanted, but had to accept that it was too unrealistic to ever happen.  or so you thought.  after an embarrassing accident at the gym that makes your worlds collide, maybe you had been wrong about your chances all along.

a/n: when i came up with this idea in my head, i guessed it would be around 5k words.  guess my hands slipped.  this is only my second bts fic, but after getting good feedback for my first one, i decided to give it another try and this is what happened.  i tried to edit closely, but there may be a few types so i’m sorry!  thanks for reading & pls lmk what you think. :)

Another week, another million reasons to be stressed.  It really seemed like that was the never-ending pattern of the college lifestyle.  The weekend was never long enough to truly allow yourself to unwind.  Sure, those two days were great, but how was two days enough to destress from the agony of multiple all-nighters to keep up with the shitload of work that all of your professors always deemed it acceptable to assign?  There was no way for you to prove it, but you believed in a conspiracy theory that all of the professors would meet up at the beginning of each semester and choose to make all of their huge assignments due on the same days just to fuck all of their students over.  There could be no other explanation for the hell that was midterms season.

While during your first two years of college you would barely be hanging on by a thread during the busiest weeks of the semester, you were now a junior and had at last adopted a regime that helped you burn off some steam when the tension became all too much.  Somewhere along the way, you started to realize that inhaling mozzarella sticks and Red Bull at two in the morning the night before an exam did very little to make you feel better and that it would probably be a better idea to take up a healthy lifestyle and better time management skills sooner rather than later.  In the process of getting your life together, one Tuesday evening in the spring of your sophomore year, one of your roommates had convinced you to accompany her to a group fitness class at the gym on campus.  To your surprise, you fell in love with it and the feeling of adrenaline and accomplishment that came along with making it through the hour.  From that day on, you vowed to yourself to make it to the gym most days of the week.

There was something about group fitness classes that made you feel much more comfortable than going to the gym and working out on your own.  Perhaps most glaringly, the classes were dominated with like-minded girls who just wanted some peace of mind for an hour.  Most of the instructors were girls too, except for a few guys who seemed to understand why a lot of women chose to avoid the rest of the gym.  It was quite unsettling to work out by yourself on the main floor and be surrounded by conceited guys who always seemed to either be undressing you with their eyes or judging you because, god forbid, you couldn’t squat three-hundred pounds like they could.  The whole place just always reeked of toxic masculinity, or so that was what you had thought until you found out about the group fitness classes that the facility also held.  They seemed to be a sort of heavenly escape from the rest of the place that resembled a fraternity initiation ceremony.

That was precisely where you found yourself this Monday evening.  In dire need of a break from studying, you found yourself sitting on the floor of the group classroom surrounded by your equipment and waiting for your favorite instructor to arrive.  The concept of a high-intensity circuit training class had initially terrified you when you first decided to try it out last semester, but it had quickly become your favorite class and one that you attended every week without fail.  It was incredibly satisfying to track your progress and watch your body evolve as you adapted to be able to lift heavier weights and make it through the cardio outbreaks without feeling like you were going to drop dead every second.

Taking a long sip of your water, your eyes remained down on your phone as you heard the door of the room open and close again.  As it was still ten minutes before class, you didn’t think much of it and assumed it was probably just more people piling into the room and rushing to get their equipment ready.

“Uh, hi guys!  The usual instructor for the class is unfortunately sick so I’m filling in for her tonight,” an unfamiliar-- but yet also eerily recognizable-- male voice echoed through the room.  “I was just recently certified so this is actually the first class I’ll be teaching here.  I promise I’ll try to live up to her hype.”  The unknown source let out an awkward laugh, which was met with relative silence from the rest of the room.

The moment your eyes moved up to fall upon the new instructor, your breath hitched in your throat, causing the water you had been attempting to drink to flow down the wrong pipe.  This wasn’t just any unmemorable college boy filling in to instruct the class.  There at the front of the room stood none other than Jeon Jungkook.  The breathtaking Jeon Jungkook was going to be leading the class and you were supposed to be able perform-- let alone breathe-- properly?  Oh no.

You and Jungkook were not friends by any means.  Hell, it was highly likely that the boy didn’t even know who you were.  You know those beautiful strangers that you admire from afar, yet know there’s about a one percent chance that they will ever know who you are or ever speak to you?  The ones you tell all of your friends about and you go out of your way to use your FBI-level stalking skills to find their social media in hopes of finding out more about them so you can daydream about your nonexistent, fantasy future together?  The ones you’re always hoping you’ll cross paths with while walking to class because even a glance of them will make your day a little more exciting and give you something to talk about with your friends?  That was what Jungkook was to you.

Jungkook had become known as ‘hot coffee shop boy’ amongst your friend group after you had noticed him studying in the same coffee shop as you one day in the fall of your sophomore year.  As you always chose to study at the least favorite and therefore least populated coffee shop on campus, it was shocking the first time someone as beautiful as Jungkook sat down at one of the tables across from yours and settled in to do his homework as well.  His presence offered you a paradox; while seeing him looking like a model wearing his oversized clothes and sighing at his laptop screen was certainly a distraction at times, it also served as a form of motivation to force you to focus because you didn’t want him thinking you were slacking off.  He seemed to enjoy the quiet ambience of the specific shop because after that first day, he began to frequent it almost as often as you, always sitting at the same table by the third window.  On some occasions, one of his friends who always seemed to be changing hair colors would accompany him.  After some research completed by your enamored friend Jennie who sometimes accompanied you, she discovered his name was Park Jimin.  He quickly became known as ‘iced chai’ after that seemed to be his regular coffee order.

It was an exciting day amongst your friends on the first day of classes in the spring of your sophomore year when Jungkook happened to enroll in the same Earth Science lecture as you to satisfy the science gen-ed requirement at your university.  Rocks and rivers weren’t exactly interesting, but the back of Jungkook’s head from the row in front of you certainly was.  The group chat really blew up the day he spun around in his chair and asked you if he could borrow a pen.  They were right that it would’ve been easier for him to just ask one of the people next to him, but you were smart enough to not think into it too much.  Maybe you just seemed like the type of person to carry around an abundance of stationery materials (you weren’t, and you ended up not taking any notes that day after giving him the only pen you had).

So here you were, practically choking on your water as Jungkook started to set up his own equipment at the front of the room.  How dare he invade your safe space?  You suddenly felt as if you barely remembered how to do a jumping jack, let alone have the facilities to pick up a weight.  

After organizing his weights at the front of the room, Jungkook’s eyes began to scan the participants in the room, likely counting how many people had shown up.  The moment his eyes met yours, your whole body froze in place.  Oddly enough, his seemed to do the same.  His doe eyes became wide and his mouth fell into an ‘o’ as he looked at you for a few seconds too long, and you swore there was an expression of recognition on his face.  Before you could convince yourself that anything of the sort had truly happened, Jungkook was blinking rapidly and shaking his head at himself before his eyes darted away to scan and count the rest of the room.

“Alright everyone, we’re going to get started in a minute here,” Jungkook announced a minute later, looking down at his phone as he connected his music and began blasting it through the speakers.  “Just remember to follow my lead and please don’t hesitate to wave me over if you have any questions or are struggling with form.  I’ll try to keep an eye on all of you and come over to help you out anyway.”  His eyes crinkled into crescent moons as he offered the class a big bunny smile.  Oh god, you were going to pass out.  “We’re going to be starting with a pretty intense cardio circuit here to bring those heart rates right up and set the tone for the rest of class.”  Great.  Your heart rate was already accelerating through the roof just at the sight of him.  “Try to keep up, but if you need to grab some water or take a break at any point, please don’t hesitate to do so.  We’re going to get started in 3… 2… 1… Go!”

To your surprise, you were able to make it through the first couple of circuits without too much trouble.  You made it your mission to zone in on each of the exercises you were doing, and that every time you were forced to face forward you would fixate your gaze on the back of the girl in front of you.  It was shockingly easy to forget about the beautiful man in front of the room while you were gasping for breath after numerous rounds of burpees and mountain climbers.  The goal was to look calm and fit without calling attention to yourself.  Outside of your heavy breathing that was likely being drowned out by Jungkook’s loud music, you could say you were succeeding.

About twenty minutes into the class, Jungkook signaled a transition into an upper body circuit.  While you were delighted to get a break from cardio and to allow your heart rate to calm down for a bit, following the exercises now required you to face forward and watch for his cues.  This would be fine as long as you didn’t focus on his gorgeous face that was currently glistening with sweat in the most pleasing way possible, right?

“Alright, we’re going to start off here with some overhead shoulder presses for the first minute.  I’d recommend something on the lighter side, but make sure you’re challenging yourself.”  With a slight nod of his head, Jungkook picked up his own weights and counted down the class to begin the first exercise of the circuit.

Shoulder presses weren’t bad.  You could do this.  Inhaling a deep breath, you made an attempt to wipe your sweaty palms off on your leggings before picking up your dumbbells and getting in position to begin your shoulder presses.  After the first few reps, you quickly fell into a rhythm that was both comfortable yet challenging, feeling that delicious burn in your shoulder muscles.  At the halfway mark through the minute, your eyes had remained glued to the same girl in front of you.  You finally felt a sense of peace.  One look at Jungkook couldn’t hurt, right?

Wrong.  

Against your better judgement, you decided to shift your eyes to the front of the room and take a good luck at a combination of both Jungkook’s back and the reflection of the front of his body through the mirror before him.  

The string of events that occurred immediately after that moment was a blur.  As Jungkook pressed his set of dumbbells above his head, his baggy shirt slid up his body, exposing his sweaty, toned abs that looked as though they were sculpted by the gods themselves.  What was likely an audible gasp escaped from your lips as your eyes remained frozen on the sight in front of you.  It was unclear if it was your mesmerized state, your sweaty hands, or a combination of both, but seconds later, the dumbbell in your right hand slipped out of your grasp and quickly went crashing downward.

“Oh my... Fuck!” 

There was a moment of dissociation before you realized that the loud cry had, in fact, come out of your mouth, and that the dumbbell that had glided out of your hand had, in fact, come crashing down onto the big toe of your right foot.  Your head was spinning as you began to process the throbbing feeling radiating throughout your entire foot, as well as the weight of what had just occurred.  Within moments, the eyes of all of the participants were on you, as well as the eyes of the one person whose attention you really did not want in such an embarrassing moment.  No, no, no.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” Jungkook’s panicked voice echoed throughout the room as he spoke into his headset and he quickly dropped his weights on the ground.  “Um, okay, the rest of you can keep going!  I’m going to get someone else to come in within a few minutes so I can help her.”  Within moments, he was shoving his way through the room until he was right in front of you and pulling the microphone away from his mouth so the rest of the class wouldn’t hear your interaction.  “Are you alright?  Oh my god, you shouldn’t be putting pressure on it.  Let’s get you out of here and get some ice.”

You genuinely thought you were going to pass out.  It had little to do with your toe, and a whole lot to do with Jungkook’s sudden closeness.  His concerned face was just inches away from yours as his eyes scanned yours for any sort of explanation for what had just unfolded.  His presence was intoxicating.  You could smell the combination of his cologne and sweat, and you had yet to tear the image of his gleaming six-pack out of your mind.  Oh my god.  That had really just happened.  The first impression you made on Jungkook, AKA hot coffee shop boy, was you making an absolute fool out of yourself and possibly breaking your toe while doing a simple exercise.  You were never going to live this one down.  You were going to throw up.

When you hadn’t responded to Jungkook within a few seconds, he took it upon himself to drape an arm over your shoulders and pull your body against his side.  “Here, lean against me so you’re not putting weight on it.  I’m going to bring you to the first-aid room and get you some ice…  At the very least.”

It was quite possible that your brain had chosen it was better to black out the memory as Jungkook began to pull you out of the room, yelling to one of the workers at the front desk to quickly find someone else to take over the class.  Your legs felt like jelly as they moved beside his, only functioning out of muscle memory rather than true volition.  Here you were, body pressed against that of the guy you had admired from afar for over a year.  In any other circumstance, this would have been like a dream come true.  Instead, you wished the ground would swallow you up and put you out of your misery.

It wasn’t long until you were pulled into what was likely the first-aid room and instructed to sit on top of the counter by a very stressed Jungkook.  The more you thought about it, the more horrible you felt.  Not only was this the Jeon Jungkook of your fantasies, but it was also the Jeon Jungkook who had informed the class before it had started that this was the first class he had ever led.  You had quite literally ruined his first class, and had set an appalling example of what he would expect going forward.  If your toe hadn’t been throbbing, you would have seriously considered running right out the door.

“Okay, if you don’t mind, just take off your shoe and sock while I try to find an ice pack,” Jungkook commanded as he nervously raked a hand through his already-messy hair, frantically rifling through the cabinets.  Your eyes watched his back as you followed his instructions, guilt filling your entire body.  He seemed stressed.  Nervous, even.  It made sense, if you thought about it.  Your foolish accident had just become his responsibility, and he was a new employee.  You would be nervous too.

“Found one,” he breathed out, hitting it against the counter a couple of times to activate the coldness.  As he turned around to face you, his eyes wandered down to your exposed toe.  “Oh no, that looks pretty swollen.  Does it hurt really badly?  Are you okay?”

“It doesn’t feel great, but I’m okay.”  No, no you were not okay, but you needed this to be over.  Meeting his eyes, you realized those were the first words you had spoken to him since this whole debacle had unraveled.  He probably thought you were crazy.  Taking the ice pack from him, you chewed on your lower lip.  “I’m… I’m really sorry.”

Jungkook furrowed his brow as he looked up from your foot to meet your gaze, tilting his head to the side.  “Huh?  You have no reason to be sorry.  Accidents happen.  I get it… I’m pretty clumsy too sometimes and have hurt myself much worse than this for much stupider reasons.  Really, don’t worry.”  He was rambling, and if you hadn’t been so distraught, you would have perhaps realized just how nervous he really seemed.  Offering you a shy smile, his eyes averted away from yours as his cheeks flushed a shade of bright red.  Redder than they should have been from just working out.

Looking down at your foot, you placed the ice pack on top of it and shook your head.  It was difficult to form words with him so close, but you knew you had to if you wanted to redeem yourself at all.  You already had created a mental plan to avoid him at all costs and hide from him whenever that wasn’t possible, but this was the least you could do.  “No, I’m really sorry.  You said at the beginning that this was your first class and I… I kind of ruined it for you.  I’m sure you were really excited about it.”

Jungkook remained occupied with your toe as he moved the ice pack to the side, feeling around the bones and moving it gently in various directions to see how bad the pain was.  “I don’t think it’s broken.  Definitely pretty swollen, but not broken.  However, I’m clearly not a doctor so you might want to get a second opinion.”  Standing up straight, he offered you a warm smile.  “But seriously, don’t worry about it.  There’s always going to be more classes for me to teach and I wasn’t just going to let you suffer there.  I’m happy to help.”

God, not only was he gorgeous, but he was also this friendly?  It was possible that he was just being nice to keep you calm and keep his job, but regardless, he just seemed so perfect.  So perfect that you feared being so close to him, for your endless flaws felt as if though they were being magnified.  Clearing your throat, you forced yourself to return the smile.  “Thanks.  I really appreciate it, but I’ll be fine.”  You needed to escape.  You needed to get out of there so you could cry to your friends about just how mortified you were and how you now really never stood a chance with hot coffee shop boy.  “I should probably get going.  Don’t want to hold you up any longer.”

“You’re not holding me up at all, I promise,” Jungkook responded a bit too quickly, but yet again, you were too focused on your own embarrassment to notice.  Crossing his arms over his chest, the tall man tilted his head to the side.  “How are you going to get back to your dorm?  Do you have a ride?  You definitely shouldn’t be walking on your toe.”

Fuck.  He had a good point.  Regardless of the pain flowing through your foot, you were willing to walk on it just to escape this situation.  However, you knew you couldn’t tell him that.  “I, uh, one of my roommates has a car and I was going to call her to pick me up.”

“I have my car here.  I could drive you.”

Wait, what?  Had he really just offered you a ride?  If you had met his gaze, you would’ve seen that he looked just as surprised that such an offer had slipped out of his lips so casually.  Instead, you stared down at your lap as you attempted to process his suggestion.  If the situation had been even slightly less humiliating, a car ride with the Jeon Jungkook would have sounded like one of your fantasies come to life.  However, at the current moment all you could imagine was the intense awkward silence that would likely fill the car as you contemplated how to successfully fling yourself out of the window.  That would not do right now.  You were not in the right headspace to muster up any coherent form of small talk.  The offer was likely just extended out of pity anyway.  He was a good guy and deemed that that would be the righteous thing to do.  No need to burden him and actually make him follow through with it.

“No, no.  I wouldn’t make you do that.  I’m going to text my friend right now,” you assured him, weakly smiling as you moved the ice pack to the side to retrieve your removed sock and shoe.  “You have a workout to finish anyway.

“It wouldn’t be any trouble,” Jungkook insisted, watching intently as you carefully put your sneaker back on and tied it up at lightning speed.  When he realized you had no plans of speaking again, a defeated sigh pressed through his lips.  Why was he so set on helping you?  “Okay, okay.  As long as your friend is coming soon, that’ll work.  I can walk you to the lobby though.”

Realizing he wasn’t going to let you just run out of the room alone, you forced yourself to nod your head in agreement.  You were being dramatic.  You could handle one more minute in his presence before you imploded.  “Sure, thanks.”  The response came off a bit snappier than you had intended, but did that really matter at this point?  You weren’t going to be able to show your face around him ever again to begin with.

Once you pushed yourself off of the counter, Jungkook encouraged you to lean most of your weight against him as he led you out the door.  As you were already on the first floor of the facility, the walk to the lobby luckily didn’t take too long.  Upon arrival, you plopped down in one of the plush chairs by the door, fishing your phone out of the pocket of your hoodie and pretending to draft a text.  In all honesty, the moment Jungkook disappeared, you intended to wobble your way back to your dorm by twisting your foot to the side to avoid putting pressure on the big toe.  You were well aware that you were going to look ridiculous, but nothing could be more mortifying than what you had already experienced.

Jungkook stood over your chair, rubbing the back of his neck as he rocked from side to side on his feet.  Something about him just exuded nervous energy, and it was making you feel even more on edge.  “You’re sure your friend is able to come soon, right?”

Nodding your head in response, you lifted your hand into a thumbs-up that you regretted the second your hand formed it.  God, you might as well have hit him with some finger guns.  Could you be any cringier?  “Yes, don’t worry.  She’s on her way.  Really, thank you though.”

Shoving his hands into the pockets of his athletic shorts, Jungkook’s eyes scanned your face one last time.  It was almost as if he was searching for any hint of a lie, but if he had been, he wasn’t able to find it.  “Okay, okay… If you insist.  I’m sorry this had to happen to you.  I hope it heals quickly.”  His lips stretched into that signature bunny smile you had witnessed so many times while seeing him with his friends in public, but it almost looked a little more… Bashful.  “I’ll see you around, okay?”

No, no he would not.  You weren’t even sure that he had recognized you from being at the same coffee shop so often, but regardless, you had already planned to avoid the location at all costs.  You couldn’t stand the thought of him possibly approaching you out of pity to check and see if you were okay.

Instead of expressing any of these concerns, you twisted your lips into a small smile and nodded your head at him.  “Mhmm.  See you around.”

After lifting his hand in a wave, Jungkook smiled at you once more before turning on his heel and slowly starting to make his way back toward the main area of the gym.  You watched as he began to disappear, as you planned on rushing out the door the moment he was out of sight.  Right before he rounded the corner, his body twisted to face you once more.  If you hadn’t been so fixated on your own embarrassment, maybe you would’ve noticed the way his cheeks flushed a deep shade of red before he nervously laughed to himself and rounded the corner quickly so he was out of your line of vision.

The moment he disappeared, you gathered your belongings and rose to your feet a bit too quickly, immediately noticing how you forgot to avoid putting pressure on your toe.  Fighting through the pain and fighting to maintain any sense of pride you had left, you began your walk-- or rather, wobble-- home.

God, you needed some wine.

The rest of the week passed by without much trouble, but maybe that was due to your advanced avoiding skills.  Due to having three midterms throughout the week, most of your time was spent holed up alone studying.  While you usually would do most of your studying in your favorite quiet coffee shop, you made it a point to steer clear of it at all costs.  You were well aware that Jungkook also spent a lot of his time in that specific location, and you weren’t ready to show your face to him if it could be prevented.  He had been right; your toe wasn’t broken, but instead just badly bruised.  While your toe may have been fine, your ego certainly wasn’t.  After stumbling home after the incident on that Monday evening, your roommates had a laughing fest at your expense over a few too many bottles of wine.  They attempted to convince you that what had happened really wasn’t that embarrassing, that Jungkook seemed to be really sweet about it, and that such a chaotic event would be ‘the most epic story to tell people about the start of your relationship at your wedding.’  Although you indulged in their pipe dreams for the time being, you were going to stick to your plan: avoid Jungkook at all times possible until enough time had passed that he likely forgot about your humiliating catastrophe.

After a week of cramming for exams and perfecting your evading abilities, you were beyond ready to take a night to unwind and destress. That was precisely why you found yourself out at one of popular college bars by your campus with your friend Jennie on Friday night.  The pair of you weren’t exactly the type to go out and let loose very often as you tried your best to prioritize your studies, but once you allowed yourself to get dressed up and had a few vodka-crans running through your veins, you understood why a lot of college students went out so often and remembered why you used to so much during your freshman year.  The sensation of being tipsy and laughing with your friends was truly therapeutic and a much-needed antidote to counteract the toxic environment of never-ending stress.

Having been at the bar for over an hour, it started to get quite crowded.  As you twirled your straw around in your half-empty drink, you watched as Jennie began to look around at all of the new faces in the bar before freezing and pursing her lips. “Okay, not to make you freak out or anything… But hot coffee shop boy AKA sexy fitness instructor boy AKA Jeon Jungkook is here,” she whisper-yelled at you as she leaned toward your ear.  “He seems drunk… Like really drunk.”

Blinking rapidly as you tried to process this new information, you pulled back from her and began to shake your head.  This certainly was not what you needed to hear right now, but the alcohol in your system calmed you down at least a little bit so you didn’t immediately book it out of the place.  “So what you’re telling me is that I need to hide in the bathroom for the rest of the night?”  Despite your fears, you really wanted to get a glance of him.  Although the bar was quite large, you told yourself it would be too risky.  If experience had taught you anything, it was that even one glance at him could be fatal for you.

“Stop being ridiculous,” Jennie scoffed, shoving your shoulder before taking a long sip of her drink.  Her gaze remained set on the area of the crowded bar that you refused to look toward.  “He’s…” She paused for a moment before her eyes widened.  “Okay, I might be a little drunk, but I’m almost positive he keeps looking over here.”

“Maybe because you’re staring at him and drawing attention to us,” you scolded, narrowing your eyes at her.  “Please stop before I jump over the actual bar and hide behind it.”

Jennie laughed at your dramatic suggestion, eyeing your nervous persona up and down.  “Relax, relax.”  She looked over your shoulder yet again.  “Oh, wait.  He’s on the move now so I don’t think you have to worry.”

Letting out a sigh of relief, you took an extra long sip of your drink.  “Thank god.  I don’t need to relive my earlier trauma on a night out.”

“Wait, fuck.  I think--”

“Ah, is that toe girl?!”

Your whole body froze as you heard the close proximity of a very familiar male voice behind you.  You wanted to believe that your initial guess of what was occurring wasn’t true, but the mixture of shock and amusement on Jennie’s face as she looked over your shoulder at the sight behind you confirmed that your worst nightmare was, in fact, true.

Sucking in a deep breath and downing the rest of your drink before placing it down on the bar, you gave yourself a mental pep talk before slowly turning on your heel to face the source of the voice.  If there hadn’t been a decent amount of alcohol in your system, you were quite certain that you would’ve passed out right then and there.

There before you stood Jungkook with a cheeky grin spread across his lips and arms crossed over his chest as he stared down at, unfortunately, you.  He was sporting a pair of tight, ripped black jeans and a matching black t-shirt.  The clasping of a beer bottle in one hand and the way his arms were folded made his bicep muscles protrude in a manner that had you ready to start drooling.  Jennie had been right; his face was glowing a bright shade of red, likely due to a great deal of alcohol consumption.

Clearing your throat, you forced your lips into a shy smile as you folded your hands together in front of you.  You wished you hadn’t finished your drink so you had something more natural to do with your hands.  It felt as if though your heart was going to explode through your chest, but he was here now and there was no escaping.  “God, is that really what I’m known as now?”

“I mean, kind of.”  Jungkook let out a loud laugh, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he did so.  How was he so fucking gorgeous?  And why the fuck was this beautiful man going out of his way to talk to you on a night out?  “But I won’t call you that anymore.  It’s Y/N, right?”

Your brow furrowed as your mouth opened in surprise.  Wait, what?  Jungkook knew your name?  It felt like your mind was moving at a million miles a minute trying to process just how that could be possible.

A hand reached out from behind you to squeeze your shoulder, Jennie stepping forward and revealing herself after you had forgotten about her existence for a minute.  Her lips were twisted upward into a mischievous smile.  “I see a couple of my friends from one of my classes.  Gonna go say hi to them.  I’ll meet up with you later.”  After not-so-discreetly wiggling her eyebrows at you, she mouthed what appeared to be “good luck” before sauntering off.

“Looks like you’re stuck with me now.”  Jungkook chuckled quietly as he watched Jennie walk away before setting his eyes back on you and smiling warmly.  You were convinced that his smile was going to be the death of you.  “Hopefully you won’t try to run off as quickly as you did the other day.”

“I did not run off!” you scoffed immediately, crossing your own arms over your chest as you feigned offense.  Once again, thank god for alcohol, for you were well aware that this conversation would not be happening without it.  He was right, but you hadn’t realized he had noticed your urgency in escaping that day.  ‘I… I wasn’t even aware that you knew my name.”

“Suuure you didn’t.  You couldn’t get away from me fast enough,” Jungkook teased, leaning forward a bit to nudge his shoulder against yours.  The area of skin he touched immediately felt like it was on fire, as did your cheeks.  “But of course I know your name.  We had Earth Science together last year and you’re always studying at the same coffee shop by North campus that I do.  You’re kind of hard to miss.”

You?  Hard to miss?  Not to mention, the Earth Science class was a lecture with over one hundred students in it, and the professor hardly ever took any form of attendance.  Sure you could say the same thing about you knowing his name, but that was only because you had gone out of your way to find out who he was after becoming captivated by him upon seeing him at the coffee shop.  This didn’t make any sense.  Were you dreaming?  Hallucinating?

Raising an eyebrow at him, you decided to keep your response simple.  “You’ve never talked to me, though…”

“I know, I know.”  Jungkook unfolded his arms and clasped both of his hands around his beer bottle, staring down at his fingers as he tapped them against the glass.  Maybe it was the dim lighting in the bar, but you could’ve sworn his cheeks darkened as he avoided your eyes.  The aroma of cologne and beer coming off of him at the close proximity had you feeling light-headed.  “I’ve always wanted to.  Planned to talk to you at the coffee shop this week, but you were nowhere to be seen.  You just… I… You’re really pretty and you’re always smiling and I kind of freaked out when I saw you taking that class on Monday.  I’m pretty shy and not exactly the most confident person so I have no idea why I’m saying this right now… Definitely all of the beer I’ve drank… But I probably shouldn’t be overstepping or saying any of this anyway since I’m starting to realize that you’ve probably been avoiding me or think I’m weird or something.  Sorry for offering to drive you home the other day… I realized after that that probably seemed creepy coming from a total stranger.”  He looked to the side as he began to nervously tap his foot against the floor.  Something that sounded like a nervous laugh pressed through his lips.  “Fuck.  This is why I barely ever drink.”

Your body remained frozen as you stared at the side of his face, fully aware of the fact that your jaw had dropped and you were visibly gaping at him.  No.  There was absolutely no way that those words came out of his mouth and he meant them.  It had to be the excessive amount of alcohol in his system, right?  Or maybe he was just sweet talking you to try to get laid.  That had to be it, right?  You weren’t sure if you were going to throw up, pass out, or do both at the same time.  The vodka taking over your own system was preventing you from being able to form any sort of coherent thought.  Still, he deserved a response.

“What?  I don’t think you’re weird at all,” you reassured, chewing on your lower lip as you tried to read the expression on his face.  God, you really could have come up with something better than that.

Jungkook’s doe eyes at last met yours again, a disbelieving look in his eyes.  “Then why’d you lie and say your friend was picking you up and end up walking home on a possibly broken toe instead of letting me drive you home?”

Oh my god, he had seen you do that?  You were certain he was completely out of sight when you had dragged yourself out of the building.  To be fair, you hadn’t taken into account the fact that the place was covered with windows that would have given anyone access to see outside the front of the building, but why would he have been looking anyway?  Just as you thought that day couldn’t have gotten any more embarrassing, it did.  

The mix of alcohol in your system and your heart pounding in your chest was quickly becoming too much to handle and making you lose control over your faculties.  Maybe that was why you blurted out, “I-I don't know… You make me nervous.”

“You make me nervous too!”

Before you could even begin to comprehend the weight of his words, another male figure popped up beside Jungkook and draped an arm over his shoulders.  His bright pink hair made him easily identifiable.  It was iced chai, also known as Park Jimin.  If Jennie had noticed he was there, she certainly would have been freaking out.

“There you are!  I’ve been looking for you.  You just disappeared on me,” Jimin informed Jungkook, his gaze quickly moving to set on your distraught form.  If you hadn’t been so out of sorts, perhaps you would’ve noticed the look of recognition in his eyes as they set on you.  “I’m sorry, is he bothering you?  He never usually goes out with us and gets drunk like this, so I’m sorry if he’s a little chaotic.”

Shaking your head at Jimin, you offered him a comforting smiling.  You could feel Jungkook’s concerned eyes burning a hole into the side of your face.  “No, no.  He’s not bothering me at all, don’t worry.”

“Oh, thank god.  I was worried he might do something stupid.”  Jimin let out a sigh of relief, looking between the pair of you.  Could that ‘something stupid’ be what had just occurred?  At last, he gave Jungkook a firm pat on the shoulder.  “We have to get going right now.  Hoseok thought it’d be a good idea to down five tequila shots in a row after all of the beer we drank back at the dorm.  He has his head down on the bar with his eyes closed and I want to get him out of here before he starts puking everywhere.  Afraid you might end up in the same state if you keep drinking at this pace too, dude.”

“I’m fiiine,” Jungkook snapped back at him, rolling his eyes as he shrugged Jimin’s arm off of his shoulder.  He peered at you for a quick second before his eyes averted downward, the nerves that had been there before refusing to go away.  After taking a few moments to ponder what his friend had just told him, he let out a defeated sigh.  “Fine.  We can go.  Only because it’s Hoseok though.”

“I’ve already requested the Uber so we should head outside now,” Jimin urged, glancing over toward where Hoseok likely was sitting at the bar.

“Um.” Jungkook at last forced himself to look at you, his lips curving upward into the slightest smile.  It seemed forced though, and you knew it was because you didn’t have the opportunity to elaborate on and finish the conversation you were having before Jimin butted in.  You also felt as if though you were about to self-implode and needed some time to comprehend what had just unfolded.  “Sorry.  I have to get going, I guess.  I’ll see you around though, okay?”

Nodding your head in agreement, you allowed yourself to return a reassuring smile.  “Okay.  I’ll see you around.”  This time, it was possible that you meant it.

After he gave you one last anxious look, he turned on his heel and followed Jimin’s lead, disappearing out of your sight.

Where the fuck was Jennie?

After scoping out Jennie in the corner of the bar, you had convinced her that it was absolutely necessary to immediately take an Uber home to debrief on what had occurred.  Within half an hour, you had managed to arrive back safely to your dorm and had replaced your uncomfortable clothes with pajamas and your vodka crans with a bottle of wine.  Although your mind felt quite foggy from trying to piece together everything that Jungkook had said, you were able to provide Jennie with at least the majority of the details.

“Wait, hold on.  Let me think about this.”  Jennie threw herself back against your bed, staring up at the ceiling after her head hit the pillows.  “So basically what you’re telling me is that you are to Jungkook what Jungkook is to you?  Like he pretty much admitted to admiring you from afar and being too afraid to talk to you all of this time?” she questioned, eyes wide in amazement.  “God damn, why can’t shit like this happen to me?  This is like some fairytale shit.  You’re so fucking lucky.”

Taking a big swig directly out of the bottle of cheap rosé, you let out an exasperated sigh.  “I don’t know.  It seems too good to be true.  Like, what if he was just really drunk and didn’t know what he was saying?  You even said he seemed really drunk.  Or like, what if he was just being nice because he was trying to get laid?”

“Y/N, don’t be ridiculous.  I know this all seems so unreal because we never thought something like this was possible, but the things he said to you were way too specific to just be a fluke.” Jennie sat up straight again and pulled the bottle of wine out of your hands, taking a sip herself.  “Besides, I was watching you guys from across the bar.  He looked absolutely smitten with you and ridiculously nervous, drunk or not.”

“Fuck, I’m so much better at just daydreaming about guys than actually knowing how to talk to them and attempting to form actual relationships,” you groaned out, closing your eyes and resting your head on Jennie’s shoulder.  “What am I supposed to do?”

“I hate to break it to you since I know this is very out of character for you, but you’re going to have to make the next move.  He laid his cards on the table, and now the ball is in your court.”  Jennie allowed her head to fall on top of yours and passed the bottle of wine back to you.  “Based on what you explained to me, you didn’t really provide him with a whole lot of reassurance that the feeling was mutual and he’s probably feeling super embarrassed right now… Like, definitely more embarrassed than you felt after the whole gym incident.  You have to let him know that you’re interested in him too.”

Letting out a huff, you tapped your fingers against the glass of the bottle of wine.  Jennie did have a valid point, as much as you hated to admit it.  Regardless of Jungkook’s intentions and just how drunk he may have been, he had seemed incredibly flustered after rambling on and exposing what he had to you.  As much as there was still a part of you that was convinced that he hadn’t meant what he said, there was a bigger part of you that was excited about what this could possibly lead to if you followed through with it.  You would have to throw away your nerves and muster up the tiny bit of confidence you had if this was ever going to happen.

“Okay, so what’s the game plan?”

The plan you and Jennie had concocted ended up being a lot more difficult to follow through with than you had initially imagined.  The original scheme involved you approaching him at the coffee shop you both always studied at, but despite the numerous occasions you dropped by and spent hours studying there over the next week, he was nowhere to be found.  It was almost as if he had adopted the same avoiding technique you had the week prior after being embarrassed at what unfolded at the gym.  You weren’t exactly surprised, but it was making this whole thing a lot more complicated for you.  Furthermore, the longer it dragged out, the more anxious you got that maybe this was all a bad idea and that you had misunderstood what he said at the bar.

After a week with no luck, Jennie had convinced you that maybe it would be a better idea to try to track him down at the gym.  Despite going almost every day and keeping your eyes peeled for him, he was nowhere to be seen.  It wasn’t until a few days later that it dawned on you that the group fitness class schedule was posted online, and that it was possible that he now had some classes that were officially assigned to him.  Sure enough, upon checking the recreation website, you quickly discovered that he did have a couple classes that he was set to teach.  While this information certainly was helpful, it was quite unfortunate that every class he led happened to be at the ass-crack of dawn.  God, were you really interested in the type of guy who gets up extra early to work out?  Apparently so.

So that was precisely how you found yourself rolling up to the gym at 6:45am on a Tuesday morning, eyes heavy with exhaustion as you searched for the room the class was being held in.  Your heart was pounding and your palm was sweaty against your water bottle, but you were too dedicated to turn around at this point.  You had spent over a week trying to track him down, and you at last had.

When you entered the room, Jungkook had not arrived yet.  There were already quite a few girls in the room setting up their equipment, so you followed suit.  As most participants were often too intimidated to take the spots up front and center in front of where the instructor stood, you took it upon yourself to do the honors.  Of course you knew this would make Jungkook want to run the other way, but the thrill of making him as nervous as you were that last time was too exciting to turn down.

The door of the room opened and closed once more, and you didn’t even have to look up to feel his presence.  Here we go.  “Hi, everyone!  Welcome to class.  My name is Jungkook and I’ll be your instructor toda--” His voice cut off at the end of his statement, and when you finally allowed your eyes to set on him, he was already looking at you with wide eyes and tinted cheeks.  Within a millisecond, his eyes found the ground and he apprehensively took his spot directly in front of you.  The poor guy didn’t have a choice.  “U-Um, if you guys have any questions before we get started, please don’t hesitate to wave me over!”  You had a very strong feeling he was praying you wouldn’t wave him over.

The plan you had created before arriving was to wait until after class was over to ask him if he could talk for a few minutes.  You knew it wouldn’t be fair to put him on the spot before class, and you didn’t exactly feel comfortable confessing your feelings for him in front of twenty other girls who were probably drooling over him as well either.  

You managed to follow through with the plan, not communicating with Jungkook at all before and throughout the class except for a few soft smiles and some attempted eye contact.  The eye contact thing didn’t go over so well though, for whenever you did manage to get Jungkook to lock eyes with you, he’d immediately turn bright red and force himself to look everywhere but at you.  His nervous stammering through the microphone when giving instructions was almost too cute to handle.

When the class finally did come to an end and you were a sweaty mess, you sucked in a deep breath as you watched the rest of the participants start to put away their equipment.  Setting your eyes on Jungkook, you smiled slightly.  “Hey, can we talk?”

Jungkook looked up from his phone, eyes wide and clearly panicked.  He scanned your face carefully, almost as if he was trying to guess what your intentions were.  At last, he swallowed the lump in his throat and shoved his phone into his pocket.  “U-Um, sure, I guess.  Let’s just wait until everyone clears out.”

Nodding in agreement, you sat back and watched as the rest of the participants put their materials back in the closet and slowly began to file out of the room.  With each person that left, you could sense Jungkook getting more and more anxious.  He seemed to be mindlessly checking things around the room, his eyes darting back and forth between the door and any part of you that wasn’t your eyes.  By the time the last girl exited, your heart was pounding in your chest as well.

Clearing your throat, you watched as Jungkook walked to the front of the room to shut the door, seeming to take as long as humanly possible to pull it closed.  Just as you were about to speak the pitch you had practiced in your head and to Jennie numerous times over the past week, he opened his mouth.

“Look, I’m not sure exactly what’s going on here and I know that I might have been a bit overbearing when I was drunk last week, but if you’re just here to make me nervous and make fun of me and my awkward self for having a crush on you, you can just leave.”  He at last whipped around to face you, a sad expression taking over his features as he began to pace back and forth, running a hand through his sweaty hair.  He resembled something like a wounded puppy, and the longer you stared at him, the more you noticed just how exhausted and agitated he looked.

That definitely was not what you had expected and you felt awful that he had spent over a week thinking that you were probably teasing him with your friends for what he had said to you at the bar.  Furrowing your brow, you pushed yourself up to your feet and crossed your arms over your chest.  The planned speech was not going to do in these circumstances.  You would have to cut straight to point.

“I dropped that weight on my foot because I’ve been ridiculously attracted to you for over a year and got embarrassingly flustered at the sight of your shirt riding up during class.”

Jungkook stopped dead in his tracks, clasping both of his hands behind his head as he at last allowed himself to look at you.  His eyes were wide in shock, his head tilted just slightly to the left.  “Wait, what?”

“I didn’t want you to drive me home because I was already so embarrassed and was so nervous that I would’ve only embarrassed myself more trying to talk to you without making a complete fool out of myself.”

As you spoke again, Jungkook hesitantly took a couple of steps in your direction.  It seemed as if though his expression was slowly softening, and what almost appeared to be a small smile was fighting to form on the corners of his lips.  “I asked you to borrow a pen that one time in Earth Science with plans to work up the nerve to talk to you at the end of class when I had to give it back, but instead I just kept it and ran out of the room because I got too nervous.”

Unable to hide your own smile now, you allowed yourself to take a step toward him.  The closer you got to each other, the more the tension in the room built.  “I lied and said that I had an extra pen that day, but really I gave you my only one and just didn’t take notes that whole class.”

At last, that familiar bunny smile stretched across Jungkook’s whole face, his chest bubbling in laughter as he threw his head back.  “I once tried to ‘accidentally’ drop a book near you at the coffee shop in hopes that you’d pick it up and talk to me, but instead I just dropped it and tripped over it.”  Another step forward.

Giggling quietly, you chewed on your lower lip as you advanced forward.  “My friends and I have collectively referred to you by the code name ‘hot coffee shop boy’ ever since the first time I saw you there.  Also, ‘sexy gym instructor boy’ since last week.”

Jungkook’s eyes were boring into yours at this point, his body inching forward just slightly as his toes finally bumped against yours.  The tension-- not just from what was happening at the moment, but also from a year of pining after each other-- was so close to bubbling over.  “My friends and I know you as ‘hot coffee shop girl.’  Also, ‘toe girl’ since last week.”  The warm smile on his lips had twisted into a sort of mischievous smirk.

Leaning your head forward the slightest bit, your breath hitched in your throat as you could feel the warmth of his breath against your lips.  “If I haven’t made it clear yet, I’m extremely into you.”

Jungkook’s eyes-- which had darkened quite a bit over the last minute-- flickered down to your lips, his own head leaning forward an inch.  With this movement, the tip of his nose brushed against yours.  “And if I haven’t made it obvious yet, I’m extremely into you too.”

Before you could utter another word, Jungkook closed the minimal space remaining between the two of you by crashing his plump lips into yours.  His hands moved up to cup your cheeks, one moving along the back of your head to tangle into your hair.  Your own hands gripped to the front of his shirt as you stumbled back a bit due to the impact, your back bumping against the mirror in the front of the room.  The tension that had previously been building had popped the moment his lips met yours, but as his fingers tugged on your hair and his tongue found its way between your lips, you felt it resurfacing, this time between your legs.  You felt a bit flustered getting turned on this quickly by him, but when you put it into perspective, you had been waiting for this moment to unravel for over a year.  As your hands slid up the front of his shirt to rest on his defined core, you were certain you could feel his length getting hard against your thigh.

Pulling away after a minute, Jungkook rested his forehead against yours and stared deeply into your eyes as he breathed heavily.  There was a playful smirk on his lips as he dropped the hand from your face and rested it on your hip.  It was nice to see that he had finally let his guard down.  “So, I have to ask.  Are you more for sex first or a fancy date first?  I’m happily offering both, but we’re both kind of coming off a bit impatient here.”

Biting your tongue to hold in your laughter, you couldn’t ignore the way that the heat in the pit of your stomach was quickly sinking down lower between your legs.  “You know, if you hadn’t been so difficult to track down this past week, I may have taken you up on that fancy date first.”  You ghosted your fingers over his stomach, eliciting a surprised jolt out of him.  “But after you made me wait so long, I think you just might have to fuck me first.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened in surprise at your lewd words before he smirked and pressed his body against yours a bit harder, leaning forward to kiss a trail of wet kisses down your jawline.  “I’m happy to be at your service, but we’re kind of out in the open here.  I could drive us back to my room, that is if you’ll actually get in the car with me this time.”

Rolling your eyes at his teasing comment, you shoved at his chest.  Regardless, you couldn’t deny the fact that you were feeling incredibly impatient and weren’t sure you would be able to handle the wait while he transported you across campus.  Chewing on your lower lip, your eyes scanned the room.  “Equipment closet.  It’s spacious enough, it locks, and there’s no windows.”

“Jesus Christ,” Jungkook muttered under his breath, eyes searching your face for any hint of a lie.  When he didn’t find any, he smirked and pulled back, grabbing your hand in his.  “You know, I had planned on doing a lot of things today, but fucking in an equipment closet at the ripe hour of eight in the morning certainly wasn’t one of them.”

“Get used to it, hot coffee shop boy.”  Smirking to yourself, you allowed him to drag you towards the closet, pressing your back against the door after he closed and locked it behind you.  “Are you complaining?”

Rapidly shaking his head, Jungkook leaned forward and peppered kisses along your neck and collarbone, only pulling back to tug your shirt and sports bra over your head.  “No, no.  Just concerned you’re going to be the death of me before I even get started with you.”  Taking a step back, he pulled his own shirt over his head before allowing his eyes to rake up and down your body.  A combination of lust and admiration filled his eyes as he stepped toward you again.  “God, you really are so beautiful.”

Despite the fact that you had both been completely open with each other and the current situation being far from romantic, you felt your cheeks heating up at his compliment.  Shaking your head, you poked him in the stomach.  “Speak for yourself.  That’s the reason why I almost broke my toe.”

Throwing back his head in laughter, Jungkook stepped forward and wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting your body up and placing you down on top of a few stacked crates full of equipment.  “Mmm, I can make it up to you right now.”

Leaning forward, you pressed a few kisses along the corners of his lips and his jaw.  “And how are you going to do that?”

“Shhh, patience.”  Jungkook grinned as he bent down, slowly kissing a trail down your neck and collarbones.  When he reached your breasts, he slowed down his pace, carefully taking one of your nipples between his lips and softly sucking at the skin.  Once he established a rhythm that he was satisfied with, he lifted a hand and latched it around your other breast, kneading the skin between his fingers.

Letting out a soft moan, you threw your head back in pleasure and closed your eyes.  Your hands fastened around his neck, gently tugging at the hair on the back of his head.  The longer his lips and hands worked at your breasts, the more the heat between your legs throbbed.  “How am I supposed to be patient when I’ve waited so long for this?”

Jungkook’s eyes flickered up to meet yours, his lips making a popping noise as he removed them from your breast.  “You make a fair point.”  Kissing down your stomach, he urged you to lift your hips as he tugged your leggings and panties down your legs and allowed them to fall into a pile on the floor.  Kneeling down on the floor, his lips trailed their way up the inside of your thigh.  “Mmm, so wet already and I’ve barely even touched you.”

Whimpering softly at the feeling of his lips so close to where you needed them, you bucked your hips upward in an attempt to feel any sort of friction.  “P-Please.”

Chuckling quietly, Jungkook’s dark eyes remained on yours as he ghosted his lips over your dripping pussy.  The shy, insecure boy that he claimed to be earlier was nowhere to be found.  Instead, he was now indulging in the power he held over you.  “Who made you this wet?  Tell me.”

“You, J-Jungkook.  You did,” you whined out, attempting to push down on the back of his head.

Jungkook flashed you a satisfied smirk, nodding his head.  “That’s all I needed to hear, babe.”  Without another word, he gripped his hands around your thighs roughly and lifted your legs to drape over his shoulders.  Leaning forward, he closed the remaining space and attached his lips to your pussy.  Rather than making you wait any longer to have the tension relieved, he immediately went to work on your throbbing clit, gently sucking at the sensitive bundle of nerves.  Once he was pleased by the moans leaving your lips and the clenching of your thighs, he pulled his lips off and replaced it with his tongue.  Expertly circling his tongue on your clit, he reached one hand down and, without warning, began to pump one of his fingers in and out of your pussy.

“F-Fuck, oh my god, Jungkook,” you moaned out loudly, pulling harshly at his hair with one hand and reaching the other up to pinch at one of your nipples.  “R-Right there.”

“Mmm, need to get you stretched out and ready for my cock,” he murmured against your heat, quickly inserting another finger and curving them at the perfect angle to hit your g-spot with every pulse.  After circling your clit with his tongue a few more times, he encircled the bud with his lips yet again, this time humming against it to add an extra feeling of friction.

The sensation of his tongue and fingers working on your pussy and the sight of his glistening face was quickly becoming too much to handle.  With every movement, the bundle of nerves in your core was getting closer and closer to snapping and sending you into that blissful state you so longed for.  Biting down on your lower lip roughly, you closed your eyes tightly.  “I-I’m close.”

“Open your eyes.  I want you looking at me while you cum all over my tongue,” he rasped out after pulling back slightly, only leaning back down once you obeyed his command.  After a moment, he wet two of his fingers on his tongue before quickly beginning to circle them on your clit, moving his tongue in and out of your cunt at the same speed.

“F-Fuck, Jungkook!” you yelled out, forcing your eyes to remain open and fixed on his as you were quickly sent over the edge and into a state of ecstasy.  Your walls spasmed around his tongue as your vision became blurry and filled with stars.  The feeling was only prolonged as Jungkook kept moving his tongue until you couldn’t take it anymore and reached forward to push his head back slightly, left completely breathless as you stared at him.

Getting off his knees and onto his feet, Jungkook stared down at you in awe, leaning forward to press his forehead against yours.  The sight of your release on his lips that he refused to wipe off had your core already begging for more.  “God, that was so fucking hot.  You’re so fucking beautiful.”  Letting out a deep breath, he pecked your lips a couple times.

“How are you so fucking good at that?” you muttered against his lips, blindly reaching forward in search of the tie on his sweatpants.  Once you found it, you tugged roughly at it, sitting up straighter to urge both his pants and boxers down his thighs.

Chuckling to himself, Jungkook assisted you and pulled the articles of clothing down the length of his legs, stepping out of them once they reached the floor.  “I’d like to think that I’m a gentleman in the streets and a freak in the sheets…” His eyes wandered around the room for a moment.  “Or in the gym equipment room, apparently.”  

Rolling your eyes and giggling at his joke, you pulled him forward again to peck his lips.  “You know, if you moved to the side and let me get up, I’d happily return the favor.”  Your eyes wandered down the front of his body until they set on his hardened cock resting against his stomach, the sight of it causing you to clench your thighs together.

Shaking his head in response, Jungkook flashed you a shy smile.  God, how could he be so sexual yet so cute at the same time?  “As enticing as that sounds and as much as I would never turn that down on any other occasion, I’m afraid I’m not going to last if I don’t fuck you right now.”  Stepping forward, he looked down before cursing under his breath.  “Fuck, I don’t have a condom on me.  We don’t have fuck to if you’re not comfortable.”

“Wow, you didn’t bring a condom with you to your 7am fitness class?  How irresponsible of you,” you joked, shoving his shoulder before pulling him closer to you.  “I’m on the pill and I’m clean, so as long as you’re clean it’s fine with me.”

“You know, you’re going to regret teasing me,” he warned, laughing softly as he nudged his nose against yours.  “But yes, I’m clean too.”

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you raised a mocking eyebrow at him.  “Oh yeah?  And why am I going to regret it?”

Without another word, Jungkook reached down and grabbed his cock with one of his hands.  Rather than pushing it right inside of you, he instead slowly started to rub its angry red tip up and down your folds.  His eyes remained on yours, a teasing smirk tugging at the edges of his lips.

Biting on your tongue to suppress your whimpers, your eyes wandered down to the area between your thighs.  “W-What are you doing?”

Pressing his lips against your jawline, he let out an amused chuckle.  “Nothing until you tell me what you need.  Use your words, sweetheart.”

Reaching around him, you dug your nails into the skin on his upper back.  It wasn’t in your character to beg during sex, but the sight of the tip of his cock glistening in your juices from your first orgasm was enough to make you give in.  “P-Please fuck me, Jungkook.”  You forced yourself to lock eyes with him, hoping that the desperation you were exuding would be enough to make him cave.

Grinning in amusement against the skin of your neck, he nodded his head.  “Good girl.”  Sliding his cock down your folds one last time, he slowly slid it inside of your entrance once he reached it, a loud groan escaping his lips as he pushed all the way inside of you.  “F-Fuck, you’re so tight.”

Moaning out in pleasure at the feeling of fullness, you whimpered as you watched the sight of his cock disappearing inside of you.  The spectacle alone was enough to make the heat in your core reemerge, and your body was pleading for him to do more.  “M-Move.  F-Faster, please.”

Grabbing one of your legs, he extended it upward and propped it over his shoulder.  After getting a good grip on it, he quickly began to thrust in and out of you.  “Yeah?  You like that, babe?” he breathed out, his eyes screwing shut in pleasure before he buried his face into your neck again.

Dragging your nails down his sweaty back, you were sure you were going to leave some marks behind.  It only took a few moments for the feeling of overstimulation to wash away, and a new, deeper pleasure to replace it.  With your leg hanging over his shoulder, his cock managed to hit you at just the right angle with every thrust.  Using your grip on his back to press your body closer to his, you took the opportunity to wrap your free leg tightly around his waist.  The new position made it so his cock brushed against your clit every time he pulled it out of you, the feeling nearly having your eyes rolling to the back of your head.  “O-Oh my god, right there.”

Jungkook’s half-lidded eyes remained fixed on yours as he lifted one hand off of your thigh, pressing his index and middle finger together and moving them toward your mouth.  “Open.”  Once you complied, he inserted his fingers into your mouth.  His teeth dug into his lower lip as he watched the way you closed your lips, swirling your tongue around his digits a couple of times before sliding your lips back up and releasing them with a loud ‘pop.’  There was a mesmerized look in Jungkook’s eyes as his thrusts slowed for a moment.  “J-Jesus fuck, that was hot.”

A cocky smirk initially tried to spread across your lips, but it was washed away the moment he began to circle his lubricated fingers over your clit, his cock pounding in and out of your pussy at a pace that had you ready to unravel at any second.  “I-I’m close.”

Letting out what sounded like a combination of a groan and a whimper, Jungkook leaned forward and brushed his lips over yours.  “Cum all over my cock for me, babe.”

“J-Jungkook, f-fuck!” The sound of his raspy command and the feeling of his cock inside of you was all it took to push you over the edge again.  Your second orgasm hit you even harder than the first, a sensation of rapturous bliss overtaking your senses as your toes curled and your thighs were left convulsing around his body.  While your mind went foggy for a few seconds, the strain that was left in the back of your throat suggested that you had yelled out in pleasure quite loudly.  The euphoria was dragged out even longer as Jungkook had yet to reach his own high, his thrusts becoming sloppier as you stared up at him with hazy vision, gasping for breath.

“I-I’m close too,” Jungkook whimpered out, eyes screwing shut as your walls continued to twitch around his cock in the aftershock of your orgasm.  “W-Where do you want me to cum, babe?”

Coming back to your senses, you blinked a few times until your vision returned back to normal.  Finally processing his request, you used quite a bit of your strength to push him back a bit, ignoring the confused look on his face.  Using the space in front of you, you pushed yourself off of the elevated surface before getting down on your knees.  “My mouth.”  Reaching forward, you grasped his shaft in one hand, pumping his length a few times before leaning down and capturing his tip between your lips.  After circling your tongue around it a few times, you hollowed out your cheeks and began to bob your head up and down.

“O-Oh my… F-Fuck, Y/N.” Jungkook quickly adapted to the new sensation, his hands reaching around your head to tangle into your hair and urge your head down his cock further.  He locked eyes with you from above, his legs trembling around your head.  Taking notice of just how close he was, you forced your mouth down further to accommodate the rest of his cock in your mouth, swallowing around his length at the bottom.  The motion and the feeling of the tip of his length hitting the back of your throat was enough to make you gag, and that was all it took to push Jungkook to his climax.

Jungkook was a groaning mess above you as he released his load down your throat, unconsciously thrusting into your mouth further a couple of times to ride out of high.  After a few more spurts of his hot cum filled your mouth, you worked your mouth back up his length.  Once your lips popped off of the tip of his cock, you pulled back and swallowed thickly, the salty taste of his release lingering in your throat.

After taking a few moments to catch his breath, Jungkook reached down and grabbed your hand, pulling you up onto your feet in front of him.  Despite the crude nature of what had just occurred, the smile stretched across his lips seemed so… Innocent.  “Well… That happened.”  He reached up and pushed the sweaty hair that was sticking to his forehead out of his face.

Laughing softly at his words, you bit your lip and crossed your arms over your chest.  “I mean, that’s certainly one way to work out at the gym.”

Jungkook’s whole body shook as he erupted into laughter, leaning down and beginning to grab all of your discarded clothing articles off of the ground.  He sorted through them and handed you back yours, beginning to redress himself after.  Once he was dressed, he grabbed a towel out of one of the crates and made sure the area was clean.  “Don’t forget we worked out before too.  That’s two whole workouts.  We’re going to need to fuel up with some electrolytes or coffee or something.”

Forcing your damp leggings back onto your sweaty body wasn’t exactly the easiest or most enjoyable thing to do, but you managed.  Once your shirt was back on, you looked back over at him and feigned an exaggerated amount of excitement.  “Oh my god, am I going to be able to get coffee with hot coffee shop boy?”

“Only if hot coffee shop girl would be so willing to accompany him,” Jungkook jived, nudging your shoulder with his before unlocking and pulling open the door of the closet.  To your relief, the room was still empty and there seemed to be no one lurking outside of it.  Grabbing his backpack at the front of the room, he slung it over his shoulder.  “It might be a good idea for us to shower first, though.  I have a strong suspicion that we probably smell prettttty bad.”

Grabbing your own bag and water bottle, you laughed in amusement as you followed him out the door of the classroom and into the main area of the gym.  “I have a feeling you’re right.  Should we shower and plan to meet up after?”

Walking through the lobby, Jungkook held open the main door for you before following you outside.  It was much brighter out now than when you had arrived at the facility almost two hours prior.  Time really does fly by when you’re having fun.  “I feel like we can’t really be trusted with the whole ‘see you around’ thing and going our separate ways just yet after the shit we both pulled avoiding each other the past couple weeks.  Plus, I’m not quite done with you just yet.”

Snickering at the reminder of your past dramatic behavior, you nodded your head in agreement.  “So what did you have in mind?”

Stopping in his tracks, Jungkook turned to face you.  “So first, I was thinking you could come back to my place and we could both shower there.  I could provide you with some clothes for the time being, but if you need to change later, I can bring you back to your place.”  The corners of his lips began to twitch upward.  “However, that would require you getting into my car with me, and history suggests that doing so ‘makes you nervous,’ or something like that.”

“Hmm, I’m pretty sure I remember something about me making you nervous too.  I think some weird drunk guy told me that.”  Scoffing at his flirtatious teasing, you playfully shoved his chest.  “Anything else planned?”

“Hey, that ‘weird drunk guy’ is the reason we’re here today,” he scoffed, grabbing one of your hands off of his chest and lacing his fingers with yours.  “Then I was thinking we could go to our favorite coffee shop.  But… And I know this is kind of a wild idea... I’m thinking we sit at the same table for the first time instead of dropping pens and books to try to get each other’s attention from across the room.”

Squeezing his hand, you began to follow him as he led the way to what you assumed was going to be his car.  “A bold suggestion, but I’m into it.  Might have you drop a book at my feet and I’ll stare at you across the room longingly just for old time’s sake.”  When you reached a shiny black SUV, Jungkook unlocked it and walked around the passenger side, opening the door for you.  “So I’m guessing these plans involve us skipping classes today?”

“Well, obviously.”  Jungkook flashed you a bright grin as you climbed into the car, shutting the door gently once you were in the seat.  He ran around the front of it and quickly hopped into the driver’s seat, leaning over to look at you once inside.  “And then once the evening comes, as I suggested earlier, I would still love to take you out to dinner, if you’d let me.”  Despite everything that had just unfolded and all of the confessions you both had shared, there still appeared to be a glimmer of nervousness and hesitation in his eyes.

Leaning to the side, you reached over and placed your hand on top of his.  Your lips formed into a reassuring smile.  “I would love to.”

Jungkook lifted your hand that was over his to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss against your fingers.  “Good.”  Turning to face forward, he started the car and began to back out of the space.  As he looked at the pathway in front of the gym, he directed a mischievous smirk at you.  “Remember that time you walked back to your room on a swollen toe to avoid getting into my car with me?  Good times.”

Letting out a groan, you covered your flushed face with both of your hands.  “If you don’t shut up, I’m about to hit you with a ‘see you around’ and roll right out of the side of your car while it’s moving.”

“Okay, okay.  I’m sorrrry,” Jungkook laughed to himself, grabbing the wrist closest to him to pull your hand off of your face.  “As compensation for your shame, I will make another embarrassing confession.”  He knitted his brow together as he thought for a few moments before chuckling to himself as a memory came to mind.  “I once accidentally liked one of your Instagram pictures that was like… 72 weeks old and almost considered moving to another country and changing my identity.  I unliked it right away and you probably didn’t even notice, but I was stressed.  There.  Does that make you feel better?”

Gnawing on the inside of your cheek to hide your smile, you glanced at the side of his face.  “Mmm, a little bit.  I think I’m going to need you to keep going.”

Jungkook scoffed as he placed your hand that he was holding down on his thigh, shaking his head in disbelief.  “How is that fair?  I think I deserve some form of payment if I’m going to keep exposing myself too.”

“Fine, fine.”  You gently squeezed his thigh, your mind sifting through all of the embarrassing things you had done in the past due to your embarrassing infatuation of the boy who was now sitting beside you.  “I tried to order you, like, a sort of secret admirer coffee on Valentine’s Day, but the barista ended up giving it to the wrong guy and I ended up leaving the shop because I was so mortified.”

“Aw, I’ve always wanted to have a secret admirer,” Jungkook teased, parking the car in front of his building.  “God, we really could go on forever with these embarrassing stories, huh?”

Nodding your head, you reached your hand up and playfully poked at his dimple.  “It sure seems that way.  We’re kind of the worst.”

Unbuckling his seatbelt and hopping out of the car, he met you at the front of it and draped an arm over your shoulders.  “Good.  Just gives me another reason to keep you around longer.”

And while ‘see you around’ hadn’t been a promise that either of you kept before, keeping you around from then on certainly was one that he fulfilled.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook imagines #jungkook fluff #jungkook x you #jungkook fanfic #bts fluff #bts imagines #bts scenarios #jungkook fic #college au #bts college au #jeongguk fic #ddaengtae #shamelesslyimagining

[lightsovermonaco]

His Good Sweater: Chapter 18

Masterlist

Thanks to @acollectionofficsandshit for being my bestie and beta reading! This would have never happened without her ❤ Make sure you read Roman Profile, set in the same universe!

Word Count: 7.6k

Abu Dhabi holds a special place in Pierre's heart. The food is great, the views are spectacular, and there is always plenty to do to keep him busy. Night races are some of the more exciting races too and Pierre appreciated the variety.

Coming into the final race of the season, Pierre holds on to seventh in the championship by a few points. Perez sensed the usurper creeping up on his seat and had cranked it up to eleven. 

Exams had kept you in London for the race in Brazil, where Pierre had finished sixth and Checo DNF'd. You had managed to fly out for the weekend in Saudi Arabia, where Perez had finished fifth and closed the gap to Pierre to only four points behind. 

If Pierre didn't finish ahead of Perez this weekend, he was fucked. And he was at the distinct disadvantage of his good luck charm being absent, stuck in London finishing up your final few exams of the semester. Two weeks without seeing you coupled with barely hearing from you had worn on him. It wasn't purposeful on your part but Pierre's stress was already compressed like the suspension on his car. Stray an inch too far over the racing line, hit a curb too hard and it was liable to snap, sending bits and pieces flying.

Pierre checks his phone for the millionth time as he waits to check in to the hotel. Wednesday was late for this many crew members to be arriving. His main concern though was that you hadn't responded to the text he'd sent you upon landing.

"Look lively, will you?" Max claps Pierre on the shoulder and he slides his phone into his pocket. "It's the last race of the season. We get to go balls to the wall and leave it all out in the track. And here you are looking like a kicked puppy."

"Easy for you to say," Pierre starts, grinning at his friend. "You clinched the title weeks ago. You don't even have to race this weekend if you don't want to and you'd still win."

"Doesn't mean I won't be shooting for a podium."

Pierre rolls his eyes. "Yeah well we can't all be so lucky, can we?"

"Next year you'll be playing with the big dogs." Max hands the receptionist his ID, says a few words and turns back to Pierre. "Looking forward to having you as a teammate again. It was fun for those couple races and I'm sure you'll be a challenge now that you've found your groove."

"You're gonna jinx it if you keep talking." Pierre laughs, praying that it covers up the old wound Max's statement picked open. Pierre hated the idea of moving back to Red Bull but he didn't have much choice. He was still contracted to one of four Red Bull branded seats for next season. A promotion, at the very least, would help him showcase his talent and further cement his value. If he had to spend any longer than that with the team, ripping out his hair was a real possibility.

"Wasn't someone supposed to be with you this weekend?" Max quirks a brow. "Where is she?"

"In London." Max bringing you up doesn't help the pit forming in Pierre's stomach. Win or lose, seventh or eighth, Red Bull or Alpha Tauri, come Sunday Pierre wanted you at his side. Interview requests were bound to roll in either way and Pierre would need someone to ground him, a task much easier to accomplish if you were physically at his side.

"Too bad." Max clicks his tongue and takes his room keys from the receptionist. "It's gonna be a fun weekend."

"I don't think-"

Pierre's vision goes dark at the same time someone whispers, "Guess who?"

Pierre sucks in a breath, spins on his heel and wraps you in a hug in one smooth motion. You laugh as he lifts you off your feet and presses kisses to your cheeks. 

"What are you doing here?" He grabs both suitcases and tugs you aside. His room can wait.

"Tost asked me to come." Your grin is contagious, its twin appearing on Pierre's own cheeks. "He said that since you were flying out from Milan on your own there was an extra seat on the jet, so if I got myself to Nice I could fly out with the Red Bull boys."

"Seven hours trapped in a tin can with Max, Yuki and Checo?" Pierre rubs his chest. "I've got heartburn just thinking about that."

"It wasn't so bad," you say, finally giving him a proper kiss. "Yuki and I just played games on our phones the whole time. And I beat Max at Scrabble."

"How many Dutch words did he try to use?"

"Mmm, about half the words he tried were definitely not English."

"Yep, sounds about right." Pierre throws an arm around your shoulders and leads you back to the reception desk. He pays for an upgraded room when you aren't looking- though when you're assigned a suite there's not much higher you can go- and slips the woman behind the counter an extra bill for good measure.

"I could use a nap," you note, leaning against Pierre like you'd otherwise fall over. "I didn't get much sleep last night."

Pierre checks his watch. "We've got time for a nap."

"We?" Your raised eyebrow is question enough. Pierre smiles and swipes his key card once you're in the elevator with him. He hadn't looked at the price of the room but he was positive it was more than he'd spent on a single night in his entire career, considering it occupies an entire floor of the swanky hotel.

"It's date night," Pierre says simply. Initially his plan had been to invite Charles over for a game of Fifa but the Monegasque wouldn’t fault him for cancelling at the last minute. "We're in one of the most luxurious cities in the world and I'm going to show you off every chance I get. The restaurant down stairs is to die for."

Your attempt at nodding along with what he says is thwarted by a yawn. "Sleep first, eat later." Seeing as it was impossible to deny you, Pierre simply drops a kiss to the crown of your head.

"Wait until you see our room." The way your eyes light up when he says our room makes him want to say it again and again just to see you sparkle.

"I know you upgraded it, Mr. I-think-I'm-sneaky." You uncurl yourself from against his arm when the elevator chimes. "How much did it cost?"

"A few extra pennies."

The stainless steel doors open directly into the suite. The living space is dominated by a curving crescent of full length windows overlooking the cerulean harbor and the jagged steel of the city skyline beyond. Suitcase forgotten, your jaw drags along the floor as you toe off your shoes in favor of sinking onto one of the half moon couches situated around a low coffee table.

"Did you get some sort of bonus you didn't tell me about?" Pierre sees your inner engineer cataloging the chandelier dripping crystals over the carved dining table and the pattern of the black veined marble flooring. "This cost more than a few pennies."

"I didn't really look at the price so it's possible," he admits. In the end it was worth it to see you like this, happy as a pig in mud. Pierre was in his element at the track you were in yours in beautiful buildings. For all Pierre cared you could be sharing a dingy room at a motel; it would still be five star worthy with you there. 

Every once in a while though, you deserve a bit of pampering for all you put up with. Late nights and months apart wasn’t easy on either of you, but you stuck by him. And when the day comes that Pierre retires or loses his seat, you would be the one there to comfort him. Spending frivolous amounts of money to see you smile was nothing in the grand scheme of things. 

In Pierre’s world, money is temporary, you are forever.

"Well I have half a mind to tear into you for spending so much on a room we won't spend all that much time in," you start, your star-speckled gaze landing on Pierre, "the view is too pretty to be upset about."

"Mine isn't half bad either." You laugh, tucking an errant hair behind your ear. You both know he isn’t referring to the glittering bay or the expensive furnishings.

"Up," Pierre demands softly, holding out his hand. Your hand is warm and dwarfed by his long fingers but you barely seem to notice. The heart in his chest pounds for no discernable reason as he leads you down the narrow hall past doors leading to what he can only assume are bedrooms and bathrooms, to the one at the end of the hall. Based on his mental floor plan this one has the best view, if he's guessed correctly.

Your breezy oh confirms his hunch. You stutter at the threshold, coming up short behind him to bathe in the beauty of the sea, dotted through with white sails. Sunlight twinkles off the waves and if he breathes deep enough, he can almost smell the salt.

"Come on," Pierre says with a chuckle, urging you to fall into the fluffy down of the bed with him. You follow reluctantly, too enamored by the sights to pay any real attention to how Pierre arranges your limbs to his liking, your head resting on his chest and your joined hands laying atop his stomach.

"How about that nap?" He murmurs, running the fingers of his free hand through your unbound hair. 

You sigh and snuggle in closer. It was rare that Pierre had the opportunity to steal moments like this during a race week, when he had nothing better to do than tangle himself in you.

"I'll tell you a story." 

Just as he expected, you leap at the offer. "Can you tell me the one about the time you and Charles got in trouble when you were karting?"

Normally he opts for something fictional that allows him to embellish the details to fit his narrative. Pierre loved spinning tales rife with laughter and intrigue but he also didn't mind indulging your curiosity.

"Yeah, I can tell that one. Let me set the scene. It's midnight on a Friday at a little track outside Rouen. Two gangly teenage boys, one French and one definitely, positively not French, have nothing better to do than get themselves in trouble…"

**********

Fans began whispering when Pierre set foot in the lobby. The price of stardom was high and had taken years to get used to. Some days the bombardment of people asking for photos and autographs overwhelmed him to the point he was desperate for an out. Most people respected his boundaries and when they sensed it was too much, they backed off. Other days it was simply too much and he would mumble excuses and book it out the door.

The pressure increases tenfold when he steps into the lobby with you on his arm, the pair of you dressed to the nines. He clocks a group of women- clearly tourists based on their body language- perched on a sofa the minute their low murmurs turn into excited squeals.

Pierre mentally braces for you to stiffen or stop altogether but you do neither. You carry on unaffected, either ignoring them or completely oblivious to the women who do nothing to hide their pointed stares.

"Table for two please." You smile at the restaurant host and then at Pierre. You must not have noticed the fans then. You were getting better at coping with the photos and whispers, although your smile usually became forced the longer it dragged on, the polar opposite of you currently beaming at him.

Pierre's shoulders sag a bit when you're led to a secluded table towards the rear of the dining space. Privacy wasn't a luxury he was often afforded. With his back to a wall of windows, there were fewer angles for people to approach from which was a small comfort.

Apparently you find sitting across from Pierre unacceptable because you shuffle your chair to his side of the table before plopping down in it. Pierre shoots you a questioning look but keeps his mouth shut. Inquiring after your motives didn't tend to end well for him.

Instead he leans over to kiss your cheek, relishing the blush his lips coax to the surface.

“It all sounds good,” you say, scanning the menu. “You’ve been here before, I take it?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah I have. It’s all wonderful.” 

The fans from the lobby remain in the blurred fringes of his vision. Pierre does his best to focus on the waitress explaining the specials. He tunes in automatically to the fan’s heavily accented English as they argue with the host, vying for a table as close to Pierre as possible.

Their phones remain out as an annoyed waiter tries and fails to coax the gaggle of girls into ordering something. Pierre drags a hand through his hair.

Being the center of attention usually doesn't bother him. Coping with the spotlight and the scrutiny that accompanies it is second nature; if the press conferences at Spa in 2019 had taught him anything, it was the importance of a solid poker face. Fame is new to you though and interactions with polite fans make you nervous. Having your picture taken without permission and splashed on social media? Forget about it. Pierre didn't care to find out how you'd react.

"Don't be nervous." You lay a hand on Pierre's thigh. The touch is enough to temporarily pause his bouncing leg. "You're going to do amazing this weekend. All you have to do is finish in front of Checo and you're golden."

How you haven't noticed the girls giggling mere yards away is beyond him. The last thing he wants to do is ruin this perfect, beautiful moment of bliss. You look gorgeous with your painted lips and that sinful black dress that he doubts can be comfortable based on how it hugs your curves like water. To top it off, the pride in your gaze is something to behold, making it impossible to doubt himself when you so clearly and openly believe he can conquer the world.

But it's better to tell you now versus you finding out on social media later. "That's not what's bothering me."

"Oh?" You sit straighter and set the menu down. "What is it then? Because if it's Horner, I have no problem marching in there and chewing him out. Birdy will back me up."

Despite himself, Pierre can't hold back his smile. "Where did all this confidence come from, hmm?"

"I'm learning," you insist, nodding your head firmly. "I'm growing as a person and you should be proud."

"I never said I wasn't." Maybe you'd spent the last month at university interacting with racing fans on campus. Perhaps being exposed to endless questions in a setting you controlled was the key. "Did you take a course in confidence at university?"

You scrunch up your nose and laugh in the most adorable way. Pierre's heart lurches at the sight, regardless if it was him you were laughing at.

"No, but I did make a few new friends that have a habit of pestering me about you." You jab a finger in his side for good measure. "It helped, I think. I don't look for cameras as much anymore. You're my focus now, not paps that may or may not be lurking in bushes."

"I knew it." Pierre is slightly impressed that he'd hit the nail squarely on the head. "I figured there had to be someone at uni responsible for helping you out."

You shrug and purse your lips. "I guess we'll have to see how I handle this weekend. I mean, there's bound to be press trying to corner me, what with the stakes and all. But I think I can take them." You raise your fists in front of your face and Pierre has to laugh. 

“Throw a punch like that and you’ll break a finger.” He takes one of your clenched fists in his and untucks your thumb from under your fingers. “That’s how you make a proper fist. And you hit with these knuckles here- make sure you distribute the blow across all four, or you’ll be hurting.”

“Regardless,” you say, jabbing the air a few times, “The shock factor of having little old me in their face ought to be enough to earn me an advantage.”

Pierre finishes the lap to circle back to the topic at hand. "How about we test your confidence?” 

"Okay," you say, dragging out the 'a' until it hangs in the air between you like a spider's web. 

Pierre rakes a hand through his hair and nods to the girls a few tables away. "They've been taking pictures since we sat down. I'm sure they'll be all over Instagram in an hour, if they aren't already."

You steal a glance at the table in question under the guise of grabbing something from your purse. You hum, contemplating how to go about responding. Pierre is almost certain you'll ask to head back upstairs where it's just the two of you, no cameras or outside influence to ruin your night. His wallet is already out under the table, ready to leave a hefty tip for putting up with your drink-and-dash.

“We aren’t doing anything interesting,” you point out, swirling the knuckle’s worth of whiskey in your glass. “Why do they feel the need to document every passing second?”

Pierre lifts a shoulder in a shrug. “It’s just what some people do. If you’re uncomfortable we can go.”

“Who said anything about leaving?” You scoff, the corners of your lips turned up in a teasing smile. “I figure the best course of action is to give them something worth photographing.”

“What do you-”

Pierre’s yelp is decidedly unsexy when you yank him forward by his tie and attach your lips to his. Caught entirely off guard, he flounders for a moment before he catches himself and sinks into you. One hand on your cheek and the other creeping up your thigh, Pierre slides his tongue over the seam of your lips. You don't hesitate to obey the silent command.

He should be embarrassed. He should be contemplating the consequences of this kiss being splashed across tabloids the world over. He can’t bring himself to care, not when you’re the only release he needs and something as simple as a kiss sets his skin alight and causes any sane thoughts to trickle from his head.

Nothing matters. You're kissing him and your hand is a few inches below his hip on his right thigh, burning a brand that he prays leaves a puckered pink scar. Your scent and your mouth and your unmistakable hiss of pleasure saps the worry from his limbs. He's floating up off his chair, lungs filling with helium as you steal every last molecule of oxygen from the room.

Just like that, Pierre is the one that's roaring to leave for an entirely different reason.

Your hand on his jaw keeps your lips a hair's breadth apart as you whisper, "Are they staring?"

A blissed out nod is all he manages. Thoughts evade him and speaking is utterly out of the question when your lips are within striking distance. He surges forward for another kiss, heavier on teeth than on tongue. He makes sure to hold your lower lip between his teeth longer than necessary, putting on a show now that you've given him permission.

"Pierre," you murmur, using the hand splayed on his chest to push him away. The whine that escapes him is wholly unintentional. Thankfully it's low enough that only you hear, pressing a finger to your sinful lips.

"Down, boy." You extricate his hand from the dimpled flesh of your hip and place it chastely in his own lap. "We've accomplished what I wanted to."

Saying you tossing a wink over your shoulder at the intrusive fans isn't the hottest thing he's ever seen would be a lie. Pierre needed to be sure to thank Daniel's girlfriend the next time he saw her for whatever the hell she said to finally bestow you with a healthy serving of self-assurance because this new you is an entirely different entity, one Pierre intends to explore at the next opportunity.

"Problem solved." You brush your hands together and Pierre half expects to see dust clouds in the air like you'd just finished a woodshop project. 

Pierre's brain is operating on a ten second delay. So really, normal operating procedure when he was in your vicinity. "I don't think we've accomplished everything I'd like to get done."

"We have a dinner to finish first." You pick up your menu and resume browsing like you hadn't just forcibly ripped his appetite for anything other than you right out of him. "The salmon sounds good, don't you think?"

"You sound good," Pierre mumbles under his breath and picks up his own menu. God, he'd love to let his fingers drift to the apex of your thighs. You’re always cute when you squirm. It was so simple to do too, all you needed was a brush of his knuckle to your center and you'd be gasping.

"Are you ready to order?"

The soft-spoken waitress bursts Pierre's bubble. She brings fresh drinks and jots down an order of two salmon fillets and leaves with a smile. 

How Pierre has managed to make it this long without fucking you is beyond him. From the moment you surprised him in the lobby, his limbs have been thrumming with energy. And now your surprise kiss had been the pebble that preceded an avalanche of feverish longing. Those red painted lips would look better wrapped around his-

The pointed toe of your shoe digs into his calf. "Quit staring."

"Either you let me daydream or you let me take you upstairs,” Pierre quips back, licking his lips before he can catch himself.

"Can we get through one date without you mentally undressing me?"

Pierre dips his grin in a vat of lust, his words dripping with waxy promise. "No. Not when I know that as soon as we're alone, you'll let me do what I want."

"And what about what I want?" Your pouted lip does absolutely nothing but push his mind further in the gutter. 

"Your wish is my command." His hand floats under the hem of your dress to graze along your core. And there it is, that sound he would swim across oceans to hear, your chastizing gasp of surprise. 

The cross way you whisper his name is a thing of dreams. No one else's name sounded like that on your tongue, that honor is reserved solely for Pierre. The two breathless syllables are more exhilarating than standing on the top step. The rush of adrenaline that accompanies them is ten times what he is rewarded with when passing a world champion on track. He'll give it all up to hear you repeat it when you're pissed or lonely or tired- he just wants your voice echoing in his ears like a broken record.

You move his hand a safe distance down your thigh, nearly at your knee. Pierre gives your leg a sharp squeeze. "Can we please get our dinner to go?"

"Not tonight. You can wait, mon amour."

The French rolls off your tongue awkwardly but Pierre will be the last to complain. Your encyclopedic knowledge of which buttons to press when had come back to bite him in the ass.

"That's not fair." His pout is a mirror image of the one you turned on him earlier. "You can't use my own language against me."

You pat your pockets as if searching for something and shrug when you come up empty. "I don't see a rulebook anywhere."

Reminding you what happens when you tease him shoots to the top of his to do list. "I'll play if you wanna play, ma chérie. Don't bite off more than you can chew."

"I think you're forgetting who usually wins off track."

Pierre can't help it. He takes advantage of his superior reflexes and surges forward to claim another searing kiss. You did normally win and it wasn't for lack of trying on his end. No matter the tactic he employed, you generally got the better of him. Not that he minded.

"Why don't you come here?" He purposely grazes his lips to your ear as he speaks and grins when a shiver runs down your spine. 

"Because we are in public," you hiss back, though the way your head tips to the side betrays you. Pierre's nose touches the underside of your jaw and you struggle to find your breath.

"We should eat." A self satisfied smile splits his face when he notices your heaving chest and wild eyes. 

"When did our food get here?" Pierre did that. He got you so worked up that you blocked out your surroundings so thoroughly that you hadn't heard the clink of plates. Pierre wears that fact like a badge of honor.

"A minute or so ago. Remind me again who's winning?"

"We may be even," you relent, adjusting the skirt of your dress. Yeah, even isn't the word he would pick, considering how flustered you are. It's a good thing Pierre has learned to eat with one hand because he doesn't plan on moving the arm currently slung over the back of your chair anytime soon. His finger traces the letters of his name on the bare skin of your shoulder. Whether you realize what he's writing or not you lean into him as you eat, falling in closer with each lemon-scented bite.

"Excuse me?"

You don't bother to look up but Pierre does. Disappointment washes over him when he is met by one of the fans, apparently deeming now to be the appropriate time to approach him, while clearly on a date, in the middle of a meal.

"I'll be happy to take a photo once I'm done." Sometimes passive aggressiveness works best with people like this, who have no regard for personal space. "Right now I would prefer to be alone, thanks."

"Oh, right." The blonde giggles, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "You two make a… cute couple?" The end of her sentence turns up and your fork falls to your plate.

Pierre tucks you a little closer to his side, both possessive and reassuring. "We know."

Your discomfort is plain, the way you curl in on yourself making his heart hurt. But you surprise him by taking a deep breath and turning to the woman with a smile. 

"If you'd let us finish our meal, I would appreciate it. We can stop by on our way out and chat with you." Sylvie would be proud of that answer. Diplomatically phrased and said with a smile that negates any negative connotations.

"Of course." The blonde's smile is sickly sweet. To Pierre she adds, "Good luck on Sunday."

Pierre nods. The woman's rude behavior didn't warrant a verbal response. She mumbles a feeble goodbye before slinking back to her friends. If nothing else at least their whispers died down, put out by his behavior. 

Pierre loves his fans. Without them he wouldn't have a sport to compete in, and of course he appreciated their endless support. Stopping for photos or autographs had gotten him in trouble with Marko multiple times for being late to meetings that usually turned out to be pointless anyway. As a whole, their enthusiasm gives him an extra boost on Sundays and lifts his spirits after a bad weekend.

And then sometimes there were people like the blonde woman that had interrupted his dinner. Those people he has far less tolerance for. Basic manners were imperative to Pierre giving someone the light of day, otherwise he saw no need to waste time and energy on them.

"All good, ma chérie?" Pierre rubs your shoulder, hoping it'll stave off any anxiety.

"I'm good," you confirm with a nod of your head. "Let's finish up and go to our room."

Pierre presses a kiss to your temple and scarfs down the remainder of his meal in record time. He flags down the waitress and hands her his card, leaving a substantial tip when she returns with the check.

“Can you distract that table?” Pierre asks, aware of how unusual the request likely is. “I’d like to get out of here without making a scene.”

“Of course,” the waitress says with a warm, sincere smile. Pierre waits until she loudly announces, “Excuse me? Your card has been declined, do you have another method of payment?”

Neither of you can contain your laughter as you stumble through the lobby. In the sanctity of the elevator, Pierre wraps his arms around your middle and molds himself against you. "You look especially gorgeous tonight."

"You're not too bad yourself." One of your hands finds the nape of his neck, guiding his face to the crook of your shoulder. Pierre takes the invitation at face value and nips at the sensitive skin. Your hum goes straight to his cock, twitching against the swell of your ass.

"I win," you purr, tangling your fingers in his hair and tugging. 

For once Pierre is glad to be in the world's slowest elevator. Since he's already lost, he might as well lose in style. He spins you to face the mirrored wall. And because he knows it'll make you tremble, he trails his hand lazily over your throat to grip your jaw.

A low moan leaves your parted lips. Pierre studies your reflection, from your hands gripping the railing to the skin dimpling beneath his fingers. 

"Fine, you win this time. But I think you and I both know, I'll come out ahead in the end."

**********

Waking up to soft kisses will never get old. Thirty years from now when Pierre was retired and you fell asleep each night with his arms around you, you'd still yearn for the brush of his lips to your cheeks, neck, and shoulders to rouse you from the violet shores of sleep.

"Good morning," you mumble, a sentiment which Pierre echoes with his gruff, sleep tinged voice. "Sleep well?"

"Best sleep I've ever gotten. You tired me out last night." You both grin at the reminder. Fueled by a slight tinge of jealousy after the women at the restaurant made eyes at him, you had refused to let him tumble into bed until well past midnight, when you both were well and truly exhausted. Thursday is press day, nothing strenuous that he couldn't afford to be a little sore for.

Pierre rolls to straddle your hips, lips capturing yours for a proper kiss. The taste of freshly brushed mint makes your skin tingle when he tugs your lip between his teeth.

"It's too early for that." You throw your arms around his neck and urge him to bend his elbows until he falls atop you. It takes him a moment to snuggle in, his head on your chest and his arms sliding under your middle. 

You're convinced that ten minutes in this position can cure any ailments, physical or mental. The weight of your soulmate pressing into you, forcing you to focus on breathing instead of whatever might be bothering you. It's easy to forget about the outside world when everything you require to be happy is wrapped around you like a blanket.

You stroke a hand over Pierre's hair until his breathing evens out, only rousing him when the sun peeks over the harbor. Amiable silence fills the space as hues of orange and pink paint Pierre in swaths of color. Suddenly you're seeing him for the first time, completely enamored by the angles of his cheekbones and the sharp cut of his stubbled jaw. The golden hour of dawn shines on it's golden boy, his lashes brushing his cheeks as he turns towards the warmth calling him home.

"Pyry and I are going for a run soon if you'd like to come with us."

You cringe. Running used to be fun when you were in school, but seeing as you hadn't properly trained in years you doubted you could keep up with a pair of professionals. "How about you text me when you're back and I'll come to the gym with you? It looks fancy, if George's snaps are anything to go by."

Pierre trails kisses up your sternum, over your neck and only speaks once he's reached your lips. "Looking at other men, are you?"

"Shut up," you laugh, shoving him off you. "I'll have you know it was a rare shirt on picture, thank you very much. I don't need to see George shirtless ever again."

A satisfied, "Good," rumbles from Pierre's chest and he stands to stretch the lingering sleep from his limbs. Clad in nothing but a pair of white four inch inseam shorts and with his back to you, you grin as an idea forms. You scramble forward before he can process you moving and smack his ass so hard he yelps.

"Gotcha!" You devolve into a fit of giggles as he rubs the spot you hit, whining about you taking advantage of his distraction.

"You like it," you tease, and Pierre remains strictly pouty for two whole seconds before he breaks into a grin and nods. "Now put on a shirt and get downstairs before Pyry calls you and you get reamed for being late again."

Pierre leans down for one last kiss before rushing off to the lobby. Waking up before the sun leaves you plenty of time to laze about if you choose to. Kicking your butt into gear seems like the better option so you drag yourself out of the relative warmth of the sheets and shuffle to the kitchen in search of coffee. 

Apparently the suite came fully stocked with a handful of different freshly ground blends, and much to your delight you recognize one of your favorites. You scroll through the room service menu on your phone while it brews. Without a doubt Pyry would rope you in to whatever workout he had planned for Pierre, albeit giving you a watered down version of what he gave the driver. Regardless, it would still be grueling and you needed to fuel up.

A hearty breakfast of fresh fruit and cinnamon sugar oatmeal shows up at your door ten minutes later. You're just finishing up when Pierre's snapchat comes through and you nearly choke.

Come on down baby

The sweaty, shirtless selfie that accompanies the caption is wholly unnecessary. Pierre's stupid tongue sticks out and the fingers of one hand are tangled in his hair. The muscle of his bicep is perfectly flexed, an obvious but appreciated attempt to rile you up. You shamelessly screenshot the photo before it disappears to save it for later.

You change into a simple set of leggings and a loose t-shirt and head to the elevator, curating your music queue on the way down.

The outdoor gym overlooks a pool of the same crystalline blue as the sea not far beyond. A few Alpha Tauri and Red Bull team members you recognize occupy a handful of machines. You wave at the ones you recognize, including Alana- she was a sight for sore eyes. You make a mental note to catch up with her at some point today, as you're sure to cross paths again.

Pyry spots you before Pierre does and waves you over. "Start stretching," the fin orders, "I'm glad you dressed for the occasion this time."

"I've learned my lesson." You plop down next to Pierre and lean into a stretch to stage whisper, "He drives you this hard?"

"Get used to it." Pierre shoots you a grin that sets you on fire. He's got a shirt on now, which means he only took it off earlier to send you that snap. Tease.

Any other time you'd chide him for his behavior but this weekend you let it slide. Tension has been brewing since the moment you spotted him across the lobby; simple things tip you off to the stress winding up in him. If flirting could offer him a small amount of release, then so be it, even if it was torturous for you to see him like this and be unable to do anything about it.

"If you two can't get through this without making heart eyes at each other I'll separate you," Pyry warns, pushing at your shoulders and helping you stretch a few more inches. You hide your wince and laugh, leaning into the slight burn.

"Sorry coach," Pierre chimes in, "I'll keep my hands to myself, don't worry." He accepts Pyry's hand to be pulled to his feet. Bouncing on his toes he throws a few punches at the air and catches your gaze over his trainer's shoulder.

"Definitely not you I'm worried about."

As Pyry says it, you blow Pierre a kiss. You quickly tuck your hands behind your back when Pyry's head whips around. Your cheshire grin gets you off the hook and Pyry just points to the stationary bike in silent command. At least he was going easy on you.

Headphones pumping a Pierre curated playlist, you lose track of time as you cycle mile after mile. Pierre sparring on the fringes of your vision helps distract you from burning muscles. Sweat soaks his black tee and is absorbed by the waistband of his oddly patterned orange and white shorts. No matter how incessantly you tease him for his fashion choices, he never fails to amaze you for how well he pulls it all off.

Lost in the music and the incredible view, it takes you a moment to realize Pierre's lips aren't just moving silently. You yank out an ear bud and blubber, "What did you say?"

Pierre's breathless laugh is accompanied by a shake of his head. He half curls in on himself, hands on his hips and mouth agape as he tries to catch his breath. The image stirs memories of the last night, when he was panting just like that but with nothing obscuring you from drinking in his godlike muscled body.

"I said," Pierre starts, walking over to kiss your cheek, "I need a shower before press. I'm going upstairs. You can stay here and Pyry can take you through some more-"

"No thanks!" Pyry shrugs off your immediate refusal. Training top tier athletes and training you sat at polar opposite ends of the spectrum and often times the Fin pushed you farther than you thought capable. You'd like to be able to function tomorrow, thank you very much.

The elevator ride to the suite is filled with salted kisses and wet touches. A breadcrumb trail of clothing leads from the stainless steel doors to the glass encased shower. There's not enough time to worship Pierre like you'd wanted to but he sighs when you run a soapy cloth over his body. Your lips follow the suds, leaving light kisses to the tender muscles. By the time you pour shampoo in your palm and lightly scratch at his scalp to work it into a lather, he's practically purring.

Media appearances are a necessary part of being a driver. Pierre usually handled them well enough on his own and occasionally with Sylvie's help when she could be bothered to get off her phone for a few minutes, but having you with him is different. You pride yourself on reading him well enough to know exactly what he needs. Some days, when the press isn't a pack of rabid animals, he returns to his driver's room and needs nothing more than a quick kiss to have him righted. On days when the pack of piranhas descend to feast on the bones of a bad session or the whispering of drama, a delicate touch is required.

If your suspicion proves right, today would be the latter. Being ahead of the frenzy might take the edge off when Pierre got in the thick of it.

When the tap cuts off, you step out and wrap Pierre in a fluffy towel. His smile communicates how grateful he is- and that he knows what you're doing.

You hand him a stack of Alpha Tauri branded clothes and sit on the foot of the bed. "Do you want me to come to the paddock with you?"

Pierre pauses with his shirt half on. "If you don't mind."

"Of course I don't mind." You pluck a few of his rings from the nightstand and hold out your hand. "You have to complete the look."

"What would I do without you," he murmurs, slipping one on his pinky and one on the thumb of his opposite hand.

"Probably be ridiculed for your lack of fashion sense."

**********

As a driver's girlfriend, you had come to grips with being relegated to a background role when it came to team events. You have to ask Sylvie to repeat herself twice before her words sink in.

"Come with me to the media pen," the woman grits out. Apparently Tost intended to have some fun torturing the woman before he fired her at the end of the season. Hopefully whoever Pierre got stuck with next was a bit more personable than Sylvie.

"Pierre told me to wait here," you say, gesturing to the garage buzzing around you. You were a rock and the mechanics were the stream, parting around you without a care in the world. You were barely a blip on their radar, everyone too honed in on their tasks to pay you any mind.

"And now I'm telling you to come with me. The other wives and girlfriends are in attendance and it'll look odd if you're not there too." Clearly, Sylvie didn't like the idea. And any idea that pissed Sylvie off sounded like a good one.

"I know the way," you say and breeze past her. Your feet follow the familiar path to the cluster of reporters crowded around metal gates, keeping the drivers in like caged animals. It was fitting, considering how often people referred to the sport as a traveling circus.

Pierre is already knee deep in an interview with one of the more popular journalists in the bunch, Will Buxton. Careful to stay out of the lens, you lean against the guardrail to listen in. So far it seems to be going well, Pierre's laugh brings a smile to your face.

"So, Pierre." Will shifts on his feet, pausing to create a sense of drama. "Your seat for next year. We know you'll be in Alpha Tauri or at Red Bull. Only a few points separate you from being demoted right back to eighth in the championship, which would officially relegate you to keep your seat at Alpha for the upcoming season. Are you worried about a mechanical problem or an accident stripping you of your chance to prove yourself and leaving you stuck where you are?"

Your stomach sinks. Buxton knew how to phrase a question, you had to give him that. Each word had been carefully chosen to elicit an emotional response from Pierre. You hate seeing him backed into a corner, forced to answer the same questions again and again, helpless to prevent it.

"Well first of all I'd like to stay that I'm not stuck at Alpha." Pierre shifts his weight and you exhale. Buxton's poisoned dart had missed its mark.

"Given a few years of development I know we could have a really competitive car. But it's more so that I'm ready to move up, fight with the leaders now instead of waiting. I'm in my prime and I don't want to let that pass me by.

"So no, I'm not worried about things that are out of my control. My team has given me an amazing car this year and I'm not concerned about mechanical problems. Things out of my control aren't worth my energy. There's nothing I can do about it so I don't even give it thought. I'll focus on my driving and pushing my limit- if an accident happens, I'm just a passenger."

"Well said." Buxton nods and turns away, effectively dismissing Pierre. As soon as he's out of the camera's view he's reaching for you and you meet him halfway. Sylvie trails after you as Pierre leads you through to the Alpha garage.

"Five minutes until your briefing," Alana says the second you enter. "And hey girl. Don't think I've forgotten about that sweater I loaned you. I still want it back!"

Your friend doesn't leave any room for rebuttal before heading for the conference room, presumably to set up whatever presentation she had created. Sylvie had disappeared too, leaving you as the only one for Pierre to focus on.

"You think I can do it?" He asks quietly, playing with your interlaced fingers.

"I don't think." You tilt his chin up so he's looking at you. "I know. And I'll be right here when you cross that line on Sunday and bring home points. You've got this, baby. Don't doubt yourself now."

"Pierre!"

Your grip on his chin prevents him from following the voice, not that he would if he could. You shoot him a raucous grin, "Red Bull colors would look pretty good on me, huh?"

Pierre's smile is brighter than all the stars in the sky. "Anything with my name on it will do.”

@seasidetom @flashcal @limp-wrist-max @sunshinesewis @lifeofzoemichael @ninuffi @perfectfantasies22 @lamboleglerg @ladyperceval @0forgottenparadise0 @evie-pr @avsensio @ninuffi @lu-morningstar @ggaslyp1 @swiftyhowlz @xeniarocks @teenwaywardasgardian @saintandrea-droidsmuggler​

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[kyotarou]

practicality

Inspired by @iwaixiumi-main on Tumblr! (using your quirk for the first time headcanons)

characters: katsuki bakugou

plot: you’ve only used your quirk in front of your friends for fun little tricks, but never at its full potential. your classmates witness this for the first time when katuski bakugou hits a nerve.

warnings: swearing, angst, dedgration (not sexual), kind of a fluffy ending

word count: 1.5k+

a/n: i apologize for making kirishima the secondary love interest that gets thrown away at the end for the second time 💀💀 i promise i’ll write smt just for him 😩

Your Quirk: You have the ability to control any water around you. When under your control, the water can become as strong as iron (you determine the strength). The downside: the more you use, the heavier it feels—use too much and you could injure yourself from the weight (possibly even crushing yourself).

   Your classmates had seen your Quirk in action many times before, mainly for fun, but never during combat. You knew water wasn’t accessible in every situation, so you stuck with fist to fist action. After exam season, it surprised you to find your name on the list of students with top scores, especially on the combat portion since you barely used your Quirk. Nevertheless, a large weight was lifted from your shoulders.

     Denki and Kirishima invited all of Class 1-A to the beach to celebrate. You brought your bag inside one of the stalls, taking your sweet time to change. It was the weekend, after all, no need to rush. Worn out from exams, you planned on using the day to relax, unlike your classmates who buzzed with energy. Your plan was foiled when Kirishima caught you tiptoeing out the changing stall, hoping no one would spot you.

     “Hey hey hey, (Y/N)!” Kirishima slung his arm around your shoulders. “You ready to hit the waves with us? Maybe you can finally show us your Quirk!”

     You shook your head with a small laugh. “Come on, Kiri, you’ve seen it before.”

     Kirishima led you towards the shore. “Yeah, yeah, but I wanna see how manly it can be!”

     You pushed him off with another laugh which turned into a scream when he shoved you into the water. “Oh, you are not getting away with that!” 

     As Kirishima tried to run, tendrils of water wrapped around his ankles, keeping him grounded. He tried using his Quirk to escape, but you were stronger. You and Kiri spent the next few minutes stuck in a splash battle, which gained the attention of the others. Though you wanted good old-fashioned fun without your Quirk, the rest of the class encouraged you to show your best tricks, and their jubilant faces made it hard to refuse. You sent waves crashing at their feet to see who could run away the fastest, played volleyball with a bubble of water with Uraraka, and even swam out to the deeper parts of the beach with Kiri who was starstruck when you created air bubbles around your heads, letting you safely view the fish that swam by. 

     On the shore, Bakugou watched with steam coming out his ears. He gritted his teeth as you and Kirishima sat beside him at the picnic table, Kiri’s arm wrapped around your shivering body as the sun began to set. Jealousy nipped at his skin like harsh bug bites.

   Why should I give a fuck? Not like I’m into them or anything.

   But he knew damn well he wanted it to be his arms around you and the one to brush the wet hair out of your face instead of stupid Kiri. He glared at you and the red-haired boy, him feeding you a piece of sushi like a baby.

     “Brrr, the airplane’s coming, open wide!”

     “Dammit, Kiri! Just give it to me already.”

     You twirled your finger and a stream of water flew into Kiri’s nose. Bakugou rolled his eyes as you doubled over in laughter, chin resting in his palm.

     “Tch, couldn’t use your Quirk for something useful?”

     You shrugged. “I’d say this is pretty useful.” You stuffed a piece of sushi from Kiri’s plate into your mouth as he wiped the snot from his face.

     “You’re an idiot. Just cause you can do cool shit with it doesn’t make you the shit.”

     You gave Bakugou an awkward smile, who kept his eyes glued to the table. The rest of the class went quiet. His taunts were usually followed by a scoff or chuckle, but his voice was sharp and cold.

     “Never said I was. Not my fault everyone thinks it’s cool, right guys?” Your classmates chimed in agreement. 

     Bakugou snorted. “So why didn’t you use it during exams? Why don’t you use it for something better than shitty party tricks? Don’t you want to be a hero? How can you do that when you’re too afraid to use it against a real opponent?”

     “I-I’m not afraid!” Your cheeks burned with the anger bubbling in your stomach. “It’s just not practical!”

     “Not practical, my ass. Admit it, dumbass, you bribed your way up the class rankings, didn’t you?” 

     Kiri looked between the two of you nervously. “H-Hey man, I think that’s enough. Let’s all calm down and have some fun, alright?”

     “Shut up, Kiri! This isn’t about you!” Bakugou snarled. What the hell was he saying? Even if he refused to acknowledge his feelings, you were his crush—he let his mouth talk without thinking and there was no going back. He was letting his explosive attitude get the best of him and part of him felt relieved to blow off some steam.

     The table shook as you shot out of your seat, your clenched fists shaking at your sides and furious tears streaming down your face. 

     “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

     The class murmured as ocean water climbed slowly up the sand, dangerously close to where they set up the barbecue. “You know I studied so hard for those exams. Don’t you remember all those nights I spent awake in the middle of the night? Shitty party tricks, is that all I am to you?”

     The water rose like a cape above your shoulders, casting a dark shadow over your wrathful face. Your arms trembled under the weight, but the adrenaline ignored the pain. Kiri scurried from the table, leaving Bakugou to stare at the ominous wave blocking the last of the sun’s golden rays from view. It truly did look like an iron wall, so close to crashing down and crushing him underneath. Bakugou set off an explosion as the wave stopped inches from his neck in the shape of a spear, the tip sharp enough to slice his skin.

     “Is this practical enough for you?” you sobbed. You sank to your knees and covered your tear stricken face. The water retreated to the ocean, leaving everyone untouched, except the poor table, now charred from Bakugou’s hand. Sniffling, you snatched your bag from the sand and excused yourself before slamming the door of the changing stall. After getting dressed, you declined Uraraka and Deku’s offer to accompany you to Heights Alliance. With the mood now sour, Class-1A packed and cleaned the area before heading home in tense silence. 

     Bakugou couldn’t sleep that night. He stared at the ceiling with a frown, hands clasped together on his stomach. He cared about you so much, but he let his stupid jealousy consume him. Now, you would probably be angry with him for the rest of your life, and Bakugou couldn’t live with that. Seeing you walk away with your head down and wiping your tears shattered his heart. You were the one for him and he fucked it up like he always did.

   He jumped from his bed with a pounding heart. He slipped on his shoes, which were on the wrong feet, and left his dorm.

     What the hell am I doing? 

     Bakugou pounded on your door. He couldn’t care less if the whole building woke up—he had to see you. He was never one to share his feelings, but with you in mind at that moment, there was nothing more he wanted to do. Bakugou pounded on your door again, tempted to blow it down if you didn’t wake up. To his surprise, you answered with a scowl and puffy eyes. 

   “What the fuck do you want?”

     You swore your ribs almost caved in when his strong, muscular arms wrapped around your body fervently. Bakugou kept his hand on your head as he nuzzled his nose into your hair, inhaling your sweet, comforting scent.

     “I’m sorry…” he murmured. His grip tightened when you tried to push him off.

     “Is that all you have to say?” you hissed. Your voice shook at the foreign feeling of his warmth, making you wonder if it was someone else disguised as him.

     “No, it’s not.” Bakugou cupped your face with both hands, heart beating a mile a minute as he stared into your eyes. “I like you id- (Y/N). I’ve always liked you, and I’m sorry.”

     You were paralyzed. Bakugou’s calloused thumb brushed a stray tear you didn’t even know had fallen from your face. Your mouth hung open in disbelief.

     He… likes me?

     His words from earlier rushed back into your head. You tried to shake off his grasp. “What a great fucking way to show that.”

     “I know, I know. I didn’t mean any of it, you have to believe me. I was just… I was jealous, okay? I was fucking jealous of you and Kiri getting all buddy-buddy, and I said shit I shouldn’t have said.” Your eyes widened as he placed a tentative kiss between your brows. “You’re more than a party trick; you’re everything to me. And I can’t live with the idea of you hating me, cause I like you too much to handle that. Hell, I might even love you.”

     Your lip quivered at the sudden rush of emotions. You clung to the front of his shirt and pressed his face against his shoulder. “Do you really mean that?”

     “Hell yeah, I do. I-”

     You cut him off with a gentle kiss to the lips. “I like you, too, Katsuki. But what you said…”

     “You don’t have to forgive me right now. But you’re my world, my little teddy bear, and I just want to hold you. Is that too much to ask?”

     You shook your head. “It’s never too much to ask.”

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[maladaptive---daydreamer]

Black ribbon and silver bows

The fifth of may meant that there were exactly 2 months until Draco turned 17. Draco had gone above and beyond for your birthday, spoiling you with 17 individually wrapped gifts that he sent you on a wild goose chase around the school to find. You wanted to make him equally as special as he made you feel, but what did you get the boy who could get anything he wanted?

You thought about getting him a pet, but you didn’t think his mother would appreciate a cat roaming around the halls of the Malfoy Manor. Then you thought about getting him a broom, but as usual, Draco already had the best of the best. Your mind turned to clothes, but the man only wore black shirts with tailor-made trousers. 

“Still thinking about what to get Draco?” Blaise’s voice asked, pulling you from your thoughts.

“Ugh yes, anything I think of, he already has”

“You’re fault for choosing rich, should have dated a Weasley, they’d be over the moon with an unworn robe” 

You smacked Blaise’s arm “Don’t be so rude, Blaise. Just because you don’t like them doesn't mean you can be a prick”

“Why don’t you make him something? I’m sure the elves would let you sneak into the kitchen to cook, you could draw something, write him a poem”

If you were a cat, your ears would have pricked at hearing the word ‘draw’, Draco was never a fan of the decorations in his room, maybe you could paint him a painting that he could hang up on his wall.

“You might have just saved Draco’s birthday”

The increase of chatter across the library hinted that your free period was over and it was now time for lunch. You and Blaise collected your things and returned the books to the returns trolley before making your way to the great hall. You bumped into Draco, Pansy and Daphne on your way there. The five of you made your way to the Slytherin table to see Crabbe and Goyle already tucking in. 

“Why am I not surprised that you two gluttons are the first on the table?” Blaise asked, throwing his school bag down and taking a seat. 

The rest of your group sat down as well, the elves had made different variations of chicken wraps for lunch today. You picked up a grilled chicken wrap and began eating it, famished after your hour of revision during your free period. You had just finished the first one when Draco said your name.

“You’ve got sauce on your mouth, darling”

You stuck your tongue out trying to lick it off but you kept missing. 

“Hold still a sec” Draco instructed. He used his thumb to wipe the spot of sauce from your mouth, licking it off his thumb once he was done. 

“Ah my saviour!” you fake swooned. 

He laughed and continued to eat his lunch. You wolfed another half of a wrap before feeling full. 

“Are we still revising for charms after dinner?” Daphne asked, looking up from her homework. 

“I’m on it, but the boys have quidditch practise until 7, so they’ll have to join in later” You replied, snapping the lid of your lip balm back on

“Actually, practice is cancelled, so Blaise and I’ll be there” Draco added, downing the rest of his pumpkin juice.

“Y/N, you alright?” 

Your head whipped around to see Neville Longbottom standing behind you.

“Are you lo-” Draco began to sneer

You pinched the outside of his thigh making him grit his teeth instead of finishing his sentence. “Neville, hi”

“I just wanted to return your charms notes, they were dead useful, thanks,” He said with a light blush, holding your pile of notes out.

“Oh, thank you. I’m so glad you found them helpful” You took the notes from him with a smile. 

“Have a nice rest of the afternoon,”

“You too Neville,”

He returned to his friends and your friends turned onto you.

“Why are you so nice to him?” Blaise demanded.

“Oh merlin, when are you guys going to get over this rivalry, he needed help, so I helped him.”

“He’s also Longbottom”

You rolled your eyes. “Anyways, does anyone want to let me copy the last two questions for the dada homework?”

Daphne slid her roll of parchment over to you and you quickly scribbled the answers. Just as you had screwed on the cap for your ink lid, the bell for your next lesson rang. Nowadays your lessons were less structured, it was two months before exam season which meant the teachers pushed to revise topics rather than introducing new ones. Some teachers preferred to let you get on in groups doing your own thing, others had a strict revision lesson planned. But one thing was for certain exams had definitely taken over your life.

After your charms revision session with your friends, you and Draco found yourselves walking up to the astronomy tower. The sun was beginning to set as you nestled yourself into his lap.

“Don’t you think it’s mad that in a couple of years we won’t be able to do this anymore?” You asked, tightening his arms around you.

“We can watch the sunset from anywhere love”

“Ha ha you know what I mean idiot”

“I’m ready to leave this place”

“Sorry Mr ‘I should have been in Durmstrang’”

“I should have, my father agreed more with their curriculum”

“Maybe cause his old death eater buddy was running it”

“He’s your father's old death eater buddy too”

“My father never thought about sending me to Durmstrang”

“That’s because it’s a boys-only school, love”

“I don’t like you”

“That’s because you love me,”

“Speaking of love, do you remember the first moment you realised you loved me?”

He paused “As a matter of fact I do”

“Do tell, Mr Malfoy”

“We were at that party at the Parkinson’s in our 3rd year. You had a silver dress on. Your mum forced you into these heels and you hated them. You wobbled over to me and clung to my arm the whole night. But as soon as we were shooed away from the adults, you took them off and practically shoved them into my hands and started walking around barefoot. Pansy’s grandmother came out of the parlour and saw you without your shoes on and went berserk, she called you a disgrace, all our mothers came out to see what was going on and I’m pretty sure your mum looked like she was going to kill you”

“I remember that! Then I transfigured her ostrich feather boa into a snake around her neck!”

“She nearly pissed her pants” He laughed, causing you to smile.

“So is that your favourite memory of us?”

“No, my favourite memory takes place in our 4th year at the Yule ball. I didn’t want to dance in front of all those idiots but you pulled me up there anyway. But as soon as you held my hand it was like they all disappeared and it was just me and you. I spun you out and when you spun back into my arms, I dipped you and you looked so beautiful. But that is fighting for the top spot from the time you sucked me off in the restricted section, and the time you floo’ed into my room last summer at 2 am and I absolutely ruined you”

“Okay okay I get the picture your favourite memories are when we have sex”

“Not all of them, just some, what’s yours?”

“5th year, Christmas break, your parents’ Christmas party, you hid my promise ring inside my dessert” you held your hand up letting your ring sparkle in the candlelight, it was simple, a small princess cut emerald on a gold band, but it was oh so precious “You kept staring at me and I was so confused, I wasn’t even looking at what I was eating until you jerked my hand back and told me to look in the spoon and there it was. You cleaned it off and slid it on my finger right in front of everyone. Or maybe it was the time you made me sit on your face when we snuck into a room at the leaky cauldron”

Draco laughed and lifted your hand up and played with the ring. “After we finish Hogwarts, I’m gonna replace this ring with a diamond one”

“You are?” 

“Why do you sound so surprised, I told you already I was going to change your last name to mine, even your parents know”

“I know but I didn’t know you wanted to do this so early"

“Of course I do, why wouldn’t I?”

“You are so whipped”

Draco shoved you off him playfully.

“But it’s okay because I’m equally as whipped” you replied sitting back in his lap.

“You’d better be, otherwise I’d-”

“You’d what? Tell your father?”

“Right, that’s it” His fingers found your sides as he began tickling you. By the time he felt as though he tortured you enough, you were both breathless. 

“I love you," He said, smoothing your shirt down.

“I love you more”

“Who’s up here?” Filch’s voice grumbled. 

You and Draco grinned at each other as you quickly threw your robes on and lifted the hoods, running straight past Filch and into the Slytherin common room. 

You had now learnt what Draco’s favourite memory of you was. All that was left was actually getting around to paint it. If you weren’t in a lesson, you were revising, usually most of the time with Draco. Even on weekends, you found yourself in in the library completing practise exam papers and testing yourself on flashcards. And any time you weren’t working, you and Draco used as an opportunity to spend time with one another without being bogged down with work. You’d already decided that the room of requirement would be the perfect place to start painting, but the issue was figuring out how you’d be able to sneak there and back without arousing suspicion. 

After much deliberation, you decided that your best option for sneaking out was on Tuesday and Wednesday nights. Every Tuesday after dinner, Draco and Blaise would go out to the quidditch pitch to blow off some steam, by the time he had finished and showered, you were almost always already in bed. On Wednesday, you decided you’d tell Draco a little white lie and say that Flitwick had asked you to tutor a struggling 5th year in Charms, it would give you a few hours to yourself to get ahead with painting. 

The upcoming Tuesday your plan was in action, you made Daphne swear she wouldn’t tell Draco where you were and you made your way to the room of requirement. It was honestly a Godsend. You stepped into a room full of different sized canvasses, there were tubes of oil paint and palettes of watercolours and squeezy bottles of acrylic. A table was full of paintbrushes of different sizes and shapes and there were an easel and chair right in the middle of the room. 

You picked out a large rectangular canvas and placed it landscape on the easel and got to sketching the outline of your painting. If all went to plan, it would be a loop of Draco’s favourite memory of the two of you at the ball, if it didn’t well, then it would be a still image and if everything went south, you’d have to somehow find a way to get some lingerie to distract him from your lack of presents. 

Painting the canvas was going to be the hard part, sketching the outline, however, was proving to be a huge nightmare already, you had drawn and redrawn Draco’s face about a hundred times, not being able to get it exactly right. You were about to kick a hole in your canvas when a small a5 picture caught your eye, stuck under the foot of the easel. You picked it up to see a photograph of the exact moment you were trying to recreate. This was why you loved this room, taking a deep breath, you redrew Draco’s face finally getting it as you liked it. By the time you had finished the full outline, it was almost two am, you knew you were going to struggle to wake up in the morning, but that was something for future you to deal with, present you had to find a way to sneak out of the room and back to your dormitory without detection. 

In order to make as little noise as possible, you took your shoes off and ran across the castle in just your socks, you were only a few steps away from the entrance to the common room before Mrs Norris came around the corner. She meowed loudly as you whisper-shouted the password, the corridor revealing itself. You ran down it and straight up the stairs into your dormitory. You tried to get into bed as quietly as possible before falling asleep. 

In hindsight, staying up sketching until 2 am was a horrible idea. It was only 1 in the afternoon and you were struggling to stay awake. 

“I don’t get why you don’t just pay someone to paint it for you,” Daphne asked, scrunching a piece of paper into a ball and throwing it in the bin beside you.

“Because then there's no sentimental value behind it” You replied, massaging your temples.

“What time did you fall asleep anyway?”

“By the time I drowned out Pansy’s snoring it was 3, I was just lucky I had a free period first so I ended up getting an hours extra sleep”

“Merlin, remind me to never fall in love”

You laughed before rubbing your eyes and returning to your work. 

It took you four weeks of staying up till 2 am to finish Draco’s painting. You had spent hours mixing the right shades of paint, at one point you ended up getting rid of the paint on the whole canvas and starting again but exactly three weeks before Draco’s birthday, you had mastered the spell to make your painted figures move and your masterpiece was complete. Your only worry was that Narcissa Malfoy would hate it and would stop her son from hanging it in his bedroom. 

In order to get the huge canvas from the room of requirement back to your dormitory, you had to ask Neville to ask Harry if you could borrow his invisibility cloak. If Draco had found out that you got Harry’s help you were 90% sure he’d be the one kicking a hole in your canvas. For now, the canvas was safely tucked under your bed. 

The next morning, you stuffed Harry’s cloak in your bag and made your way down to meet him. You had agreed the previous evening that you’d meet outside Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom before breakfast to make the exchange. As planned, he was stood with Neville right outside the entrance to the toilet. You pulled the cloak out and handed it back to Harry. 

“Thank you, I know you and Draco don’t like each other, but it means a lot that you'd go out on a limb to help me.”

“While I question your choice in men, Y/L/N, you’ve helped Neville out on more than one occasion and any friend of Neville’s is a friend of mine.”

You smiled at Harry, “I’m gonna head to breakfast before Draco gets suspicious, see you boys, later”

They waved goodbye as you made your way back to breakfast, stopping in the normal girl's toilet to sort your shirt out which you found you were wearing inside out. Your group of friends were already sat down eating, all but Draco.

“Where is he?” You asked.

“Couple third years said they had to tell him something in private, oh wait, speak of the devil” 

You turned and he did not look happy. His jaw was clenched and he was walking oddly fast, he came to you and gripped you firmly by the arm. “Can I speak to you, outside, Y/N”

You looked at him confused but followed him out. As soon as you were out of earshot from the hall he turned around to face you, he looked pissed, he kept walking forward until you were pinned between him and the wall. 

“You want to tell me why some friends in 3rd year saw you giving Potter his invisibility cloak back?”

“What?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, darling, we both know you’re not. ‘it looked like she was holding something but there wasn't anything in her hand’. Why did you have his cloak”

“I was planning on recreating that memory of yours in the restricted section for your birthday, I asked Neville if I could borrow Harry’s cloak to get us there and back but then I remembered you wouldn’t have come if we were using his cloak so I gave it back” You lied smoothly 

He swallowed and nodded, not moving back. You pushed him off and scoffed. 

“Is this what you’re doing now? Sending third years to follow me?”

“You of all people should know I have eyes and ears everywhere.”

“Those eyes and ears shouldn't be snooping on your girlfriend”

“They wouldn’t have to if you weren’t lying to me about where you were for the past month.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Helping a 5th year with Charms as per the request of Flitwick? Well not according to the professor himself”

“Dra-”

He laughed, “Can’t even cover up your lies properly. Why don't I give you a few hours to come up with a cover story, I can’t bear the sight of you right now” Draco turned and walked away, ignoring you as you called out for him. 

He acted as though you didn’t exist for all of your lessons, he didn't sit next to you, he didn't speak to you, he barely looked at you. You chose to have dinner alone in your room that night. It had occurred to you during your second period that Draco thought you were cheating on him with Harry. It made sense, you were sneaking around and you were seen giving Harry’s cloak back as if to say that you two had been meeting up in secret under it. But it also made absolutely no sense either, you and Draco had been together since the beginning of your 3rd year. Your father was a death eater for Pete’s sake, it didn’t take a genius to realise you’d be disowned if you brought home Harry fucking Potter. 

You were partway through your transfiguration homework when Daphne came bounding up into the dormitory.

“Right, what is going on with you and Draco?” She asked, throwing her bag on the floor and collapsing on her bed.

“Nothing,” You lied.

“See that is absolute bullshit because he has been a moody prick all day and you skipped dinner, so come out with it, spill”

You sighed and explained everything. 

“Why don’t you just tell him the truth then?”

“Because if I do, it’ll ruin the surprise”

“And if you don’t it’ll end your relationship, my mother is over the moon at the fact that I’ll be a bridesmaid at a Malfoy wedding, you don’t want to crush her dreams do you?”

“You’re right, do you know where he is?”

“He went straight into his dormitory”

You nodded and made your way there. He was joined by his friends.

“Rest of you out, thanks,” You said, walking in and standing in the middle of the room. 

Blaise looked at Draco and he nodded, prompting him, Theodore and Goyle to leave. He refused to look at you. You took a seat at the end of his bed and began to explain.

“I’m well aware you think I’m cheating on you with Potter, but that’s really the complete opposite of what’s happening. The truth is, for the past few weeks, I’ve been arranging your birthday present. I finished it last night and I asked for Harry’s cloak so I could bring it back to my dormitory without revealing the surprise. That’s where I’ve been sneaking off to. Not to go snog Potter under his invisibility cloak”

“Oh”

“Bet you feel really fucking stupid now don’t you,” You scoffed

“I’m sorry, darling,”

“Do you not think? Could you imagine my parents’ reaction if I brought home Potter? They’d disown me faster than you came the first time we-”

He grabbed you into a hug before you could finish your sentence.

“I am truly sorry, princess, for jumping to conclusions and for ruining my surprise.”

“Well, you haven’t totally ruined it, you don’t know what it is yet.”

“Can we come back in yet, I need to get out of this fucking uniform” Theodore shouted from the bottom of the stairs.

Draco shouted back a yeah and his friends returned. 

“See you two’ve kissed and made up, about time too, Draco’s a right git when he's moody”

Draco threw a pair of balled-up socks at Blaise’s head before you got up off the bed.

“I’ll meet you in the common room once I’ve finished my homework,” You told him before pressing a soft kiss to his lips. He mumbled an okay before kissing you once more and you were on your way. 

The next morning, at breakfast, you noticed your father’s owl descend onto the table in front of you. You took the letter expecting him to fly off and return home but he waited expectantly, clearly, he was told to wait until you replied. He hopped up onto your arms as you took him to the owlery to recuperate while you read your letter and replied. 

Y/N, 

You’re hopefully aware that it is Draco’s birthday in a few weeks, I hope that you have got him an adequate gift. You know how important your 17th birthday is and as I remember, Draco spoilt you with 17 gifts. Since you are a young lady, you're not expected to gift him anything as lavish as some of the presents he gave you, but tradition dictates that you should get him something worthy of a pureblood wizard, in particular jewels. Please reply as soon as possible, only so I know that you won’t embarrass your father and I (and in the case you do, I can send you an alternative). Your brothers and your father send their regards. We miss you. 

Mother

You rolled your eyes at her need for keeping up appearances and quickly scribbled her back a reply. You wished you were at home to see her reaction to you gifting him a painting you painted yourself. Once your father’s owl had filled himself up with water and owl feed, you attached the letter to him and sent him on his way. 

Later in the evening, your mother’s owl pecked at you through the library window. You went out into the corridor and took a letter and a box off of her. Once you had freed her of her cargo, she hooted and flew off. You opened the second letter and read.

Sweetheart, I know that you are an accomplished young artist, but a painting will simply not do, especially for his 17th birthday. However, since I am your mother and I know you best, I had a feeling I would need to help you in this department. I took the liberty of going into Bourgin and Burke’s on the weekend and purchased a rare black diamond ring for Draco on your behalf. I think he will like it and I think you will too. I hope you are studying well for your exams, 

Mother

You tried to rip open the wrapping on the box but it wouldn't move. The fold at the bottom lifted itself up a bit and ran across your finger, giving you a papercut. A thin line of blood collected on its edge and the wrapping dissolved leaving you with a red ring box, she was always partial to a bit of blood magic. You lifted the lid to see a thick silver band, it looked like it was either white gold or platinum, your mother thought sterling silver was too cheap, the oval cut diamond set atop a larger oval of platinum. It wasn't too plain but it also wasn’t overly gaudy, just as Draco liked it. You returned to the library with your second gift, making a note to hide it under your bed with your painting.

The next few weeks went past in a blur of mock exams and constant revision. Your first exam wasn’t until the 10th of June, giving you plenty of time to celebrate Draco’s birthday properly. The night before his birthday, half of Slytherin house was gathered in the common room waiting for it to hit midnight. You asked the elves to bake a cake for him and smuggled it with some snacks to have a small party with your friends. 

At 11.59 you pulled a tie out from behind you and held it up.

“Gonna let me tie you up huh?” Draco asked with a smirk. 

“Nice try, Malfoy, but this is for you” You replied getting up and tying it around his eyes. 

“What are you doing, Y/L/N?” 

You pointed your wand at the wall causing birthday banners and streamers to hang. Blaise brought the cake in from the 1st year dormitory. The large grandfather clock donged deeply as it hit midnight, you pulled his blindfold down as the whole common room burst into a rendition of happy birthday. He laughed and put his arm around your waist pulling you into his side. Nott finished the song on a horrible high note as Draco blew his candles out. 

“Make a wish, Draco” Pansy shouted. 

“I don’t need to, I've got everything I could wish for right next to me.”

You smiled up at him and gave him a kiss before addressing the crowd. “Eat my friends,” You felt like Dumbledore as plates of food dotted themselves around the common room. The attention moved from Draco to the food as everyone got up and attacked. 

“Happy birthday, my love,” You said wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Thank you, princess, I wasn’t expecting this at all.”

“Only the best for my boyfriend”

You spent the next few hours playing truth or dare with your housemates, it was cut short when Snape barged into the common room, the decorations were ripped off the wall and the music from the radio stopped. 

“I am going to give you until the count of 10 to return to your dormitory, anyone I still see standing here will be spending every weekend for the rest of the year cleaning with filch”

He began to count down from 10 as everyone scrambled to run into their dorms and get into bed. 

You were so excited to surprise Draco with his presents that you skipped breakfast, instructing Daphne to tell him to meet you in the astronomy tower. You decided you were going to decorate your spot a little bit, you set up a soft blanket and some cupcakes and hung up the leftover banners and streamers from your midnight party in the common room. You had his gifts wrapped up with ribbon and some bows just to be extra, they sat in the centre of your blanket, the canvas taking up a large chunk of it. You had realised Draco would probably struggle to take the canvas back home, but that would be a problem he would have to deal with later.

 “Y/N?” His voice called out from the bottom of the stairs. 

“Up here, love” You replied, your head popping up over the bannister. 

He broke into a smile when he saw you and rushed up the stairs taking them two at a time. You sat on the edge of the blanket and waited for him.

“Happy 17th birthday, Draco” You exclaimed as he reached the top. 

His smile got even wider as he pulled you up and into a tight hug. 

“I am so in love with you, do you know that?” he mumbled into your neck.

“I hope you feel the same after you see your presents,”

“Darling, you know you didn’t have to get me anything, you’re the best gift I could have ever received”

“I didn’t have to but I wanted to, here look” 

His eyes fell onto the two wrapped gifts, he sat himself down and opened the top present. 

“How did you get your hands on this?” he pulled the ring out and examined it closely.

“RIght so backstory to this, my mum didn’t believe that my original present was traditional enough to be a ‘wizard’s 17th birthday present’ so she went out to Bourgin and Burke and got this, but I wouldn’t have given it to you had I thought you wouldn't like it, so think of this as a gift from your in-laws.”

“My father’ll be jealous, he's been wanting a black diamond in his collection for ages now” He put the ring back in the box and was about to shut it.

“Wait, let me put it on. you put my ring on, so I’ll put yours on, practise for the big day”

He smiled at you as you sat down next to him and pulled the ring back out of the box. He held his left hand out for you and you slid the ring onto his ring finger.  

“You know after this, they tend to kiss” He grinned. 

“Oh yes, of course, if we’re going to practise we should be thorough” You pulled his head down and his lips met yours for a passionate kiss. 

He pulled back after a few moments with a grin. 

“We should keep practising, just to be on the safe side”

“Enough flirting, Malfoy you have another gift to open”

He turned and picked up the canvas in his hands.

“Is this the one you were sneaking away for?”

You nodded and he began to tear off the wrapping. He got up and placed it against the wall and stood there looking at it, silently. He was silent for a while as he watched the loop of Draco spinning you out and then dipping you on your return with a kiss. Although he hadn't said anything, you got the feeling that he didn't particularly like this gift. He was probably thinking of a way to let you down easily.

“Do you not like it?” You asked quietly.

“What? No!” he turned around with a genuine smile. “I love it, darling, it's perfect. Honestly, it's beautiful.”

You physically relaxed and went to stand next to him. “You said you didn’t like the painting in your room above the fire so I thought I’d give you something to change it with, I’m just not sure if your mother would like it, since its not one of those classical masterpieces.”

“I don’t care what my mother thinks, as soon as I get home, I’m hanging this right up on my wall. I just never knew you could paint like this”

“My mum made me start painting when I was three, I stopped lessons as soon as I started Hogwarts but I kept it up on the side as a hobby and, well, I thought I’d immortalise your favourite memory of us.”

“You never cease to amaze me” He turned and pulled you into him “Thank you,”

“Don’t be silly it’s your birthday, stupid”

“Not just for this, for everything. For putting up with everything, the jealousy, the anger, the-”

“Hey, I’m not putting up with anything, I love you, Draco, all of you”

“Merlin, I can’t wait to marry you” His lips crashed into yours for a frenzied kiss, overwhelmed with emotion. “This is by far the best birthday I’ve ever had, nothing will be able to top this”

And he wasn’t lying. Whenever he was asked, by his kids, his grandkids even his great-grandkids, what his favourite birthday celebration was, his response was always the same, his 17th birthday.

#Draco Malfoy #Draco #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy one shot #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x reader #draco imagine #draco malfoy reader insert #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x female reader #draco malfoy x you #harry potter fanfic #harry potter imagines #hogwarts imagines #hp #hp imagines #draco lucius malfoy #slytherin

[sugarandspace]

A much-needed break (Sterek)

(posted on AO3 under the pseud aconitum)

Summary:  Finals are keeping Stiles busy and Derek stops by to make sure he's also taking care of himself.

Word count: 1,551

Read on AO3

Derek arrives at the door of Stiles’ dorm room a little after 6 pm on a Friday.

He’s been debating coming over for a few days now and decided today that he couldn’t wait any longer and had to do it. He’s been calling Stiles and texting him like they normally do while Stiles is at the campus and he’s been able to tell that his boyfriend hasn’t been quite himself. Stiles had insisted that he was fine, but the short replies and fewer messages hinted otherwise. Derek knew Stiles was busy with finals but he needed to see for himself that the other man was okay.

That’s why he had packed a bag for the weekend and drove to see Stiles.

He hadn’t told him he was coming over, knowing that Stiles would have tried to convince him that it wasn’t needed.

Derek knocks on the door and gets no response.

He tries again and when Stiles still doesn’t open the door, he tries the handle. He knows the other man is in the room, had spotted his trusty Jeep in the parking lot of the building when he arrived. Maybe Stiles was sleeping? Unlikely, knowing Stiles's habit to say up until the small hours, but still a possibility. To Derek’s luck, the door is unlocked.

He opens the door slowly to reveal Stiles’ dorm room. The room is a small one, having barely enough room to fit a bed and a desk. The room is very messy as well, the state of the floor hinting that Stiles hasn’t really been doing much laundry recently.

Pushing the door completely open, Derek finally spots Stiles. He’s sitting at his desk, his back to the door. He’s wearing headphones, which explains why he hadn’t heard Derek knocking.

Derek steps into the room and closes the door behind himself, slightly worried when Stiles still doesn’t have any idea that someone is standing behind him. It makes something twist uncomfortably in Derek’s chest to think about how vulnerable Stiles is like this, how anyone could walk in and Stiles wouldn’t realise until it was too late.

That isn’t the only thing that worries Derek.

The room stinks. Besides it being clear that Stiles hasn’t aired the room in what was probably days, the air is also thick in chemosignals that hint at strong stress and anxiety. Since starting to spend more time with Stiles, Derek had learned to associate the small undercurrent of anxiety with the other man's scent but this was something else. It was intense and nearly made Derek choke.

Focusing more on the figure that was hunched over the desk, fingers of his other hand buried deep in his hair, Derek can hear the heart that's beating too fast and the way Stiles isn’t breathing properly. It isn’t quick panicked breathing like when he is on the brink of a panic attack, but rather slow and shallow, like he has trouble breathing deep.

Everything in Derek screams that he needs to help his boyfriend.

He sets his bag down on the floor and walks towards Stiles, trying to make noise as he does so. He hopes that it alerts him but there’s no luck, Stiles is still looking at his laptop when Derek stands behind him. He doesn’t know how to proceed, because he doesn’t want Stiles to freak out.

He decides to take hold of the back of Stiles’ chair and spin him gently towards him. At least that way Stiles can immediately see that it's only him.

As expected, Stiles jumps in fright as soon as Derek starts turning the chair, but calms down when he notices Derek. He put his hand on top of his furiously beating heart before lowering the headphones.

“Derek!” He greets. “What are you doing here?”

“I was worried about you,” Derek tells him seriously. “I wanted to see that you’re okay.”

“I’m fine,” Stiles says, to which Derek only replies with raised eyebrows which makes Stiles continue.

“Okay yeah, I’ve been feeling a little stressed,” Stiles amends. “But what are you to expect when it’s the finals season?”

“You need to remember to take care of yourself as well,” Derek tells him gently.

“Yeah, yeah,” Stiles brushes him off. “I’ll have plenty of time for that later when I’m done with my exams. But I really need to pass these exams first.”

Derek looks at Stiles’ desk that is a mess of notes and random pieces of paper and books and pens. It’s chaos, but Derek has no doubt there’s some kind of order in it in Stiles’ mind.

Stiles goes to stand up but he sways dangerously when he does so. He has to lower himself back into the desk chair, his hand holding onto the back of it for extra balance.

“Whoa.”

“Are you okay?” Derek is at his side immediately, hovering in case Stiles needs help.

“Yeah,” Stiles says and waves his hand in dismissal. “Just felt a little dizzy.”

“When was the last time you ate?” Derek asks him, already knowing he won’t like the answer. He looks at the energy drink cans on the table and adds, “Or drank water?”

Stiles thinks about it for a while, for too long if you ask Derek, and eventually replies with, “It’s better if you don’t know.”

“Stiles,” Derek says with an exasperated tone.

“I’ve just been busy with studying,” Stiles tries to defend himself. “I get into the zone and the next thing I know the whole day has gone by. I’m sorry I haven’t replied to all your messages. My phone distracts me so I had to put it over there.”

Stiles points in the direction of his unmade bed and sure enough, Derek can see his phone on the part of the bed that’s as far away from the desk as possible.

“I don’t care if you don’t reply to all my texts,” Derek says honestly. “But I do care about how you’re doing. I love you Stiles and I don’t like seeing you treat yourself poorly. I can tell you haven’t been sleeping properly either.”

Stiles probably knows that it’s pointless to try to deny that, the bags under his eyes so dark that Derek is sure even Stiles hasn’t been able to miss them.

“Take a shower,” Derek says gently. “I’m going to go to the burger place down the street and get us something to eat.”

“But-” Stiles starts and looks at his desk, obviously wanting to go back to studying.

“When is your next test?” Derek asks.

“On Monday,” Stiles replies. “It’s the last one.”

“I’ll tell you what,” Derek says. “Let’s make a deal. You relax for one night and I’ll help you study tomorrow. We’ll take the evening off tomorrow as well and then I’ll help you on Sunday. You won’t learn anything if you push yourself to your limits. You need rest to process the information.”

“You’re going to stay the whole weekend?” Stiles asks, his expression so hopeful that Derek makes a mental promise right then to visit Stiles more often.

“The whole weekend,” Derek promises.

“Okay,” Stiles agrees and Derek can’t help but mirror the smile on his face.

-.-.-

When Derek comes back to the room with a bag of food in his hands, he finds Stiles sitting cross-legged on the bed, his hair still wet from his shower. He’s wearing similar attire to what he was wearing earlier - a t-shirt, a hoodie, and sweatpants - but Derek can tell that these ones are clean. The bed has also been made, and the dirty laundry has been gathered in the laundry basket. It looks like Stiles has also done a few other things to tidy the room up a little while he was gone, and he’s now reading one of his textbooks.

He lifts his eyes from the book when Derek closes the door. Derek levels him with a look that says ‘really?’ to which Stiles replies with a sheepish smile. He puts the book back on the desk and scoots further up on the bed, making Derek room to sit next to him.

Derek takes his shoes and jacket off and sits down next to Stiles.

“Jesus, how much food did you buy?” Stiles asks when Derek starts to unload everything to the bed.

“Enough,” Derek says. “It’s clear you haven’t been eating well.”

“Geez Der, way to make a guy feel insecure,” Stiles jokes.

“Not what I meant and you know it,” Derek says. “I was more referring to how you almost fainted earlier when you tried to get up.”

“Ah,” Stiles replies and doesn’t argue further.

They eat their food while talking about this and that, updating each other on things that have happened that they haven’t told on the phone or via texts. It makes Derek happy to see that Stiles is able to eat almost everything he brought for him.

After the food, they decide to watch a movie, and Stiles pulls Netflix up on his laptop while Derek takes off his jeans and shirt. They scoot under the covers and set the laptop on top of their legs, and Derek pulls Stiles close.

They are maybe fifteen minutes into the movie when Derek feels Stiles fall asleep against him, his breaths peaceful and deep.

#sterek #teen wolf #stiles stilinski #derek hale #sterek fanfiction #my writing #more 'old' fics from ao3! #in this blog we love to project

[blucmoon]

━  ☾ ⊹  ( lee sung kyung, cis female , she/her ) say hello to KWON INNA, the THIRTY ONE YEAR OLD that seems to have a lot in HER hands with HER job as a TRADITIONAL TEAHOUSE OWNER! beyond that, they seemed CONSIDERATE AND HARDWORKING upon first glance. i heard someone say they’re sort of GULLIBLE AND IMPATIENT though. SHE seems to live in a FOUR BEDROOM HOUSE in YUNHWA, SOUTH KOREA. anything else to add? oh, yeah! she also USED TO BE AN EDITOR AT A PROMINENT PUBLISHING COMPANY IN SEOUL!

about

name: inna kwon

birthday: september 10, 1989

age: 31

gender and pronouns: cis female, she / her.

orientation: bisexual,

birthplace: busan, south korea

hometown: seoul, south korea.

current location: yunhwa, south korea. (house #4013, hwesakgu)

level of education: b.a in korean language and literature & journalism (double major)

occupation: owner of the teahouse at yeyun inn

past occupations: editor at a prominent publishing company in seoul.

appearance

height: 176cm / 5’7ft

weight: 54kg / 119lbs

piercings: left ear; daith, flat, double helix, anti-tragus, upper lobe and lobe. right ear; helix, upper lobe and lobe. likes to wear cuff earrings often.

fashion style: used to stick to seoul’s fashion, always wearing luxury brands as expected from the daughter of a socialite family. suits, skirts, dresses, purses… she didn’t spare any expense when it came to her wardrobe. now that she’s in yunhwa, inna completely changed her style… and finally found one that allows her to feel comfortable in her own skin and stop pretending to be something she isn’t and never was. tight clothing was exchanged for dresses and skirts that dance with the breeze while she takes walks on the beach. sweaters, blazers and blouses that are two sizes too big on her, often making her to roll up the sleeves for comfort. pants, shorts and skirts of all shapes and lengths in a variety of patterns, mostly plaid, pinstripes, herringbone and every so often she’d opt for more striking, eye catching patterns (it has a lot to do with her emotional state). as for shoes, she changed the expensive stilettos for flats, boots and sneakers. for accessorizing, she likes to decorate her wrists with dainty bracelets and her hands with several rings in gold and silver, usually three in the left hand and five in the right one, sometimes stacked, sometimes one on each finger. depending on the season, she either wears delicate necklaces or fashionable scarves that cover both, style and function. her favorite way to dress is with pants, mostly cuffed jeans, a blouse or a shirt that she loosely tucks in and long coats, big cardigans or blazers on top.

eyes: a light shade of brown, almost reminiscent of melted caramel: equally as warm and sweet but doesn’t necessarily catering to everyone.

hair color and style: it’s been far too long since she’s last seen her natural hair color, which she vaguely remembers as a dark brown, so dark that she sometimes thought was just black. as she grew up and gained a little more of liberty to make her own decisions, her hair changed to a variety of colors: from red to black to light brown to blonde with pastel strikes. now, it’s dyed auburn brown, reaching the middle of her back and with bangs. she has naturally wavy hair, but only slightly, enough to not be considered straight. she likes it and would rarely ever go out of her way to do anything different like straightening or curling it, much preferring to let it cascade down her shoulders. halfway through the day though she can be seen pulling it up in messy buns or ponytails, or even braiding it whenever she has some free time.

personality

positive personality traits: disciplined, honest, considerate

negative personality traits: impatient, stubborn, gullible

bad habits or vices: stressing over things she can’t control, smoking once or twice a day (more when she’s anxious or stressed), late night snacking, drums her fingers everywhere.

birth chart: virgo sun, capricorn moon, leo rising

mbti: isfp

enneagram: 4w3

hobbies/interests: reading under the sun, journaling, listening to music directly from vinyl, playing chess and jigsaw puzzles, riding her bike to and from work and around town, nightly drives and two in the morning street food, online shopping, sales hunting, cooking.  

background (tldr)

inked words in a piece of parchment were all it took to turn her life around.

one day, she held a crown over her head, titles of excellence under her arm and an engagement ring around her finger. inna was the oldest daughter, the next in line, the one that was meant to achieve greatness first between the three siblings and set the example for them.

having the kwon surname was a synonym of high expectations and never did she fall short of any of them. inna was an exemplary woman, hard working and, most importantly, one that rarely voiced her opinions.

nonetheless, the day she came across a letter addressed directly to her was the day she started questioning who she really was.

sometimes, the protection that comes within hiding the truth is much needed to keep someone blissfully unaware of the reality; to keep them from unnecessary pain. inna doesn’t blame her parents for sheltering her, but she does hold it against them for underestimating her and not telling her she was adopted sooner.

the letter was short and the sender’s penmanship was gorgeous, clear, easy to read… and one that was completely strange to her. yet, she claimed to be her biological mother and promises of some answers came within a will, one that conceded her the ownership of a property and a teahouse, both allocated in yunhwa.

after several days of contemplation, arguments between her and her mother and research about a town she’s never heard of before, inna made a decision. one motivated by the final straw that came in the shape of a selfish partner whose only real interest was to have the perfect trophy wife. packing her whole life into cardboard boxes and several suitcases isn’t nearly as difficult as she first expected and so she leaves without looking back.

saying goodbye to seoul leaves a bittersweet taste as she drives five hours to yunhwa, only stopping when arriving at the address on the will. the woman spent almost an hour observing the front of the rather old house and it was clear that no one had habited it for months; overgrown plants on the small garden at the front, dust collecting on the windows… and the unknown behind its closed door.

she had no idea of what to expect, of what she going to find. it’s deeply scares her, the truth has never been an easy thing to swallow and she second guesses her plans when someone, apparently her mother’s acquaintance, stops by and the first thing they tell her is “you have her eyes.”

that’s all it takes for inna to make up her mind.

background (full)

inna is the oldest daughter of the kwon family, who were not famous per se, but well-positioned in the high society of seoul. her father had a couple of restaurants and her mother was the director of a publishing company she built from the ground. other than that, they’re your average rich family with parents having great expectations on their children to either follow their steps or achieve greatness on their own. inna was the ‘firstborn’, older than her brother for seven years and nine years older than her sister.

an absolute sweetheart as a kid, easily charming everyone with her dimpled smiles and lighter-colored eyes, a striking feature that didn’t resemble neither her mother’s or father’s very own eyes. however, it was never questioned neither was it unwelcomed. instead, it was appraised and even something her mother often showed off.

almost always been a well behaved daughter; charming, polite, obedient. the classic oldest daughter schtick and her mother constantly reminding her to set the example for her siblings only added to it. sure, she got into her fair share of trouble; a broken heart more than once, underage drinking (not too often), maybe cheating in an exam once or twice or copying someone else’s homework, but she made sure nothing would suffice to tarnish her or her family’s reputation permanently.

it’s in high school, after taking a literature class and discovering her love for reading and writing, that she decided to study something along those lines. not so surprisingly, her decision was fully supported by her mother which, admittedly, made her hesitate. inna had the gut feeling that the moment she shared her plans, her mother had already further paved the path of her future.

trying to look past this, college wasn’t nearly half as bad. actually, the years spent studying korean language and literature as well as journalism (double major nerd over here) were her favorites. between her junior and senior years, though, she took a sabbatical year (it was her 21st birthday wish and her father easily caved in despite her mother’s disapproval) to travel and her first destination was paris followed by london, tokyo and lastly california.

graduating at twenty two, inna immediately got a job in her mother’s company and slowly worked her way up until achieving the position of editor-in-chief at twenty seven. inna was really good at her job and she knew what it took for the company’s publications to become best-sellers, but she never shone whatsoever.

all her achievements never seemed to be hers for the spotlight always landed on her mother and rumor had it that inna got where she was thanks to her mother, which is partly true. sure, getting the job was a given, but everyone failed to see how exigent her mother- her boss was, or the amount of criticism she got without anyone noticing, or the late nights at the office, or the weekends without a break. still, inna never went out of her way to discredit the rumors, already knowing that changing people’s minds was 1. difficult and 2. pointless. every word, jab and snide comment directed her way fell on deaf ears.

inna wasn’t particularly discontented about her job, but she didn’t feel fulfilled either.

something felt constantly amiss and the sensation of being utterly lost was nothing new to her either. her dreams, goals and ambitions were all stored away, collecting dust and spiderwebs, just like her unfinished manuscripts safely kept in a box at home. being an author was her biggest dream, not reviewing, editing and telling other authors what to do to become a hit. inna wanted, longed to be on the other side.

however, there always seemed to be excuses for her not to: endless work, new publications, new clients and projects, then promotion after promotion and, lastly, a new partner that asks her hand in marriage by the time she turns thirty.

he was sweet, caring and always supported her professional growth. idealistically, the perfect partner. the kind that she introduced to her parents without hesitation or having to tell him to keep something a secret to avoid their disapproval. none of that happened this time compared to previous partners of hers. inna should’ve known something wasn’t right about someone so flawless, so selfless. maybe a part of her felt it from the get go, but in her position, the next “natural” step after having a stable career, was getting married and forming a family of her own. so when he asked (nothing too out of the world, just a family dinner), she couldn’t say no.

life was seemingly perfect.

the wedding planning midway through and one of the books the company published and she personally supervised became a huge success in the country, even getting a contract for a drama adaptation, thus the remuneration she got was big. rumors of a new office opening overseas where often heard across the building as well as inna being in charge of it. she couldn’t be happier.

it was the calm before the storm.

one afternoon at her parent’s house everything went downhill.

her mother asked inna to bring her a manuscript from her office. unsuspecting, inna was looking for it through the drawers when accidentally coming across an envelope with her name beautifully written on it. curiosity had always been her best and worst trait, and this time she couldn’t help but reading the contents.

the letter was short and the sender’s penmanship was gorgeous, clear, easy to read… and one that was completely strange to her. yet, she claimed to be her biological mother and promises of some answers came within a will, one that conceded her the ownership of a property and a teahouse, both allocated in yunhwa.

after several days of contemplation, arguments between her and her mother and research about a town she’s never heard of before, inna made a decision. one motivated by the final straw that came in the shape of a selfish partner whose only real interest was to have the perfect trophy wife. packing her whole life into cardboard boxes and several suitcases isn’t nearly as difficult as she first expected and so she leaves without looking back.

saying goodbye to seoul leaves a bittersweet taste as she drives five hours to yunhwa, only stopping when arriving at the address on the will. the woman spent almost an hour observing the front of the rather old house and it was clear that no one had habited it for months; overgrown plants on the small garden at the front, dust collecting on the windows… and the unknown behind its closed door.

she had no idea of what to expect, of what she was going to find. it’s deeply scares her, the truth has never been an easy thing to swallow and she second guesses her plans when someone, apparently her mother’s acquaintance, stops by and the first thing they tell her is “you have her eyes.”

that’s all it takes for inna to make up her mind.

still, everything feels strange to her as she steps into a house that’s now hers, but has never visited before or even had an idea of its existence. it’s overwhelming, to say the least, to encounter what inna assumes was her mother’s way of living. the further she stepped into the house, she noticed that nothing really matched and every piece of furniture seemed to have been purposely selected to differ from the rest. every chair in the dining room was different, some looked older than the rest and traces of restoration were clear on the mismatched filler between the cracks. a homemade project is what inna assumes. it was a mess, but somehow, a beautiful one.

that’s the first thing she learns about her mother: she liked to give things a second chance.

sleeping in that house wasn’t plausible for several reasons, mostly because she didn’t like the idea of reside there in its current state; the cracking floor, the thick layer of dust that caused her to sneeze repeatedly and she swears a rat had made that place its home. inna immediately planned to do some renovations and reparations and, until the bedroom and kitchen were fully functional, she’d make do by finding another place to stay.

her next stop was yeyun inn, the second location indicated in the will where he was to take over her mother’s business: the teahouse. this was something that absolutely dumbfounded inna, not knowing anything about running a place like that for her core occupation was a stark contrast from it. still, she was aware that the savings she had, despite being a respectable amount, would only last for so long and most of them would be invested in the house anyway.

troubled, she presented the will to the innkeeper as well as her living arrangements problems, which were easily solved by temporarily moving into one of the inn’s rooms. however, the teahouse was different and inna has been struggling a little to learn all there is to learn about it. four months later, inna is still in yunhwa, still learning all she can about her mother and only recently moved into her new house after some renovations were over.

it’s conflicting to be there and be constantly compared to a woman that was a complete stranger to her. somedays, inna feels flattered, especially when they mention their eyes, but most days, she’s angry. she’s resentful. she’s annoyed that the chance of meeting this seemingly wonderful woman that the whole town loved was taken away from her.

some things to note

inna has been in yunhwa for 4 months, never heard of the town before or anything about her mother. she doesn’t know if she’s here to stay permanently or what, but meanwhile, she plans to make this place her home and this is why she considers herself a citizen.

has not been in touch with her family (except her dad) since she moved into yunhwa. leaving seoul meant leaving everything behind: her job, her engagement, her family, her friends.

it’s nice to not be compared to her adoptive mother and siblings here because whenever this happened in seoul, it was all backhanded compliments… but here in yunhwa, she often has to put up with the same thing, only that nicer and because of her biological mom. sometimes she’s polite, but some days, inna immediately shuts down anyone who even tries to tell her anything (as politely as possible… or not)

actually inna’s biological and adoptive mothers knew each other. her mother adopted her because her biological mother was in a really bad stage in her life and knew she couldn’t provide her daughter the life she deserved. her adoptive mom hadn’t been able to have kids as much as she tried, so at the moment it sounded like a good idea. they made a promise to not tell inna until her mom was in a better place where she could meet her daughter without any shame.

after the adoption, both kept in touch every couple of months for her adoptive mom to update on inna’s life, achievements and everything. this is exactly why some townspeople are prone to know about inna: her mother used to show her off a lot, even showing some photos she got.

her adoptive mother wasn’t supposed to be able to have kids, but seven years after adopting inna, she got news of pregnancy… and again 2 years after that. the dynamic didn’t change much, but her mom has always been extra exigent when it comes to inna and a little more lenient with her siblings.

her biological mom got her life together after struggling for a while and became a really important part of yunhwa’s community. she helped anyone who needed it and tried to find ways to improve the town just to make life a little better. so yeah, inna’s mom was well-known, especially after she got the teahouse (approximately 20 years ago), where she welcomed anyone to share their woes or joys over a cup of tea.

the process of cleaning the house was a long process because of all the things her mother had. she kept some furniture like the table and chairs from the dining room and a beautiful desk, but the rest had been mostly ruined due to the rats. yes, rats. (its okay, the house has been fumigated.)

while going through and selecting her mom’s belongings for donations and stuff, inna found several things that she was able to keep like a box of letters her mother wrote her but never sent, tons and tons of journals she used to write short stories in and that never saw the light and her mom’s vinyls collection. (inna drove all the way to busan to get a new player because hers didn’t work anymore).

the house is still undergoing renovations, but she’s able to live there despite it since they’re done through the day while she’s at the teahouse. she’s slowly becoming a plant mom because of the beautiful lighting the house has and now that she’s not as busy as she was in seoul, she has more time and patience to take care of them properly.

is still struggling to learn the business, but doing a whole lot better than her first month running the teahouse. she also became absurdly fascinated by tea and is absolutely surprised there’s no boba tea in yunhwa yet so she’s made this resolution to learn how to make bubble tea and sell it. (looking for guinea pigs that can taste her delicious creations.)

(cw: smoking) she smokes, an awful habit she got from her working days in the city. has been trying to quit even before she moved into the town but its been to not avail. she’s managed to reduce her intake to one or two a day, but in those days that she’s more stressed, it doubles.

don’t come @ her but she has rich girl hobbies: knows how to play chess and actually enjoys it a lot, she even brought with her a board her father gave her when she was younger and is keen to find someone that plays with her, even if she has to teach them herself.

is shopping a hobby? yes, and she does it quite often though she’s found a secret joy in hunting sales. every so often she likes to splurge and label it as self-care.

enjoys a good wine anytime and if she has a craving in the middle of the night for a good bottle, she’d drive all the way to busan in order to satisfy this. maybe treat herself a dinner or perhaps clubbing? who knows.

has a car but has rarely used it since she moved into yunhwa because the town is so accessible by walking or bike that she decided to buy a bike instead. it’s her favorite method of transportation and uses it everyday to get to work.

#INFO.TXT #INNA.EXE #LOC.YUNHWA

[all-things-skam]

Jens’ season | Chapter one

Tuesday, January 7th

Winter break had quickly gone by and school was already starting again - much to the boys' displeasure. The return to school was tough for some, their sleeping schedules being messed up from staying up late after partying all winter break.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t so cold that morning. Jens and the boys stood outside the building, chatting as they waited for the first bell to go off. Moyo was kinda falling asleep, and Robbe had this huge, bright hickey peeking out of his hoodie.

''Nine times? Don't you think that's a little bit exaggerated?'' Jens said, not quite believing Aaron’s story.

''I'm telling the truth. We fucked all night long. It was... wow. Orgasm over orgasm over orgasm ove-''

''Okay, okay. We get it,'' Robbe interrupted, putting a stop to Aaron's detailed night with Amber.

Aaron scoffed. ''You're just jealous you and Sander have never had a torrid night like us.''

Since getting together with Amber, Aaron didn’t seem to be able to stop talking about her. It was all he talked about now: her - and what they did together in bed. Jens got him. Truly. Losing your virginity is a big moment - more so when your first time was with the girl you've been after all year. However, the boys didn't need - nor want - to hear every little detail of his and Amber's sexual life. The curly haired one had always been an oversharer, but now that he was dating Amber, it was worse - if that was even possible.

Robbe's cheeks flushed, flashing back to his night at the penthouse. If only they knew...

''Girls bodies are different, Robbe.''

''Are they? I didn't notice,'' the brunet responded, light sarcasm out

Moyo laughed. ‘’And you? What’s going on with Jana? You two were quite cozy on Saturday,’’ he said, raising his eyebrows knowingly, because everyone had seen the two making out in a hallway at the party.

Jens shrugged, having not much to tell. ‘’I don't know. We're letting things flow and seeing where it'll go, I guess,’’ he replied, brushing it off. ‘’We don't want to go too fast and make the same mistakes.”

He had kinda got back together - if you could even call it that - with Jana at Robbe's Christmas party, sharing a kiss again for the first time after months of flirting and dipping toes around each other. It took them a long time to want to try again, kiss again, but they were glad to have waited.

Even though breaking up had been hard as hell, it was the right thing to do. Their relationship had become toxic; Jana's guilt and paranoia had to stop. They had reached a state where staying together was only causing pain and although it broke their hearts to come to this conclusion, sometimes, love wasn’t enough.

‘’If you and Jana get back together, we could all go on a triple date. You, me, Robbe, Sander and the girls,’’ Aaron suggested, already looking forward to the non-agreed date.

Robbe shook his head, not on board with this idea. ‘’Sander and I are not going on a date with you and Amber.’’

‘’Jana and I are taking things slow. We’re not going on a date anytime soon,’’ Jens reminded him.

Dates had never been their thing either, being barely fifteen when they started dating - and, like, very broke. The closest to a date they ever had was watching movies on a laptop. The freezing screen and adds for pornographic websites weren’t what you’d call romantic.

Aaron furrowed his eyebrows. ‘’Sander is practically a part of the Broerrrs now and Jana and Amber are friends, so why not-’’

‘’Because Sander can't stand Amber,’’ Robbe blurted out, having enough of walking on eggshells concerning the two. Sander had made it clear the day they met at Seaside that he didn’t like Amber. He found her too bossy and annoying for his taste.

Between them, Moyo made ‘oooh’ sounds, adding drama to the on-going spat.

Their conversation was drowned and ignored as Jens looked away, eyes falling on a boy with dark blond hair and a denim jacket. Jens didn’t know why, but he couldn’t help looking at him. There was something on this unknown boy that drew his attention and gave him an odd sensation he couldn’t quite explain or understand. What the fuck?

''Who is that?’’

As if on cue, the unnamed teenager looked back at him, giving Jens a good look at his face. He was all angular jaw and tousled, curly fringe.

‘’Some new kid that just moved here from the Netherlands. I think his name is Lucas,’’ Aaron responded, for once being aware of the latest gossips. ‘’Why?’’

Jens shrugged, tearing his eyes from Lucas, turning back to the boys. ‘’Curious. Hadn’t seen him here before.’’

.

Wednesday, January 8th

Hood on, Jens stood outside Lotte's school, waiting for her to get out. His mom had messaged him, asking to pick up his sister after school because she replaced someone at the hospital and couldn't pick her up. Jens didn't mind - and it helped ease his mom's mind. Lotte was only eight, still a bit young to walk by herself.

There was ten minutes left before Lotte would be released, so Jens pulled out his phone, seeing new messages from the Broerrrs group chat.

Moyo: BOYS!! We need to find an idea for the next vlog. We haven't put anything up since the start of exam week…

Robbe: The vlogs... I forgot about those

Moyo: Maybe if you’d stop sucking face with Sander for a minute

Robbe: We’re NOT always kissing…

Aaron: That’s all you two did on break! I even saw Sander wiping his mouth at a party 😏🍆💦

Robbe: WHAT?!

Jens: As if you and Amber were any better

Moyo: So? Anyone has ideas for the vlogs?

Aaron: What about a mukbangs? Can we do mukbangs?

Moyo: No mukbangs

Aaron: Why not? They’re cool to watch

Moyo: Maybe, but it’s fucking expensive, man. Do you have any idea how much food we need to buy to do mukbangs?

Jens: Yeah, you could barely afford McDonalds last friday 😂

Aaron: Fuck you!! Unlike you, I had a Christmas present to buy for my girlfriend

Moyo: We could do a twister? Have you guys seen the painful twister challenge?

Robbe: Painful twister?

Moyo: It’s like twister, but when you fall, you do a ‘painful’ challenge like eating a hot pepper or going in an ice bath or even waxing a leg

Jens: My sister has a twister mat, I’ll bring it

Moyo: We’re doing it?

Jens: Fine with me

Robbe: Same

Aaron: We’re not gonna do too painful things, right? Please no electric shock

Jens: Electric shock it is!

Moyo: Sunday 2pm at mine?

Robbe: Can’t. Sander and I are having lunch with my dad

A bell went off and the gates opened, freeing everyone. Then, a huddle of kids hurried out of the school, accompanied by a hubbub of voices and laughters. They ran toward their busses while others walked on the sidewalk, heading home by themselves.

‘’Jens!’’ a cheery voice called in the distance.

He looked up from his phone and smiled as Lotte ran in his direction, happy smile on her face. Her beanie was pulled down too much, almost covering her eyes. Jens let out an ‘oof’ as his sister collided into him, hugging him by the waist.

The brunette pushed up her beanie so she could see better. ‘’Where’s Mama?’’ Lotte asked with a frown, not seeing her around.

‘’Someone was sick and she had to replace them at the hospital. It’s gonna be just the two of us tonight.’’

Lotte pouted, her sad face tugging at Jens’ heart. ‘’She’s always working.’’

‘’I know... What do you say we watch Frozen 2 tonight?’’ Jens offered, knowing how much his sister wanted to see it since it came out in theaters.

Her eyes brightened and face lifted immediately at the mention of the Frozen sequel. ‘’For real?’’ Jens nodded. ‘’All my friends saw it during Christmas break and I’m the only one who didn’t. I have to plug my ears every time they talk about it because I don’t want to get spoiled. Mom said she’d take me, but never did.’’

Jens chuckled, easily imagining Lotte trying to block the spoilers. ‘’Well, you can tell them all about it tomorrow.’’

‘’Yes! You’re the best brother.’’ She went for a second hug, jumping excitedly.

Most siblings who are on opposite ends of the age scale have trouble getting along. Having this much of an age gap means having very different interests. Teenagers tend to need space and don't like their stuff to be touched while children are always in the mood to play and a bit invasive - or curious.

It wasn't the case for Jens and Lotte. Jens loved being an older brother. He took his role very seriously and fully embraced the protective big brother role.Sure, she was annoying at times, always asking questions about everything - but she was eight years old, what could one expect?

Despite that, Jens loved spending time with her whether it was helping with homework or watching movies in their pajamas during the weekend. Nothing made him happier than seeing a big smile on his Lotte’s face - except maybe knowing he was the one that made it appear.

.

Thursday, January 9th

''Left hand on blue,'' Robbe called, being the first to spin the wheel.

Instead of playing the classic way, they decided to all move for every spin. It was more fair to measure everyone's flexibility and endurance. So far, Aaron was losing sorely, having chosen a farther blue circle than necessary.

Jens snickered, seeing his friend's move. Had he ever played Twister?

''Right hand on red.''

This one was easy, at least when you started the right way. Now, Aaron was already struggling, thanks to Moyo, who purposely picked the red circle closer to Aaron.

''I was going to use that one!''

Moyo shrugged. The two others laughed. ''We never agreed to play fair, did we?''

Robbe spun the spinner, watching as Aaron attempted to slide his hand under Jens's chest to reach the other red circle. ''Left foot on green.''

Jens carefully elongated his leg back, putting the asked foot on a green circle, succeeding. Robbe gave him a thumbs-up, but when he turned back to the boys, Moyo's ass was right in his face. He grimaced. ''No... Move away! Get your ass out of my face, man.''

''I can't. It's Aaron's fault. He messed the whole game up when taking the wrong circle,'' Moyo justified.

Guilty, Aaron laughed. ‘’What, how am I supposed to-’’ He was cut off, losing balance when he moved his leg and ended up falling on top of Jens. ‘’Fuck.’’

Robbe snorted. ''And you said you had gotten more flexible now that you’re having so much sex.''

‘’I am. It’s just- The mat is slippery, okay? It wasn't my fault,'' he tried to defend, but it didn't matter because he had fell anyways. First loser.

“That’s what happens when you don’t take off your socks, man.” Moyo laughed, gesturing to everyone else's bare feet.

Standing from the mat, Jens went to grab the wax strips he bought for the video and held them high for the camera. ‘’Wax time!’’ he and Moyo declared at the same time.

He warmed the wax strips with his hands as Aaron rolled up one of his pant’s leg, revealing a very hairy limb. Jens shared a look with Robbe, looking forward to see their friend suffer. He put the wax strip on Aaron’s leg, smirking. There was no going back, now.

‘’Want me to pull it slowly or one shot?’’

‘’Go slow-’’ He was cut off as Jens didn’t listen and pulled it one shot, making Aaron’s leg throb in pain. ‘’Ow!’’ Aaron curled on himself, holding his - now hairless - leg as if it would lessen the pain. ‘’Holy fuck! Why do girls do that to themselves? That shit hurts.’’

Once Aaron had semi recovered from his waxed leg, Moyo took Robbe’s place and spun the spinner, going for a second round.

‘’Okay, Broerrrs, let’s start.’’ Moyo rubbed his hands together excitedly, watching as the arrow circled around and stopped on a color. ‘’Right foot on yellow.''

Again, Aaron didn’t seem to get the rules of the game and used the yellow in Jens’ part of the mat. ''Aaron, what the fuck? This was my yellow,''

Robbe and Moyo laughed as Aaron removed his foot and chose another one. Someone,please, help this child...

After a couple rounds, their asses were in the air, resembling the downward-facing dog position. While it was semi-comfortable position, the next move wasn't.

''Left hand on green.''

Jens, being taller than the other two, was able to reach the green circle. He grinned as he watched Aaron and Robbe struggling. By some miracle, they reached a green circle as well and the game continued.

The next to fall was Robbe, toppling over and causing everyone to join him on the floor. A hot pepper was presented to him and he had to take a bite. There were tears pooling in Robbe’s eyes at how spicy it was. He was not able to feel his lips for the next two rounds.

Moyo managed to crack his pants in the third round, making a move he probably shouldn't have. Despite the clothing casualty, it was gonna be good laughing content for the vlog.

Then, Robbe accidently put his foot on Jens’s hand and Aaron was caught cheating. He swore he wasn’t aware of the ‘only hands and feet are allowed on the mat’ rule, but the boys decided to give him the benefit of the doubt, not wanting to start an argument.

This was, certainly, a memory to tell.

.

Friday, January 10th

Jens’s bedroom door creaked open, pulling him from his sleep. As he woke up, the echoes of his parents' screaming match became clearer, informing him that his dad was home. It’s been like this since December. Jens’s dad had been working at the same office for over fifteen years and, when his boss felt the company’s sales going downhill, he was one of the unlucky employees who got fucking fired. Fired.

Sighing, Jens rubbed his eyes, prying them open, and saw Lotte's standing figure at the foot of his bed, waiting expectantly. It was dark, but he could see the purple giraffe plushie she was holding to her chest. He glanced at the time on his phone: almost 1am.

Sitting up, Jens scooted closer to the wall and lifted his comforter, making room for Lotte. She quickly crossed the floor and crawled under the covers.

‘’Are mama and papa getting divorced?’’ she asked in a small voice.

Jens’s heart sank at her question. He shifted and wrapped his arms around her, fuzzy pajamas tickling his skin. He didn’t know what to say, what to do - he didn’t even know where she’d learned that word. At her age Jens didn’t know what divorce was, less wonder if it was going to happen to his parents.

“Don’t worry Lotte, everything’s going to be okay.’’ His arms hugged her tighter, hoping it would reassure her a little...hoping he was right. He knew that hearing their parents fight so frequently was affecting her more than him, but he didn’t realise just how much more.

.

His skilled hands were under Jana's top, thumb grazing over her unpadded bralette, making her nipple harden. She arched her back as they kissed, trying to create friction between their bodies.

They had escaped to a free bedroom minutes ago, seeking the intimacy and proximity that they couldn't allow themselves in the middle of the party.

This bed wasn't near as comfortable as Jana's, but it did the job for their mid-party make out session. A better choice than the bathroom, at least. In here, no one would bang on the door and yell about needing to use the toilet.

A moan left Jana's lips as Jens kissed down her neck, her bitten fingernails scratching at Jens's back under his tee shirt - why was it still on? Jens smiled smugly, remembering his ex-girlfriend’s body and its reaction to his touch like they never broke up the year prior. Some things just can’t be forgotten.

The loud music echoed inside the room, Travis Scott’s latest hit playing. It wasn’t really a song to bang to, but they weren’t the ones in charge of the playlist, were they?

Jana hooked her leg around Jens’s waist, fingers grasping the sheets as he kissed his way down her stomach, knowing exactly where this was going. ‘’Jens…’’

.

Readjusting his hoodie, Jens ducked out of the bedroom he was in. His hair was probably still messy from Jana running her fingers through it. He pulled out his phone, texting Moyo to ask where they were, in the mood to smoke a joint. Nothing tasted better than a blunt after a blowjob.

At least, at the moment.

‘’Got lucky tonight?’’

Looking up, Jens recognized the new guy at school. Lucas, was it? He was standing in the hallway, red cup in his left hand, leaning against the wall as he raised his eyebrows suggestively, a smug grin on his lips.

Jens frowned. ‘’Uh?’’

‘’I saw your girl leaving the same room and adjusting her shirt a minute ago. Not that I was stalking you. I was just...there, I guess,’’ he explained, bringing his cup to his lips, taking a slow sip.

‘’Oh, you mean Jana?’’ Jens shook his head, correcting him. ‘’She’s not my girl. Not anymore.’’

Lucas hummed, interested in the new information. ‘’So, you’re the kind of guy who fuck with his ex?’’

The question took Jens by surprise. He blinked. Did he hear him right? Who was this guy to assume things about him?

‘’What? We didn’t-’’

‘’Clearly, something happened in there and, by the look of your lips and messy hair, no talking was involved,’’ he said, raising his eyebrows suggestively again before holding his hand out. ‘’I’m Lucas.’’

‘’Jens,’’ he replied, shaking the other boy’s hand.

Before they could carry on with their party small talk, someone hooked their arm around Jens’ shoulder. ‘’There you are! I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Robbe disappeared with Sander and Aaron is sucking faces with Amber.’’

“Here I am,” Jens said, laughing at Moyo’s comment about their friends. “Did you get my text?”

Moyo shook his head, a questioning look on his face. ‘’No…’’

“Do you have the weed?”

“Ah, yes.” Moyo replied, pulling a joint out of his pocket and handing it to Jens, who took it gratefully. ‘’Want some?’’ he asked, nodding at Lucas.

‘’Normally I’d say yes, but I actually should be heading home now.’’ Lucas raised his eyebrows, blue eyes on Jens. ‘’See you around, Jens.’’

Moyo was distracted by someone behind them talking and Lucas took the opportunity to wink at Jens, before walking off and leaving the other boy baffled.

What. The. Fuck.

#jens stoffels #jens's season #wtfock #lucas van der heijden #vds #van der stoffels

[13-reasons-ideas]

Marry Me

A/N: I decided to take a stab at doing a songfic. It is MontyxOC and I hope you guy’s like it. I based it off of Thomas Rhett’s Marry Me. This part is from the bride’s perspective. For this part, I recommend listening to the bride’s perspective linked below. There will be another part from Monty’s perspective coming soon. This is a long one. I hope you like it as much as I do. As always, much love. Word Count: 7963

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xqxEYUcW-cU

My fiancé, Evan, and I finally made it to San Fran International Airport, after a long day of traveling from Atlanta. I managed to get some more wedding planning done on the plane from Dallas. My parents were throwing us a second engagement party at home, so we made the trip out early on after he popped the question. Once we had left baggage claim with our bags, I led him through the airport to pickups.

He insisted on holding the bags while I looked for Scott. My parents weren’t able to get off work, so he had kindly offered to pick us up in San Francisco. I searched the crowd and spotted him standing off to the side, near a vending machine. “Scott!” I called as I waved and broke into a run towards him. He caught me in his arms and twirled me around.

“There she is.” He muttered into my hair as he put me down. I felt Evan put his hand on my back and I leaned into him. “You must be the one who stole her heart. I’m Scott.” He said, sticking his hand out.

“Evan.” He replied, shaking his hand firmly.

“So, let’s see the ring.” I smiled brightly at him and showed him my round two carat pave ring. He whistled when he saw it. “That’s nice. It suits you. Did she pick it?”

“No, I looked at her Pinterest.”

“Smart man.” Scott said as he picked up my bag and walked us out to the car, Evan’s hand firmly in mine the whole time.

On the way back into town, Scott shared stories of all the trouble I used to get my friends in and out of in high school. “There was this one time none of us had studied for a midterm coming up and so Ellie here called us all over to her place, and sat us down with colour coded notes, charts, the whole thing and spent the whole weekend tutoring us.”

“Only because you all had to pass that exam to stay on the team.” I interjected.

“El, it’s not like they would have kicked the whole team off the team. We were all pretty antsy by the end of the weekend.”

“But they could have cancelled the rest of your season. How happy would you have been then, hmmm?”

“Fine, fine. You win. But what about that time Monty and Bryce decided to climb in that old treehouse in Bryce’s backyard and you had to call the fire department?”

“You mean the time they almost fell out a tree? Yeah, I remember that. I also remember not speaking to either of them for like three days afterwards.”

“Oh, don’t think I forgot that detail. Monty wouldn’t shut up about it until you finally talked to him again.”

“Not my fault genius one and genius two climbed into a treehouse they hadn’t been in since they were like eighty pounds lighter. Bryce cried, Scott.”

“You didn’t talk to them because they went in a treehouse?” Evan asked.

“No babe. I didn’t talk to them because they got stuck in a treehouse. And I couldn’t climb up there to save their genius butts because any more weight would have sent the whole thing tumbling to the ground. And then Coach would have had my ass for breaking them.”

“I’m guessing there was alcohol involved in these shenanigans?”

“Oh yes.” Scott laughed, “they were drunk off their asses. Monty hugged one of the firefighters.”

“Ellie mentioned something about him not being a hugger.”

“He isn’t. Took him like 4 years to hug me. And I’m his best friend. We had food poisoning together when we were younger, and he still wouldn’t do it.” I shuddered at the memory.

“Lovely.”

“Yeah, but anywho. They barely made it into the pool house before they passed out.”

“We don’t call her Mom for nothing.”

“Okay designated Dad friend.”

“At least when we hung out after homecoming we didn’t-” Scott started. My eyes widened. Are you serious Scott?!

“Trip and fall flat on our faces in front of the whole school?” I cut him off quickly.

He gave me a weird look in the rear view. Thankfully, Evan was looking out the window as we were getting closer to town. I gave him a what the fuck look back. “Uh, yeah. That was pretty funny actually. Matt and Garrison were so excited we won that they tripped over their own feet and faceplanted.”

Evan didn’t appear to be listening anymore. Scott drove the rest of the way and when we got into town, I texted Monty. Hey you. I just got into town with Evan for the weekend. Are you free tonight?

He texted me back a few minutes later, yeah I’m free. What’s up?

“Don’t worry about showing him the noteworthy spots. We are going to look around after church on Sunday.” I mentioned to Scott, not looking up from my phone. I replied to Montgomery swiftly, drinks or coffee? Just you and me. My parents are going over some details for tomorrow with Evan that they don’t want me around for.

Sure. Meet you at Monet’s at six?

I’ll save you a seat. Usual order?

You know I don’t change things Elliebear. I smiled affectionately at the nickname and put my phone away. Scott had pulled up in front of my parent’s house.

“See you tomorrow Scotty.” I told him, reaching around the driver’s seat to rub his hair.

“El, not the hair. I’ll see you. It was nice meeting you Evan.”

“You too, Scott. Have a good night.”

The door opened as soon as we set foot on the front walk and my mom poked her head out. “Hey Mom. I’ve missed you.”

“Oh, come here and let me look at you.” She cooed, pulling and prodding me to get a good look.

“Mom, relax. I haven’t changed that much since the last time I saw you.”

“Hello Mrs. Davis. How are you?” Evan asked her as he pulled me closer to him to stop her examining.

“I’m lovely dear. Robert set up the guest room for you. Ellie, you’ll be in your own room.”

“I know Mom. Wasn’t expecting anything less.”

As we walked into the living room, dad looked up from his newspaper, “hey sweetheart, Evan.” “Mr. Davis.” Evan greeted and shook his hand firmly.

“Now now, what have we told you? You will be family soon enough. It’s Robert or Dad.”

“And Jillian or Mom.” My mom added.

“I know. Habit.”

“Well Ellie-muffin, what did you want to do tonight for your first night back in town?”

“I thought you had to talk to Evan about stuff. And I understood from mom that I wasn’t supposed to be there. So, I kind of already made plans….”

“That’s right. I told you about it last week Rob. We have to go over stuff for tomorrow.”

Dad thought for a moment, trying to remember the conversation, “that’s right. Sorry Jill, I’ve been busy with work and stuff that it must have slipped my mind.”

“What are you doing tonight, beautiful?”

“Just going to get a coffee with Monty now that I’m back in town.” I told him, casually. It’s just coffee and catching up with a friend.

“That sounds like fun. Let him know I’m looking forward to meeting him tomorrow.”

“I will. I’m going to run upstairs and change. You guys have fun down here.”

“What about dinner, Ellie?”

“It’s okay mom, I’ll just grab some soup or something at Monet’s.”

At about twenty to six, I decided to head out. I chose a cute, casual ensemble. I had thrown on one of Monty’s old baseball shirts, that I stole in the ninth grade or something with some jeans and sneakers. It was comfortable and he never asked for it back, so I kept it. Sometimes I wore it to run errands or when I was running late to class in college. “Bye guys. Love you Evan.” I called from the door. My family had holed themselves up in my dad’s office to talk about the party tomorrow, and I had strict instructions not to disturb them. I heard a chorus of ‘bye’s from the house as I left.

I beat Monty to the café but that wasn’t surprising really since I had left so early.

“Hey, what can I get you this evening?”

“Can I get a-”

“She’ll get a skinny vanilla bean latte with only one pump of vanilla, a dash of cinnamon, and extra foam in a for here cup. I’ll get a regular black coffee. And she’ll also have the chicken and spinach sandwich.” I heard Monty say behind me. The barista looked at me, unsure if she should ring it in or not. I nodded at her and turned around to face him. Before he had a chance to say anything, I jumped into his arms for a hug. I did manage to salvage some dignity and not screech in his ear.

“Hey Elliebear.” He said after grunting from the impact.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

Our orders were finished quickly as it was surprisingly slow for a Friday night. Luckily, that meant our table was free. We sat down and conversation flowed easily. It was almost like we had never been apart.

“The ring is nice. It suits you. Bigger than I thought you would like but it’s nice.”

“It is nice, yeah. That reminds me, Evan said he’s looking forward to meeting you tomorrow.”

“So am I. See who finally caught your interest.”

“I was interested in other people before Evan.” I told him, scandalously.

“Ellie. That guy from drama class doesn’t count. And neither does your chemistry partner.”

“I was not interested in Adam. And Zach was my chemistry partner. I can assure you I was not into him.”

“Please, enlighten me as to these people you were interested in before Evan.”

“There was,” I paused. You. “Dylan from sophomore English was cute. Ian. Couple other guys in high school. Peter from my first year anthropology class was… very attractive, and smart.” I’ll just leave out that Peter was the professor.

“One guy aside from Evan? University of Georgia is a big school. There’s no way you only had eyes for two people.”

“I was busy. I practically lived in the library when I wasn’t in class or my dorm. What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Is there a girl I should be hearing about? Or should have heard about?”

“Nah. Nothing important or anything to write home about. I was busy.”

“Oh please Monty, you played ball at OSU. You honestly expect me to believe there was no girl in your life?”

“No, no. There were girls. Just nothing really serious.”

“Uh, huh.” I replied, sarcastically. When I reached for my cup, he reached for his, and our hands brushed. I was immediately transported back to the day of homecoming in senior year.

Flashback

“Remember students. The homecoming game is tonight at 6:30. You’ll want to be there early as our Liberty Tigers take on the Hildebrandt Mustangs if you want good seats. It’s sure to be a nail biter.” Principal Bolan’s voice boomed from the intercom during the morning announcements.

“In order for it to be a nail biter, our team would actually have to have a chance at winning.” Alex muttered to Clay and me.

“They are playing Hildebrandt. We could literally not show up and still win.” I told him, as I adjusted my bag on our walk from Alex’s locker to mine, where Zach was meeting me before chemistry.

“Maybe they got good over the summer. Didn’t Bryce spend the summer in Greece or something? Relaxing and drinking poolside?”

“I think it was somewhere in Italy, actually.”

“Either way, I don’t think he spent his summer bulking up and practicing for the season.”

“I mean, they have Monty.”

“And? What did he spend his summer doing Ellie?”

“When I wasn’t at camp, we spent the summer together. There was no poolside drinking. When I was at camp he hung out with Scott and did boy stuff. They also worked out a lot.”

“How was camp by the way?” Clay asked.

“It was good. Learned a lot from my campers. They learned a lot from me. Only one incident of blood. It was pretty good.”

We had made it to my locker, and I was arranging my books when I felt myself being pulled into someone’s arms and lifted off the ground. “Montgomery, put me down!” I laughed, feeling my whole body shake.

“Never.” He laughed, evilly.

“I have to grab my chem book. And go to chemistry.”

“I’ve got it.” Zach’s voice drifted over to me, “you carrying her to class today?”

“Nah, I thought about it but since I had to come find her this morning, I figure she can make it there on her own.”

“I was running late. My alarm didn’t go off when it was supposed to.”

“Excuses, excuses.” Monty replied, putting me down and shaking his head. I turned my attention back to my other friends.

“I’ll see you guys later? Zach and I are running late.”

“Sure. Justin said if I don’t go to the game tonight, he’d tell mom and dad about Ani. And I don’t want to deal with that.”

“Someone has to keep Clay company, so I have to go too.” Alex said, pushing clay lightly.

“Great. I’ll see you then. See you at lunch Monty.”

Lunch seemed to take forever and a half to arrive. I knew sleeping in would mess with my day. The guys were already at their usual table when I arrived and sat next to Monty, no closer than we usually did. “Ellie, think you could pray for us to not lose this game tonight?” Bryce sniggered from the end of the table. I only rolled my eyes in response.

“Hey, quit being a dick.” Monty told him. Bryce responded by chucking a grape at him.

“It’s fine Monty. Not like he hasn’t done it before.” I didn’t have to look up from my lunch to know he was sporting a displeased face. “It’s going to take a lot more than God to help you win if you don’t learn to throw better than that in the next six hours. But sure.” I made a show of getting myself ready to pray verbally, but not with intention, “Lord, please help the guys win tonight. Give them the ability to not trip over themselves when they make plays. And God, please show Bryce how to make the ball go where it’s supposed to and not hit some poor kid in the head again. Maybe, just maybe, then he will get laid tonight and we all know that’s really why he asked me to pray.”

The boys laughed hysterically around me as I smirked at Bryce.

“You need to quit hanging out with Monty, he’s rubbing off on you too much. And I was serious.”

“I know. I’ll do it for real after lunch. You can sit with me if you want.” I offered but knew he would decline.

I ran home to change after school for the game. “Mom, have you seen my baseball shirt?” I called, searching my room for Monty’s shirt.

“The last I saw it, it was on your dresser.” I dug around on my dresser for a bit until I found it.

“Thanks Mom.” I called, shrugging it on. I quickly fixed my hair and grabbed a sweater before bolting back out the door to meet Alex before the game.

I met him in the school parking lot, at about six. “Hey Lex.”

“Hey El. Clay should be here soon and we can go find a seat.”

“That’s good.” We made small talk for a few minutes before Clay pulled up in one of the Priuses. Pri-i?

“Hey guys. Ready to go watch us get our asses handed to us on the field?”

“Your brother is playing Clay. Have a little faith.”

“I guess you’re right. I can’t say he isn’t a good player. But even still. Justin and Monty can’t carry the whole team all night.”

“Scott and Charlie help. Zach is good.”

“Oh goody. Five of forty-seven players are good. That makes me feel so much prouder of them.” Alex joked as we found a decent seat in the middle of the stands at the beginning of the row.

“Well, just think, if we do win tonight, then the team will be too busy celebrating to give anyone a hard time for a few days.”

“Now that you mention celebrating Ellie, if they win are you going to go with Monty after the game?” Clay asked

“I told him I would meet him at Monet’s with the rest of them whether we win or lose.”

“Okay. Can you keep an eye on Justin? I don’t really feel like going out with the football team for the evening.”

“No problem. Is everything alright?”

“I think he’s just trying to figure out where he fits now that he’s doing better and on the team. I don’t think he thought he would get this far.”

“That’s fair. I’ll make sure he sits with us for a bit. See if I can make Monty play nice.”

“See if you can? Ellie. He would jump off a cliff if you asked him to. I don’t like him, but I know he likes you.” Alex argued. Likes me? I mean sure, as his friend. Right? I brushed off the thoughts and where they could lead and have occasionally led in the past.

“He doesn’t really like heights. But I guess you’re right. He’s my best friend.”

“Sure. Best friend.” Alex said, shaking his head. I watched him share a look with Clay.

“I’m going to go grab a water, you guys want anything?”

“No, I’m good thanks.” Clay said, his eyes scanning the crowd of arriving students, likely for Ani.

“Nah. Mom sent me with some kind of weird protein thing. It doesn’t taste half bad, so I’ll just have that.” Alex said, shaking a bottle. I nodded and ran down the bleachers to the concession.

After getting a bottle of cold water, I ran back up just before the game started. The teams had just gotten on the field and had lined up. As expected, the game was in our favour most of the first half. I waved at Monty occasionally when he was on the sidelines and he looked over at me. He smiled and waved back. During the second half Hildebrandt seemed to find their groove and the game was at least interesting. It wasn’t really much of a nail biter as Principal Bolan had promised this morning, but it wasn’t really boring either. Everyone knew that regardless of how we played, we would probably win. The game ended and the team and the crowd were excited. Matt and Garrison were so excited by the win, they tripped over their own feet and faceplanted on the sidelines. The excitement died down for a moment until they shot up and went on celebrating. As the team filtered off the field, students began leaving. “See you Monday Ellie.” Alex said as we hugged goodbye.

“See you. Have a good weekend guys. I have to go catch up with Monty.”

I spotted him waiting for me by the locker room, gym bag on his shoulder. “Good game.” I said as I walked up to him.

“Of course, it was. I was on the field.”

“Modest as ever I see.”

“Do you expect anything else at this point Elliebear?” “Not really. But I can hope, maybe one day.”

“Maybe, but not likely.”

“Oh hey, while I’m thinking about it, Clay asked me to keep an eye on Justin tonight.”

“Is everything okay?”

“I think so. Clay said something about him having issues adjusting and stuff. Do you think you can play nice with him for a while?”

“I suppose, since he is your friend, I can try and be nice for a while. But not all night. I want some Ellie time.”

“And you’ll get your Ellie time. After you make nice with Justin.”

He sighed and was about to respond when Bryce called us, “are you two going to stand there and chit chat all night or are we going to celebrate?”

“We’re coming. Give us a minute asshole.” Monty called back to him. Bryce waved him off and walked away, leaving us alone.

He turned his back to me, “hop on”, he told me as he bent down slightly. Once I was secure against his body, he began to walk us out to the parking lot. Because he wasn’t paying attention, it was the perfect time to steal his hat. Plucking it off his head, I placed it on mine. It was slightly too big, but I didn’t mind.

“That’s my hat El.”

“I know. I happen to like it though, so I’m wearing it.”

“I’m not getting it back tonight, am I?”

“Nope. It is now mine. Might even write my name in it.”

“You do that Ellie. I won’t care when I steal it back who’s name it has in it.”

“Fine. Then I’ll readjust it.” I smirked.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh, I would.”

He laughed as we arrived at our cars and he set me down. “No, you wouldn’t.” He shook his head for emphasis, calling my bluff. I pushed him lightly and rolled my eyes.

“Whatever. I’ll see you at Monet’s in a few with your precious hat.”

True to my word, I arrived at Monet’s a few minutes later, Monty’s hat placed firmly on my head. The place was packed with students celebrating the win. I went to the counter and greeted Skye, placing our usual orders and adding whatever Justin usually got. Once placed, I turned to look for a table. Luckily most students knew where Montgomery and I sat so our table was clear. Making a couple of trips, I placed the drinks on the table and pulled out my phone. I texted Justin quickly, hey Justin. I grabbed you a coffee. Feel free to sit with Monty and I when you get here. Don’t worry, he agreed to be nice. He replied with a thumbs up. The sound of a chair scraping the floor next to me startled me. “I see you told the truth. Can I have it back now?”

“No. I think it looks quite fetching on me, if I do say so myself.” I spoke regally, swiveling my head to show him from multiple angles.

“Fetching?”

“Yes. Do you disagree?”

“No, I think it looks good on you.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Monty and I chatted quietly before Justin showed up. “Hey guys.” He said, standing slightly awkwardly to the side of the table.

“Justin! You made it.” I exclaimed, smiling. Monty shot me a tone it down look. He smiled back at me as I stood and moved next to Monty. “Make room.”

“Can do sweetheart.” He charmed, patting the chair next to me. I rolled my eyes and tried to ignore the flutter in my stomach when he called me sweetheart, before sitting down.

“Thanks for the coffee Ellie.” Justin told me, taking a sip.

“No problem.” The three of us chatted idly for a while. Monty was nice to Justin and even laughed a few times at one thing or another he said.

Somewhere along the line of our conversation, our hands drifted towards each other under the table. I felt his hand wrap around mine and I felt my cheeks flame. The flutters were back, and I looked at him from the corner of my eye. He acted like he hadn’t noticed that we were holding hands. “Hey Justin, come over here and look at this.” Charlie called over to our table. He was looking at something on Garrisons’ phone. Justin waved to him and stood up, taking his coffee with him. I wonder if he noticed we are holding hands. Maybe he’s leaving us alone for a reason. Maybe….

“And then there were two.” Monty spoke, pulling me from my thoughts before they could go any further.

“Then there were two.” I echoed.

“That shirt looks good on you. It’s pretty familiar too.”

“Oh, yeah. There may be a reason for that.”

“Need to go talk to Mike?”

“Not if you don’t have a problem with it. I think he would agree it was simply borrowing, rather than stealing. No need to involve Jesus.”

“I am. So now you’ve got my shirt and my hat. Anything else you intend on taking of mine?”

“Possibly. Depends what else you’re willing to offer.” I flirted slightly, moving my hair behind my ear.

“I think there’s a thing or two I could offer you Ellie.” He flirted back, leaning in slightly. Oh my goodness. He’s going to kiss me. My thoughts immediately began flashing forward at a rapid pace. Us going for innocent coffee dates. Introducing him to dad as my boyfriend. The possibility of church on Sundays. Introducing him to Pastor Mike. Our first fight. Making up from said fight. Getting accepted to the same college. Graduation. College. A ring. Coming home and getting married in the little white church just out of town. Marriage. Kids. Sitting on our porch when we are old and grey. Before he could kiss me, Bryce called him from across the room. He stopped just short of my lips and looked over at him, “what?”

“My place, half an hour.” He called back. Monty nodded in response and turned back to me. I was smiling at him, trying to hide the fact that I was mildly hurt he stopped short of kissing me. Or that I was annoyed that my mind had gone so far once again. I chuckled and took a drink of my coffee. I looked at my watch and saw that even though it wasn’t necessarily late late, it was late enough that I could get away with leaving on account of the time.

“Shoot. Is that really the time? I have plans with my mom in the morning. I should get going.” I said, getting up and grabbing my bag.

“Oh, okay. Are we still on for waffles Sunday afternoon?”

“Yeah. Be at my place around one? I need to talk to Pastor Mike about a few things after service.”

“I’ll be there. Text me when you get home.”

“I will.” I said, trying to keep the hurried tone out of my voice. I just want to get out of here. I took my cup back to the counter and made my way to the door, trying to keep an even pace. I didn’t look back as I left the café.

End Flashback

Shaking the memory from my mind, I pried some more. “What about the blonde girl you told me about briefly?”

“Sara?”

“Yeah.”

“She was nice. Very peppy and chipper though.”

“Ah yes. Need to keep up that stoic exterior. Can’t have someone too chipper, lest people think you have a soul or something.”

“Exactly.” He laughed. He took a long sip from his cooled coffee. “Can you imagine if I brought her home?”

“Well, knowing your mother, I would probably be attending your engagement party tomorrow instead of the other way around.”

“Oh probably.”

“How is your mom doing, by the way?” “She’s doing okay. After dad died, she was pretty out of it for a few months. She’s gotten better with time though. Really started to come into her own and forge her own path.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“Not going to ask how I’m doing Ellie?”

“No. I know how you’re doing.”

“Oh really?”

“Montgomery. I am your best friend. Your dad was never a parent. DNA doesn’t make someone your family. You’re doing the same as you did the day you left and vowed to never speak to him again.”

He looked surprised at me. “Sometimes I forget how well you know me.”

“I know. That’s why I have to remind you all the time.”

“Yeah, yeah. How did Evan react to Scott on the way from the airport?”

“I’m not totally sure. I don’t think he realized how things worked at Liberty and exactly what you and I being friends meant. Scott told him about the treehouse.”

“Oh no. Ellie. I need to look the guy in the eye tomorrow.”

“I know you do. Don’t worry. He didn’t seem upset or anything. I think he found it amusing actually.”

“Did he tell him anything else?”

“About you?”

“Yeah.”

“No, mentioned how you guys fucked up and didn’t study for midterms and I singlehandedly kept you all on the team. And how Matt and Garrison managed to keep themselves above their feet until after homecoming senior year.”

“Of course, he did.”

“Don’t worry. Evan will like you.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I like you. And even though you think you are, you really aren’t a bad guy.” We talked for about another hour or so, just catching up, before we decided to call it a night.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Three o’clock sharp.”

“Good.” I said squeezing him in a hug. When we pulled apart he looked down at me, seeming to finally notice my shirt.

“Is that my shirt?”

“Yes it is.”

“I thought I lost that years ago.”

“You never asked for it back. We agreed that I technically borrowed it, remember?”

“Yeah but I also thought you would have given it back by now.”

“I mean, I can give it back to you tomorrow if you want it.” I offered.

“No, no. You keep it. You seem comfortable in it.” I smiled at him in response before he hugged me again and we said goodbye.

The next morning was somewhat hectic in the Davis household. My mom was up at a time God himself would shake his head at, doing last minute cleaning. My dad was up shortly after, making sure the yard hadn’t disappeared overnight or something. I woke up around ten and before I could even get a sip of coffee in me, I was already being bombarded with questions about what I was wearing or how I was doing my hair by my mom. Jeez Louise, if the engagement party is like this, what will the wedding day be like? “I have a white dress with flowers I was going to wear. It’s strapless and cute. Dressy enough for a party.”

“Strapless?”

“Yes Mom. It is strapless. I brought a cardigan to wear with it before you have a coronary.”

“Well I suppose that is alright then. And your hair?”

“A simple curled high ponytail. I have an elastic with a bow on it to use. I have thought about this you know.”

“I know dear. It’s just all so exciting, isn’t it? My only daughter is getting married.”

“Very exciting, yes.” I grumbled. “Now will you please let me go get a cup of coffee?”

“Can’t that wait darling? We have so much to do.”

“She will be much more of a help after a coffee Jillian.” Evan spoke from the hall upstairs. “Give her a few minutes to wake up and she will be ready to go, won’t you El?”

“Yes, I will.” I replied, moving towards the kitchen in search of the rich black liquid. Evan came down and grabbed the milk from the fridge to steam for my latte. “Thank you, I appreciate that you did that.” I whispered to him, gratefully.

“Of course, Buttercup.” He muttered into the top of my head and measuring out the perfect amount of milk into the pitcher, before half emptying a packet of Splenda into my mug. I set to work grinding and packing the espresso powder. I enjoyed my latte over my Bible while Evan got ready for the day’s events.

Shortly after I had gotten dressed, the caterers arrived, and it became even more hectic. They were finishing various dishes and trying to make room in the fridge. I watched on from the sidelines and tried to stay out of the way as much as possible. Evan came over to me and placed his arm around my waist. “You look beautiful.”

“You look great too, handsome.” I blushed, placing my arm around his waist too. Finally, around 2:30, the caterers had finished all of the food and set up. Cupcakes had been delivered and were set out on cake stands. Balloons were up and fairy lights lined the crown moulding around the living room. The room looked perfect.

Guests began arriving just before three. Justin and his girlfriend Sasha were the first to arrive. Justin and Jessica had broken up halfway through their first year of college, the strain of long distance becoming too much for them. They were still amicable in social situations though.

“Hey Justin. Hello Sasha. How are you guys?” I greeted them, warmly.

“We are good.” Justin replied, his hand firmly placed in hers.

“Hey guys.” Evan greeted them. The pair waved in acknowledgement.

“Let’s see the ring Ellie.” Sasha gushed. I held out my hand while she examined and fawned over the ring. I caught Evan and Justin share a look. Oh boy. This could get interesting for the man.

We continued greeting guests, accepting congratulations and gifts, and smiling as they arrived. Monty showed up right at three, as promised. “Hey you.” I greeted, beaming at him.

“Hey Elliebear.” He said, pulling me into a quick hug. Evan stood to the side, giving us a moment. I pulled away and turned towards Evan.

“Evan, this is Monty. Monty, this is Evan.” I motioned. They shook hands.

“So, you found the way to Ellie’s heart, huh?”

“Yeah. She is something special. I thank God every day that she decided to give me a chance.”

“Don’t I know it?” Monty replied, almost whistfully.

My mom called me over and I decided it would be a good idea to perhaps not leave the boys alone together. “Coming Mom. Scott is over there by the cupcakes.” I said, pointing him out. “Try to keep him from eating himself to a sugar high?”

Monty laughed, “can do Ellie. It was nice meeting you Evan. Congratulations.”

“You too Monty. Enjoy the party.”

I watched as he walked over and greeted Scott, taking a glass of champagne and a cupcake for himself. My mom called me over again and I ran over to see what she wanted. The party went off without a hitch. The only thing that concerned me was the way my eyes sought out Montgomery all afternoon and not my fiancé. Not to mention the all too familiar fluttering in my belly whenever I was near him or made eye contact with him.

**

The day had finally arrived. After a year of meticulous planning, it was finally my wedding day. All of the stress and details and late-night crying had all led up to this one day. The church was beginning to fill with guests. The loving memory sign was placed near the altar. I thought of how my granddad would have been the one to preach the service if he was still with us when I decided on the placement. My bridesmaids had already left the room to line up to walk down the aisle. Evan would be at the altar by now. I stared at my reflection in the mirror. I couldn’t shake the feeling of fear that was becoming harder and harder to ignore.

My off-white wedding dress was on, my veil in place on my head, and my makeup and hair looked flawless. Everything was perfect. Almost everything. I shook in the bridal room, waiting for the planner to call for me. You can do this Ellie. I fiddled with my engagement ring for a moment before I heard Melissa knock on the door, “we are ready for you Ellie.” Forcing a big smile on my face, I nodded to her and walked out of the room where my dad was waiting to walk me down the aisle.

“You look beautiful sweetheart.” He told me as I handed him my engagement ring for safe keeping and took his arm. The chapel doors opened, and Evan turned to look at me from the altar. I could tell his eyes were wet with unshed tears and when he saw me, he covered his mouth and looked up, trying to hold the tears back. The crowd was standing watching our reactions. My bridesmaids smiles beamed from the altar, brightly. I trained my eyes on him as my dad walked me down the aisle. My dad gave me to Evan and Pastor Mike began the service.

“We are gathered here today, before God and those closest to Ellie and Evan to join them in in celebrating their love and commitment to one another.” He continued speaking, “when Ellie called me to announce her engagement, I was thrilled for her. By the time they got around to coming back to Evergreen County from their home in Atlanta, and they asked me to officiate, I knew my answer would be a resounding yes. Getting to know Evan and see these two together over the last number of months, has opened my eyes to how these two help each other in their journey to seek to know and have a relationship with the Lord. Ellie mentioned early on in planning to me, that her favourite verse in the Bible is 1 Corinthians 13:4-8 and expressed the importance of including it on this special day. I would like to read you that verse now.  4 Love is patient and kind. Love is not jealous or boastful or proud 5 or rude. It does not demand its own way. It is not irritable, and it keeps no record of being wronged. 6 It does not rejoice about injustice but rejoices whenever the truth wins out. 7 Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance.

8 Prophecy and speaking in unknown languages[a] and special knowledge will become useless. But love will last forever!”

Pastor Mike continued speaking, but my eyes had begun to scan the crowd. They swept from one side of the church to the other. Near the back on the right side, next to the door, I spotted some of my friends. I saw Scott and Justin, along with Sasha, sitting with Charlie and Zach. Bryce surprised me and RSVP’d yes, even if part of me knew he knew I only invited him out of politeness. He was sitting next to Charlie, sandwiched next to Clay and Alex. As my eyes continued to scan the room, I didn’t see him. When they landed on Scott and I maintained eye contact for a moment, he shrugged, and frowned slightly. He isn’t here. He didn’t come. Tears filled my eyes and I turned back to Evan, my hand still resting in his. I made sure to smile so it appeared that I was merely overwhelmed with joy and not feeling my heart be crushed with despair. “Evan Andrew Taylor, do you take Ellie Marie Davis to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part, according to God's holy ordinance?”

“I do.” Evan replied, wholeheartedly.

“And do you Ellie Marie Davis, take Evan Andrew Taylor to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part, according to God's holy ordinance?”

I took on last look at the crowd gathered around us and made eye contact with Scott before turning back to Evan, “I can’t. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” I spoke quietly, letting go of his hand. I looked back at Scott and nodded to him. He turned to Justin and Zach, as the crowd gasped. I stepped down from the altar and it seemed to kick my friend’s butts into gear.

“Shi-” Scott started before realizing he was in a church. “Shoot.” He amended, quickly. He stood up and met me at the end of the aisle as my friends joined me in running out of the church. To our surprise, Bryce tossed Scott his keys and Zach picked me up to carry me to the car. “Zach drives.” He said, giving me a thumbs up.

We were in Bryce’s car before Scott spoke again, “did that really just happen?”

“Yeah. Yeah it did.” I was still in shock.

“Why?” Justin asked as we drove away from the church.

“He wasn’t there.” I said simply, staring out the window. “I couldn’t marry Evan knowing that I was in love with someone else. I couldn’t stand up there and say I do to him when I was praying for someone to stand up and object. Or to be up there with me instead.”

The boys were silent for a while as we drove around. Scott was in the front, looking for Montgomery’s car in every lot we passed. Justin was holding my hand tightly, trying his best to soothe me.

“You should know that he was. There.” Zach advised, “he wanted to be, but he couldn’t mess things up for you and he couldn’t sit and watch you get married to someone that wasn’t him.”

I didn’t respond, I merely tried to absorb the information I was being given. He was there. Why didn’t he come and tell me anything? Why didn’t he mess things up? I was pulled from my thoughts when my phone vibrated, alerting me I had a text. It was from Bryce. Monet’s. Your table. I never thought I would see the day where I would honestly thank Bryce Walker and mean it once, let alone twice. “He’s at Monet’s.”

“How do you know?” Zach asked, glancing in the rear view to make a lane change and turn us around.

“Surprisingly, Bryce.” I watched as my friend’s brows all raised. They couldn’t believe it either.

I was silent as Zach drove the rest of the way and parked across the street from the coffee shop. I scanned the building quickly, searching for any sign of him. I spotted him in the window, at our table, just like Bryce had said. Monet’s had become licensed a couple of years back, so they could serve alcohol. Monty was sitting alone, in his black suit, nursing what appeared to be a tall bourbon, neat.  “Go get him El.” Scott encouraged me. I nodded and checked for traffic before opening the door and stepping out of the car. Damning laws at this point, since the street was clear, I half ran across and yanked open the door. The few patrons and baristas looked up and appeared slightly annoyed at the sudden, rude intrusion, before they took note of my attire. White dress, veil, hair and makeup applied. It became clear that I was here on a mission and it wasn’t only coffee or a quick shot of liquid courage. Picking up my dress slightly so I didn’t trip on the stairs, I walked over to his table. “Is this seat taken?” I asked, softly.

He looked up at me, his eyes widening in surprise and full of unspoken questions.

“I couldn’t do it if you weren’t there. You’re my best friend Monty.”

He scoffed quietly before replying, “it’s not taken, no. Sit if you want,” and taking another drink from his glass, not looking at me.

“Hey,” I started, reaching for his hand. He looked at my hand and after a pause let me take it, “I mean it. I couldn’t marry him.”

“Why not?”

I was quiet while I thought over how to explain my feelings. Noticing he had about fingers width of bourbon left in his glass, I grabbed it, downing the rest of it.

“Hey. I was drinking that.” He protested. That was all the courage I needed.

“I couldn’t marry Evan because he wasn’t you. And you weren’t there to say anything by the time I walked down the aisle. You were just going to give me away and live the rest of our lives wondering what if.” I told him while I stared into the bottom of the now empty glass, too afraid to look him in the eye.

“You- really? How did you know…?”

“Zach told me.”

“I know I wasn’t there Ellie. I just. I couldn’t sit there in that church and watch you marry him. And I knew I was and would be too much of a coward to stand up and say something when I saw you standing up there with him. I had to let you be happy.”

“Don’t you get it Montgomery? I wouldn’t have been happy. Not really. Or at least not for long. Not with Evan.”

“So why did you agree to marry him?”

“Because I thought it would be easier? My friends liked him, my family liked him, I liked him. I just thought that it would be easier to ignore my feelings. I could marry him, officially move to Atlanta, come home a couple of times a year, have a couple of kids. It all seemed easier than admitting to myself that I was in love with my best friend and if I really, truly wanted to be happy, I would need to be with him instead. And that admitting that would change everything. But I’ve learned over the past year that easy doesn’t always mean happy. And sometimes what we think is easy in the short term, isn’t always easy in the long term.”

He chuckled lowly, “took you long enough.”

I furrowed my brow at him, “what is that supposed to mean? I just confessed my love for you, and that’s all you have to say?”

“Yeah. It took you long enough to come to that conclusion. You were what? Half-way through the ceremony before you put a stop to it?”

“Not exactly. I knew a while ago. I spent the whole morning shaking and waiting for you to come and tell me that I was making a mistake. When you didn’t come, I thought… that you either didn’t feel the same way, or that you were going to do the kind thing for once and not say anything, but I thought at least you would be there. When I saw that you weren’t, I knew I couldn’t marry him. Even if it was the easy choice.” When he didn’t say anything I added, “you picked a great time to do the kind thing.”

“Yeah, well. You knew it would happen sometime. You owe me another shot by the way.”

“Oh please. There was barely a fingers width in your glass.” I told him, sighing dramatically.

He looked at me through his impossibly long eyelashes, “they won’t serve you that small an amount.” I rolled my eyes and stood up to go order him another shot. You owe me another shot… men. I was surprised when he grabbed my wrist to stop me, before pulling me into his lap, rather gracefully given the fit of my dress, and kissing me deeply. Monty pulled away first and turned to look out the window. Our friends had gotten out of the car and were clapping and high fiving each other. 

“How about that shot now?” Monty smirked.

#monty imagine #monty x reader #montgomery de la cruz x oc #montgomery de la cruz #monty de la cruz #monty x oc #Marry Me #thomas rhett #montgomery de la cruz imagine #montgomery de la cruz x reader #scott reed #Alex Standall #clay jensen #justin foley jensen #zach dempsey #charlie st. george #Bryce Walker #original character #scheduled

[today-we-will-survive]

Spectrum

Moodboard made by me.

Taehyung x Reader

Genre: University!AU, Garage Band!AU, Soulmate!AU, Romance, Angst, Fluff

Warnings: bar fight (short mention of blood)

Word Count: 31K

A/N: This, like the first one in the series, is for my honey bunches, @dimpled-gukkie

I’m sorry you’re having a bad day, you think as you gently stroke the currently blue colored tattoo encircling your left ring finger. It’s been changing colors all day, staying within the blue and purple hued spectrum signifying that your soulmate—whoever they are, wherever they are—has been going between feeling bad and worse. You noticed it that morning when you woke up. That’s always the second thing you do when you open your eyes. Turn off your alarm, check your ring. Usually it’s somewhere in the red to green range meaning they’re in a good mood—or at least neutral, but not this morning. It seems to have started off a melancholy teal and gotten more purple from there, now tinted a bold indigo.

What’s going on? You wonder and pull your bottom lip into your mouth, your manicured brows furrowing a bit with concern.

The sound of your name being called has you jerking your head up off your desk, eyes shooting to the front of the room as everyone else’s focus on you.

“You still with me?” your professor asks and you feel your cheeks heat up as you slink lower in your chair, nodding your head just slightly enough to get him to continue his lecture.

Thankfully he does and you breathe a sigh of relief when you feel the dozens of other eyes fall away again. Sit up, pay attention, you think and straighten your spine so you’re sitting tall. You try to pay attention, try to listen to the lecture, but you can’t help the little inkling gnawing at the back of your brain and you glance down again at your tattoo. It’s turned a deep violet and you feel your heart sink. What’s going on?

Your apartment on the top floor of your building is outfitted with the plush trappings of the most luxurious kind. Only the best for the Princess of the Upper East Side. At least that’s what you overheard the movers say as they carried each carefully wrapped piece of furniture and decor up the weekend before you were to start your second year of college. Your mother was aghast when she heard that freshmen were required to live in the dorms on school grounds—even though you were given one of the more well-kept rooms in the best building. You’d tried to tell her it was fine and even went so far as to admit that you were excited to have a normal college experience, but of course, she wanted none of that, whisking you out to go apartment shopping the minute the last semester ended and then having it renovated and curated to her liking for the extent of the summer.

Now you’re well into fall quarter, doing homework at a marble and oak desk in this grand study in a ridiculously huge, extravagant apartment and you’ve never felt lonelier in your life. Your mother insisted you get the whole place to yourself because, “valuable things tend to disappear and end up in dirty pawn shops when you invite others to share your home with you.” You doubt she knows this from experience but rather from the years of having it drilled into her own head that if someone doesn’t have as much money as you, they will try to take yours. That’s why she insists that you only interact with others of your stature—or rather those closest to your stature since no one is actually at your level, right mom?

So when you hear your phone vibrate and see it skitter across the marble desk top, you know without looking that it’s one of three people. Kim Seokjin, a boy that seems to like the fact that his social standing puts him miles above the rest of the students he goes to school with a little too much, Min Yoongi, the only other person that seems to understand how absolutely ridiculous it is that as young people above the age of independence, your parents still somehow have complete control over every aspect of your lives, and Park Jennie, A-list socialite who throws the best parties and can get away with anything with a flash of that perfectly sweet smile, aka your best friend. And now when you pick up your phone, you’re met with that very smile. With a curl of your own lips, you hit “accept” and bring the phone to your ear.

“Hey J—”

You can’t pull it away from your poor ear fast enough to save it from the high pitched scream that comes hurtling at you through the speaker. For a split second you think something is horribly, horribly wrong with your friend, until the scream devolves into a fit of giggles.

“Doll!” she screeches, “You’ll never guess where I am!”

“Hopefully somewhere devoid of people since you probably just made anyone within a mile of you deaf.”

“I’m at Choi Marie’s trying on my birthday dress and it’s ah-mazing!” she continues completely ignoring your comment. “It seriously is so perfect—well, almost perfect. If I can convince Daddy to let me make the neckline a little lower and the bottom hem a little higher, then it’ll be perfect.”

You can’t help but shake your head. “Of course it will, J,” you chuckle. “Every eye will be on you.”

“It better be,” she says. “I’m not shelling out this much dough just to have someone upstage me at my own party.”

“No one would dare,” you say, shutting your laptop and leaning back in your chair. Your spine makes a satisfying crack.

“Oh! That reminds me,” Jennie says. “Your dress is here too.”

Now you quickly sit forward again. “My what? J, you didn’t. I was going to wear the dress I got in Milan last spring.”

“Of course I didn’t. Daddy did, ” she says then lets out a giggle. “Besides, my best friend isn’t going to be wearing some closet vagabond garb from last season. You should come now. It’s here for you to try on.”

She doesn’t have to tell you twice. With an excited squeal, you end the call and jump up from your desk, leaving your text books and laptop strewn all over its top. You know they’ll be in a neat pile when you return but you don’t want to think about that now as you grab your purse and keys and head out of your apartment.

“J, this is too much,” you say half an hour later when you’re looking at yourself in the full-length mirror at Choi Marie’s. A sequined, silvery blue dress hugs your every curve, ending midway down your calves. Jennie stands beside you playing with her own dress that would be the same as yours if not for the gold sequins, rhinestones and jewels and the fact that it’s, you know, much more…her. She hikes the hem of hers up to mid-thigh, showing off more of her pale legs and tilts her head in thought.

“Should I go shorter?” she asks still studying herself in the mirror.

You laugh. “You won’t have any dress left if you go shorter,” you say teasingly and Jennie sneers at your reflection. “Seriously, though, J. This is too much.” Your palms run down your stomach over the ridges of the blue/gray rhinestones. Then you catch sight of the dark band around your finger and your stomach sinks. You’d been so caught up in studying for your exams and then ogling this dress that you hadn’t noticed the band darken further from the violet it had been last time you checked.

“It’s really no big deal—” Jennie says, not noticing that you’re staring at your tattoo. “But if you really want to pay me back, there’s this Gucci choker I’ve been eying for a while and…” At last she catches on, watching you bring your hand up to your face and touch your knuckles to your lips, deep in thought.

“Moody boy at it again?” she asks though her eyes are sympathetic.

“It seems to be happening more often now,” you reply. “I wish I knew who he was or had a way to communicate with him, ya know? Just so I could try to make him feel better.”

“You have such a heart of gold, babe,” Jennie says putting her hands on your arms and giving you a squeeze. “Your boy is probably one of those hot brooding types.” Then she wiggles her own red-ringed finger. “Mine can’t seem to calm down.”

You smile in amusement. The only time your best friend’s soulmate tattoo isn’t a bright scarlet red—the happiest color—is when it’s tinged closer to green—signifying calmness—and that’s usually only in the morning and really late at night when any normal person would be sleeping.

Jennie lets out a growl as she tugs her dress up higher. “You’re gonna get James Dean and I’ll get Bozo the Clown on crack,” she mutters.

The laugh escapes before you can catch it and you slap a hand over your mouth to try to hide it but it’s no use. Jennie’s already dissolved into fits of laughter as well, clinging on to you to keep from toppling over in her four inch stilettos. The two of you look ridiculous in your sparkling dresses and heels, hair in disarray and faces red and shining with laughter. You’ve already forgotten about the dark ring encircling your finger or the meaning behind it.

The hard case of Kim Taehyung’s cell phone bites into the plaster of his dorm room wall before clattering to the carpeted floor below. He rakes his hands through his dark hair and lets out a heavy sigh, falling backward on his bed and bouncing on the mattress. Another rejection.

It seems that’s all he gets nowadays. No after no after no. For once, he’d like a yes. For once he wishes he had some good news for his bandmates. That they actually get to play the venue they’ve been trying to get into for months instead of the tiny clubs. Instead it’s no.

No, no and no.

Taehyung drags his hands down his face, the thick, gun-metal colored band encircling his left ring finger catching on his lip. He pulls his hands back and uses his thumb to lift the ring. An orange stripe stains the skin beneath and a pang of jealousy stabs at his chest.

At least one of us is having a good time, he thinks, then slips the ring back down over the tattoo. Out of sight, out of mind.

Friday night dinner with your parents has been a thing now since you went off to college two years ago. Your mother says it’s because they don’t want to lose touch with you, but really it means that, as long as you’re obligated to see them weekly, your dad is able to keep you on the path he’s had you on since you were little. You put up with it. In fact, you actually used to kind of like the idea of running the family business someday. You’ve dabbled in a few other things but somehow you always found yourself drawn back to your roots. And by this point you don’t know if it’s honestly by your own desire or by the mental tether your parents have you hooked on. Sure, you love business and the politics that go along with it, but would you if you hadn’t had the importance of it engrained in you?

More recently though, you’ve picked up art again. Particularly sketching and more particularly, designing gowns. You have a sketchbook half-filled with sketches of dresses, tucked into the back of the bottom drawer of your jewelry cabinet at the apartment—away from prying eyes which you know are there. It’s a dream you would never admit to out loud. Especially to your parents. They wouldn’t allow you to pursue it anyway.

“So how are classes going, Honey?”

You look up from your plate, having spent the beginning of dinner pushing a small mushroom around with your chopsticks. Now your eyes settle on your mother’s own from across the table. Quickly, you drop your utensils and let your hands fall into your lap under the table.

“Uh, my classes? They’re going alright,” you say and try to give a polite smile. You woke up this Friday morning and looked at your ring even before turning off your alarm to find it a slightly saddened turquoise. It still isn’t red or orange but it’s better than blue or purple…or black. It’s basically stayed that color all day. “I had an exam on Monday and we just got our results back.”

“And?” your mom asks lifting an eyebrow.

You shrug and look back down at your plate, already regretting mentioning it. “I did…okay.”

The sound of a glass hitting the clothed table top a little too hard has you looking up, this time at your father. “Just okay?” he asks.

Another shrug. “Yeah, I got a ninety six, but the test was harder than I thought it would be. I should have studied more.”

“A ninety six?” you mom gasps and brings a manicured hand up to the hollow of her throat. “There must be a mistake. My daughter does not get such mediocre grades.”

“No need to worry, Dear,” your father says. “I have a luncheon with the dean on Monday. I will talk to him then.”

“You don’t need to do that, Daddy,” you say quickly. “It was my own fault. I just need to study harder. That’s all.”

“No, no,” he says. “No daughter of mine is going to have such average grades attached to her name. To my name. Can you imagine what that would say about you? About our family? I’ve worked hard to get you the reputation you have and no company run by a woman with such average grades would be taken seriously. No, I will fix this. Don’t you worry.”

You breathe a sigh, trying to keep your tongue secured between your teeth until you no longer feel the urge to argue. Of course, your father still dreams of you one day taking his place as head of his company. He’s talked about it since you were eight when he finally accepted the fact that he wouldn’t be getting a son to pass the business down to. And of course, not once did he ask you if it was what you actually wanted to do.

At last you let your lips lift into a smile. “Of course, Daddy,” you say. “I will try harder from now on. I wouldn’t want to make you look bad.”

This seems like a satisfying enough answer and you see the tension physically lift from your mother’s shoulders as she smiles and picks her utensils back up to continue eating. She’s always been overdramatic, but then again, maybe the idea of her daughter not following the plans laid out for her exactly is as much of a disturbing thought as she’s ever experienced. That’s what happens when a person lives their life with everything served to them on a silver platter. And though you’ve been raised the same way, you’d like to think you have at least a slightly better grasp on reality.

“Well, I think that went well,” you say trying to match your father’s quick strides as the two of you exit the office building and make your way across the steady stream of foot traffic toward the sleek, black car waiting for you on the curb.

“Could have gone better,” he replies without looking at you then gives the driver a quick nod when he opens the door for him. You make your way around to the other side of the car after the driver and smile at him gratefully before climbing in and settling into the seat beside your father. He’s already preoccupied, typing a long email on his iPhone, his thumbs flying across the screen, so you just stare out your own window at the buildings and people as they go by at a snail’s pace. Traffic in the city is always terrible, no matter what time of day it is, but you don’t mind being caught up in it. It gives you time to think.

Lately, your father has been bringing you with him to meetings so you can observe and see the way he conducts business deals. You’ll admit, he knows what he’s doing. There were several moments where you thought maybe he was going to lose the deal but he’s very persuasive. Then again you already know that.

He’s always been very good at talking anyone into seeing things his way. It’s what’s kept him so successful. So steadfast, so dependable. You’ve always looked up to your father. Sure, he can be manipulative, but you have to admit, the man is dedicated. He’s worked hard all his life, all your life, to take care of his family, and somehow, he sees himself in you.

You should be honored.

Should be.

Yet you can’t help but feel trapped on this path. As if the walls lining it are too high and topped with barbed-wire. This is the path, not that you chose, but that has been chosen for you.

The car turns, now heading into the fashion district and you sit up a bit taller when windows displaying extravagant gowns and bags and the like begin to pass by. When you catch your reflection in the car window, you’re not surprised that your eyes are sparkling with delight. You wander down this street often, always hurrying home after a day of shopping with Jennie with newfound inspiration. A lot of these shopping trips end with you dropping your bags inside the front door of your apartment and running to grab your sketch pad from its hiding place and spending the rest of the evening designing. Even now, you’re itching to get home so you can sketch.

You wanted to get to the party early but of course your father wanted you to accompany him on a last minute deal at one of the nicer restaurants in town so now, not only are you late, but you’re frazzled and kind of full from the amount of bread you nervously stuffed into your face while you watched the business deal tensely go down. You used to love going to things like this with your dad, but now you dread them more than anything else. There’s this pressure that seems to start building in your chest the moment you walk into the room and see the client and it just keeps growing, crushing your ribs and making the whole place seem smaller than it is. Every little thing is a distraction as you try to focus on what’s going on because this is going to be you someday—as your father always points out—and now that you’re in college, the day he hands over the reigns feels like it’s looming on the horizon and getting closer every second.

You were already late by the time you made it back to your apartment so you didn’t even really have time to do more than grab your blue, sparkly dress and heels from Jennie and shove them into a big purse before rushing back out again to catch the car you’d called on the way there. Now you tumble around in the back of it, hastily trying to change in the confined space as the driver—who you’ve caught several times glancing back at you in the rearview mirror but you honestly don’t care at this point—weaves his way through city traffic and out toward the party venue.

If you’re the “Princess of the Upper East Side” then Jennie is princess of the whole city. The Parks own so much of it, there aren’t many streets left without a single property owned by them. And you can always tell which ones are theirs. Always the sleek, modern, black tinted glass ones that jut up the highest. Even now, a line of them block the sunset painted sky, making it much dimmer inside the car.

The driver makes a particularly sharp turn, throwing you across the seat with a squeal, your arm sticking up out of the neck hole of your sweater while you frantically paw at your earring that has caught in a loose string. At last you get it freed and yank the sweater completely off. Your hair goes everywhere, sticking to your skin that has become sweaty from your struggle and you quickly push it back from your face before grabbing Jennie’s dress out of your bag. It takes some maneuvering but somehow you manage to successfully shimmy the dress up your body and then pull your pencil skirt down and off. The driver has seen enough of you, he doesn’t need another peek.

You tug your second heel on just as the car pulls up to the front of the venue. You can already hear music pulsing from the mansion and feel the vibrations on the door when you open it and climb out into the driveway.

“Have a good evening, miss,” the driver says through the open passenger side window.

The memory of catching his glances in the rearview mirror a couple times gives you the urge to punch him but instead, you pass him a credit card and wait impatiently as he swipes it through his little reader on the dash. He hands you back the card and a small tablet for you to tip and sign on with a wink and you roll your eyes before handing it back to him and turning on your toe.

“What, no tip?” he calls teasingly.

“You got your tip already, buddy,” you call back and pull the straps of your purse up higher on your shoulder as you teeter up the steps toward the glowing neon entrance to the venue. That’s the last time you use a different car service than your usual one. Just before you push the door open, you card your fingers quickly through your mussed hair, take a deep breath to try and calm your still on edge nerves and then step inside.

The party planner has always gone all out for Jennie’s birthday parties, every year being pushed and pressured to make it bigger and better than the last. You’ve witnessed the frazzled brainstorming sessions. Watched the poor woman hurry from room to room with the Parks hot on her heels as she gave a play-by-play of the decor and entertainment. What would be where at what time. Color schemes, themes, food and drink options, everything. Even going so far as to import furniture and curtains and other lavish ornamentation from other countries just for the night. And the Parks just nod, not saying much, eyes roaming almost unfazed to wherever the planner points. You’d feel sorry for her if she wasn’t being paid so handsomely.

The Parks may be hard to please but they always make it worth while. You overheard the planner talking on the phone one day while you were there studying with Jennie, telling whoever was on the other end how after this whole fiasco was over, she was planning on taking the payment she’d receive from it and travel for a year. You wouldn’t be surprised if Jennie’s party was the only one she planned every year. Who needs to work the rest of the time when you can live off your earnings from the one high society event?

And high society it is.

The double doors open into a black and white tiled foyer, a crowd forming in front of the entrance to the actual party where two men dressed in brocaded suit vests and pants with beaded masks hiding the top halves of their faces stand, holding their white gloved hands out to take the invitations that will allow the partygoers entrance. The doors and staircase are hidden by curtains of shiny satin fabric and big can lights with pink filters sit in two of the corners, tinting the whole place magenta. Music pulses loudly from the other side of the beaded curtain that covers the doorway into the main party room, floating over the heads of the crowd and muffling any conversations being had.

You quickly stash your purse behind a curtain before pushing your way to the front of the crowd, many yelling complaints until they see who it is that is trying to squeeze past them. Then, of course, the annoyance turns to friendly greetings, overly friendly really since they all know that one ill word from you to Jennie would get them kicked out instantly.

By the time you make it to the front, you’re panting in the heat, a light coating of sweat causing your skin to shimmer. But still, you compose yourself, flashing a bright smile to the man guarding the entrance. He doesn’t even ask your name, both men giving you a bow of recognition—surely Jennie had shown them your picture so there’d be no trouble getting you in—and parting the curtain with wide swinging gestures, the real party becoming revealed to you. You give one more charming smile to each man before stepping through the curtain, entering onto a platform that looks down on the party.

The place is huge, magnificent and packed with people. Bolts of sheer fabric drape down from the center of the ceiling and attach to the walls creating a circus tent effect. A giant, sparkling chandelier hangs from the apex, the crystals glittering as they reflect the pink lights glowing through the material. To your surprise—though nothing should surprise you at this point—a woman suspends high above the crowd, limbs tangled into a white length of silk , rhinestones on her bodysuit catching the light as her body twists expertly. As you watch, two trapeze artists cut in front of her, swinging from hanging bars. One lets go of hers, curling into a speedy somersault before grasping onto the hands of the other as he hangs by his knees. Leave it to Jennie to turn her 21st birthday party into a literal circus.

On either side of the balcony you stand on, marble staircases descend to the party floor, two men flanking the banisters balancing silver trays holding flutes of pink sparkling champagne.

Your eyes scan the room below, searching for the birthday girl herself. Then you spot her, unsurprisingly in the center of the dance floor, her face bright, euphoric, arms up as she dances surrounded by the other elitist trust funders that make up her exclusive, though large, list of friends. Luckily for you, you’re at the top of this list.

Somehow she knows to shift her attention your way just then, locking eyes with you like a deer in the headlights for a split second before the recognition sets in. Then her face breaks out into a beaming smile and you see rather than hear her mouth form your name before she’s pushing through the crowd toward you

You meet her at the bottom of the stairs, her clammy hands grabbing onto yours so tightly they’ll surely bruise but you don’t care because now instead of observing the party, you’ve become a part of it, the music surrounding you rather than floating below you, the chandelier looming above you, looking even more magnificent than it did from where you stood on the balcony. The people, the music, the sweet, flowery smell—surely laced with something and pumped in to mask that of the sweaty bodies and, let’s face it, probably weed—creating an intoxicating atmosphere that can only ever be found at one of Park Jennie’s birthday parties.

“You’re late!” Jennie yells over the music, her scolding words contrasting the delirious tone of her shrill voice.

Even with the perfumed air, you can smell the alcohol on her breath. She’s always been a pre-gamer, knowing that she’s too uptight in her natural state and needs alcohol—and usually a little something extra, compliments of one Min Yoongi—to loosen up. Well, she’s definitely loosened up.

“I know, I’m sorry,” you yell back. “I had to sit in on a deal with my dad and it ran over!”

“Well, you’re here now and you look amazing!” she exclaims, though she should talk with the way her altered gold dress hugs her body so perfectly. “Come dance with me!” And then she’s tugging you after her, barely giving you time to snatch one of the champagne flutes off the tray before being swallowed up by the crowd.

You down the drink in three gulps and push it into another server’s hand just as Jennie drags you onto the dance floor. The tiles are lit from underneath, the lights pulsing with the beat of the music adding to the chaos that already surrounds you.

But you love the chaos.

With a life as structured and stifling as yours, these are the moments that keep you going. Jennie throws her arms around your neck, pulling you to her with a loud, drunken laugh and you feel your own laughter bubbling out of you, riding on the dizzying feel of the alcohol already coursing through your veins.

The two of you dance together for several songs until you’re a sweating, giggling mess, falling all over each other as you make your way toward the bar set up in the corner. Three bartenders decked out in the same brocade vests and masks as the servers scurry behind the counter, mixing and handing out drinks just barely slower than the people are ordering them. With it being an open bar, many people have taken up root at the counter, planning on spending the entire night getting absolutely wasted and trying to forget about the pressure they’re each under to continue to be the golden children their parents paint them to be. Trying to drown out the stress of being dragged down a path that was set for them before they were born. Taking up a business they have no interest in, marrying into families they despise, becoming people they don’t want to be. The only oases in this stifling dessert are the black cards with no charge limit that reside in most of their wallets and nights like this one.

“What’ll it be, Birthday Girl?” one of the bartenders yells to Jennie over the music.

She leans onto the bar coyly. “A black cherry martini please,” she says with a flirtatious bat of her eyelashes. “And one for my beautiful bestie here too.”

The bartender’s eyes flash over to you and you feel your cheeks heat up as you dip your head demurely. Jennie has always been so unabashedly over the top when it comes to interacting with the opposite sex while you’ve always been a bit more shy. It’s a perfect balance really. She brings out your wild side and you try to reign hers in. “Try” being the operative word.

It takes less than a minute to get your deep red drinks, Jennie grabbing both and handing you yours. With a smile, you tap the lip of your glass against hers.

“To you,” you say over the music.

“You know it!” she yells back before bringing her drink to her lips.

As Jennie takes a sip of her martini, her eyes travel past the rim of her glass and over your shoulder, settling on someone behind you. Immediately you sense an all too familiar, all too cocky presence.

“I’ve got to hand it to you, Jennie,” a voice says. “You really know how to throw an extravagant party.” Now you spin around, your vision assaulted by none other than the most notorious playboy of the Upper East Side.

Kim Seokjin is one of those classically handsome men. The kind with the incredibly broad shoulders, chiseled jaw, sharp, intelligent eyes, and full, perfect lips. Unfortunately, he is very aware of the fact and uses it unabashedly to his advantage at all times. So constantly, in fact, it’s exhausting just to be around him for more than a few minutes. There’s only so much of Kim Seokjin’s flirtation you can take before you feel your self-respect begin to dwindle.

Even now you almost cringe as he dips his head at you, his eyes glinting as if to try and lure you in. No way, no how, never have, never will.

A blonde head bobs behind him and you manage to rip your eyes away from his stifling gaze to see his best friend, Min Yoongi perched on a bar stool, conversing lowly and suspiciously with a couple of girls. You watch with an eyebrow quirked as he opens his palm to reveal two small white pills, which the girls each take one of, and press onto their tongues. Ah yes, the boy may have been born into all the money he’ll ever need, but he’s a business man to a fault. A sketchy business man, but a business man nonetheless.

“Was that an actual compliment I just heard out of your mouth, Kim Seokjin?” Jennie asks from behind you and you turn your attention back to the boy. “Not even one snarky remark about how pink is such a classless color?”

“As long as there’s free booze, I wouldn’t care if you covered the walls in green and purple polka dots and made us all do the electric slide,” he says. “Besides, I kind of like pink. It’s…jovial.”

“Glad to hear you hold my taste to such a high esteem.”

Seokjin quirks a corner of his mouth, amused by this back and forth, it seems. “It is exactly what I would expect a Park Jennie party to be,” he says. “Magnificent. Extravagant. Fitting for only a queen such as yourself,” His eyes sparkle and you find yourself stepping back trying to make some room for his suffocating ego.

“The party favors are mini bottles of champagne,” Jennie says with a sharp jut of her chin. “Diamond encrusted, imported from one of the original vineyards in France.”

“Of course they are,” he purrs. Then raises his glass to his lips and throws his head back, draining the drink in one gulp. He drops the tumbler onto the bar, his one arm closing in on your best friend’s side and he sidles closer to her.

“Come dance with me,” he utters and you feel your stomach churn.

How is any actual human like this? How can anyone be fooled by this boy’s over the top charms? You’ve seen this song and dance between the two of them a million times. The seemingly ongoing feud between the two, their egos and self-absorption always clashing, yet you know the truth. You wish you didn’t, but—much to your chagrin—you are Jennie’s soundboard. Oh yes, you’ve heard all the details. The two make for an interesting pair, that’s for sure.

The fact that they aren’t soulmates doesn’t really matter to them. In fact, most people don’t even bother trying to find their soulmates until after college is over. Especially not those that already have their lives mapped out for them such as you and the rest of the kids on the Upper East Side. Having a pre-picked soulmate just means another thing you have no control over. And you along with the rest want to hold onto that tiny bit of freedom for just a little longer. Hence the almost vomit inducing scene unfolding in front of you.

Now you watch with a mixture of amusement and disgust as your best friend presses her unfinished drink into your hand before allowing herself to be led away, back onto the dance floor. If it were anyone else, you’d have stopped it before it could happen but you know your best friend better than anyone. Better than Kim Seokjin does, that’s for sure. Park Jennie doesn’t do anything she doesn’t want to do. She can hold her own.

You set her forgotten drink onto the bar top before leaning back against it and taking a sip of your own as you watch the party happen around you. Everywhere you look you see people enjoying themselves, whether that be dancing, drinking, pressed up against someone else or a mixture of all three. Parties are a staple of any trust fund kid’s social life. In fact, if you aren’t going to at least one a month, can you even call yourself an elite? But there’s something different about a Park Jennie party. As city royalty, it is well-known that she is on the shortest leash. Her family often graces the tabloids, articles about their newest properties, most recent lavish trips, societal events and parties being eaten up by the more common folk that wish they were them. Sure, from the outside, Jennie seems like a wild card. Someone who can do what she wants, get what she wants. But you know the truth. Underneath the flirty, confident, loud exterior, is a girl who just wants to hold onto her youth for as long as she can before her parents force her to grow up.

All this.

These bright colors and flashing lights and loud music, are all a facade. All just a distraction from responsibilities waiting for her on the ever impending horizon.

For weeks before the party, Jennie excitedly bragged about the fact that her dad had managed to get Bangtan to perform at it. The boy group is one of the biggest musical acts in the world right now which just goes to show how much power the Park family possesses.

Though now as you stand beside her, confusingly enough off to the side of the crowd that has accumulated in front of the curtained stage instead of at the forefront, you notice she doesn’t seem as thrilled as she should be. In fact, she seems anxious.

“Hey, what’s wrong, J?” you ask nudging her gently with your elbow. “Aren’t you excited to see Bangtan live?”

“I would be if we actually were seeing them live,” she replies shifting on her heels.

If you were confused before, you’re completely puzzled now. “What do you—?” The last bit of your question is drowned out when the crowd goes wild and you turn back toward the stage to see the curtain lifting. Of course, as soon as the band onstage is revealed to not be the worldwide sensation that is the seven member group, Bangtan, but a five piece band of musicians that look like they belong in someone’s garage instead of this luxe venue, the screaming dies down to almost silence.

“Helloooooooo Upper East Side!” the frontman yells into the mic before adjusting the backwards snapback on his head. You don’t know what’s worse, his obnoxiously loud voice or the glaring black tattoo of a lion’s head plastered across the side of his neck and throat. “I’m your hope, you’re my hope, I’m J-Hoooooooope!”

“Oh no,” Jennie groans as she presses her hands to her face in embarrassment.

“That’s Tae on drums, RM on bass, Kook and Jimin on guitar and together we are WAR OF HORMONE!”

With that last bit of an introduction, the drummer—Tae, apparently—raises his sticks in the air, inked arms catching the light, and strikes them together three times before bringing them down hard on the snare at the same time he hits the bass. The stage comes to life, the lights changing with every heavy beat and J-Hope leans into the mic to start the song off. To your surprise, it’s catchy, even with their gravely sing-song rapping and heavy sound and before long, the crowd of partiers is really starting to get into it. You watch in disbelief as these people—most of whom you’ve known since you were all in pre-prep school—begin jumping up and down, raising their arms above their heads and screaming back whenever one of the boys on stage hypes them up. It seems all of the members have singing parts, including the drummer, who cranes his neck to the left to reach the mic on a stand, expertly keeping the beat while singing the entire chorus with a deep, growly voice that causes goosebumps to raise on your skin even in the feverish room.

It isn’t until the song is over and the room bursts into applause that you finally snap out of your stupor and look to your best friend.

“Okay there has to be a story here,” you yell as the band starts in on a second song. “You can’t tell me they were your first choice.”

“Of course they weren’t my first choice,” Jennie yells back to you, though her eyes stay glued to the boys on stage. “They weren’t my choice at all.”

“Then who’s were they?” you ask now thoroughly confused.

Jennie crosses her arms over her chest and scrunches her nose in irritation. “Yeonjun’s,” she mutters.

Your head turns immediately to the corner closest to the bar where Jennie’s obnoxious little brother sits with his four equally obnoxious friends, all very underage and all clearly intoxicated.

Your mouth pulls up in disgust. “Since when does your little brother have any say in what music plays at your birthday party?”

“Since he threatened to tell Daddy that I was the one to put that scratch in the Mercedes. Apparently he’s hoping to get a chance to talk to them about joining”

“Yeonjun wants to join some greasy garage band? Ew.”

“Right?” Jennie asks with a scoff before turning back again to face the band. As she watches, her annoyed expression smooths out and a corner of her mouth curls. “Though, I don’t completely hate it.”

“Are you serious right now?” you shriek and look ahead at the stage again.

It seems she didn’t hear you and now she grabs your arm and bites her lip eagerly.

“Come on, let’s get closer to the stage,” she says and before you can argue, she drags you into the crowd.

Of course, they clear a path for the birthday girl and within seconds, you’re right at the front, nothing but these loud energetic boys before you. J-Hope jumps around on the stage, almost shoving the mic in his mouth, his leather pants catching the light, his white tank top sticking to his skin. His eyes fall to the pair of you as you enter his line of sight, dark irises sparkling when they settle on the person to your right. Oh no. You look over at Jennie to find her staring back, gaze locked intensely on the singer.

The song continues with the two of them never really looking away from each other, J-Hope staying in your vicinity of the stage, doing a little more to get some sort of rise out of your best friend, whether it’s a tilt of his head, a bit extra dancing or a wink. The two are so brazenly flirting with each other you suddenly feel like you’re intruding on a very private moment.

Focus on something else, you think and you let your eyes roam over the rest of the boys on the stage. They all look so out of place here covered in tattoos and piercings and tight ripped clothes, you feel like you’re at a completely different party than you were just twenty minutes ago. The bassist has a beanie pulled down over his hair, his teeth hooking on his lip ring as he bobs his head to the beat. The two guitarists face each other, the shorter with blue hair and much to your horror, a septum piercing, and the other taller—at least he has normal colored hair—with big black plugs in his lobes and tattoos trailing down the arm facing you. At last your gaze lands on the drummer and you suck in a sharp breath when you see that his own eyes are set on you.

His sweat-darkened hair sticks out in wet spikes, his inked up skin—dare you say—glistening as he drums. When he sees you staring, he cocks his head back, mouth spreading into a knowing smile before poking his tongue out. You quickly look away again, trying to ignore the way his stare makes your stomach flip. Suddenly you feel very thirsty.

“I’ll be right back,” you say quickly to Jennie, though she probably doesn’t hear you since she’s too busy drooling over the frontman of War of Hormone.

You push back through the crowd, this time wanting the least resistance but not getting it since you’re not being towed behind the birthday girl. But at last you break out of the back, your ears ringing from the screams and cheers that had surrounded you and now you find yourself right up against the bar—coincidentally right where you want to be. You rattle off the first drink that you can think of that you know will get that image of drummer boy’s smirk out of your head.

As you wait for your drink, you rest your elbows on the bar top and let your head sink into your hands, absolutely refusing to turn around. Even hidden by the crowd now, you can feel his stare burning a hole into the back of your skull. Out of the corner of your eye, you sense movement.

“So did Jennie lose a bet or is this a sad attempt at charity work?” Seokjin asks.

“Blackmail, actually,” you mutter then straighten up when the bartender sets your drink down in front of you.

“I don’t know what’s more painful,” Seokjin says leaning his back against the bar so he can spectate. “Hearing this sad excuse for music or watching my peers reduce themselves down to the neanderthals that would be so easily entertained by such garbage.”

You wish you could agree. You wish you could say that you don’t feel the strange, intriguing pull to join Jennie back up in front of the stage—despite the enticing drummer boy and that stupid smirk of his.

“Jennie seems to be enjoying it,” you say before bringing your drink up to your lips. You wince at the bitterness of the straight alcohol, remembering just why you don’t normally like drinks like this. Tae’s voice floats above the crowd and smashes into you like a shot canon ball and you immediately take another swig. Why is he affecting you so much?

It takes finishing your drink to realize Seokjin hasn’t said a word after your last remark and now you glance over at him, seeing his jaw become more visible as he grinds his teeth together. His eyes are focused on the stage, in particular, the frontman and his hand reaching down for Jennie’s.

Just then, the song ends and J-hope laughs breathlessly into the mic. “We’re gonna take a quick break,” he says, his statement punctuated by a short drum solo and then the room is filled with the screams of the crowd.

You shake your head, still in shock that this band is getting such a rise out of your peers. Maybe the air really is laced with something. With that thought in mind, you set your now empty glass back on the bar.

“I’m going to try to find Jennie again,” you say to Seokjin though from his lack of a response, you aren’t sure if he heard you. Whatever. Once again, you find yourself weaving through the crowd, back toward the stage, this time a rock growing bigger in your stomach with every step because all you can think about is the fact that that drummer is waiting for you.

Somehow, as luck would have it, the stage is empty by the time you get up there. At least mostly empty. The important thing is that the drummer is gone. You feel the rock in your gut begin to subside. That is, until your searching eyes land on Jennie and J-Hope at the corner of the stage, their faces unnaturally close for the two having just met, and what’s worse, he’s grasping her delicate hands in his. The fact that he’s dripping with sweat doesn’t seem to phase your best friend. In fact, she seems enamored. Odd.

Your gaze travels south from their faces to their clasped hands. It’s then that it all suddenly makes sense. In the pink tinged light, it’s hard to make out the colors of the soulmate marks encircling the ring fingers on their left hands, but there’s no mistaking the second band that has appeared above each one.

No way, you think. Jennie and this guy? Soulmates?

It’s the first day of the new semester and here you are, twenty minutes late and literally running across campus, your bag bouncing against your hip, your braid whipping out behind you. Why did you decide to wear your heeled boots today? Oh right, because they’re cute.

Now the sound of your heels hitting the tiled floor of the hallway echoes through the place. Luckily no one else is around because you are definitely a sight to see.

At last, you reach your class, stopping outside to smooth your hair back down and readjust your sweater before taking a deep breath and pushing the door open as quietly as you can. When you peek in, you realize the room is a lot smaller than you thought it would be. Instead of the theater style ones you’re used to, this one is much smaller. Instead of rows of seats, there are several long, skinny tables set up in a U shape, students filling the chairs along the outer perimeter of it. The professor stands at the center of the room and, unfortunately for you, is right in the middle of turning to face the students sitting in front of the door when you slip in.

“Ah, nice of you to finally join us,” she says with an unsympathetic smile.

“Sorry,” you utter and brush a stray strand of hair back out of your face. “I guess I overslept.”

“Well, you’re here now. Might as well join in on the fun.” Then the professor gestures to the only empty seat available, luckily right in front of you so you don’t have to make an even bigger fool of yourself having to navigate around the chairs and bags on the floor to the other side.

Without another word, you rush over and slink down into your chair, immediately bringing your hands up, cupping your face to shield the bright red that has blossomed in your cheeks.

You stay just like that, keeping your eyes glued to the professor as she goes on about a partner project that’s supposed to be due in two weeks. The person beside you shifts in their seat—you don’t even know what they or anyone else in the class looks like since you’re still too mortified to let your eyes move from the center of the room.

“You’ll do this project with the person sharing your table. After all, you’re all adults here and should be able to work well enough with any of your other classmates. On that note, please spend the rest of the time getting to know each other and discussing your project.”

You’re really hoping your partner knows what the two of you are supposed to be doing since you apparently missed that part. Now, you finally sit up, take a deep breath and turn to face them with the intention of asking what you’re supposed to be doing. But when your eyes lock on a pair very familiar to you, you feel the air freeze in your lungs. The last time you saw these eyes, they were glittering mischievously, adorning a face with an extremely flirtatious smirk on it that set your body on fire.

He leans his elbow on the table, his leather jacket—covered in brightly colored, painted designs and metal studs—creaking, the material pulling taut. You immediately picture what’s hiding under the leather, remembering those swirls of ink that ran up and down his arms.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he says turning so he can face you head on. You can’t help but wonder how it’s even possible for his speaking voice to be deeper than that growling/singing he did at Jennie’s party.

Finally, you shake your head hard to pull yourself out of your stupor. “You’re my partner?” you ask at last.

“Looks that way, doesn’t it?”

“Is this some sort of cosmic joke?”

“Fraid not, Sweetheart.” Then he reaches a hand out. “I’m Tae, by the way.” Your eyes fall to it, noting the thick silver band covering his soulmate tattoo.

Immediately, you glance down at your own hand, glimpsing the yellow tinted band for a second before you slip it down into your lap and clench it into a fist. You don’t want to touch him. All you can think about is the copious amount of sweat he was producing while drumming up on the stage last Saturday. He probably hasn’t even showered since then. Though, he does smell rather pleasant. Nice almost.

“I know,” you mutter then turn to look straight forward again, your other hand now joining the left in a tight fist on your lap.

“Ah,” Tae draws out as he leans back in his chair and folds his arms across his chest. “I knew I recognized you. You were at that crazy rich party last weekend.”

“So?”

“So you kinda just disappeared during our second song, didn’t you? Running late for a hair appointment?”

You can feel your cheeks begin to warm at the mention of the moment the two of you shared. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say, now leaning down and trying to make yourself busy by digging through your bag for your laptop.

“I think you do, Princess,” he utters under his breath.

You straighten back up quickly. “What did you just call me?”

His smile widens at the fact that his words have gotten such a rise out of you. “You heard me.”

You grind your molars together as you glare back at him. There’s nothing you want more at the moment than to claw that stupid grin off his face but, one, you have a reputation to uphold, and two, he’s not worth the dirt you’d get under your nails from touching that surely grubby skin of his. You take a deep breath to calm your nerves. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t call me that.”

“Then what should I call you?” he asks amusedly.

“Nothing. I’d rather you not address me at all.”

“Well, that’s going to be kind of hard to do if we’re gonna be partners and all that.”

Your feel your heart drop into your stomach. Oh right. “Look,” you finally say with a heavy sigh. “Let’s just try and be civilized adults here so we can get this whole thing over with, alright?”

“Hey, you’re the one freaking out right now,” Tae says holding his hands up in mock defense. “I’m just the poor bystander.”

You sigh again. Is this going to become a regular thing or what? Just get ahold of yourself. Pretend that you are Daddy at one of his meetings. You straighten up again and push your braid back behind your shoulder before holding your hand out. “Partners?” you ask, trying so hard to keep your expression smooth even though all you can think about are the callouses on his palms.

Tae’s mouth pulls up into a grin reminiscent of the one you saw the other night at the party. “Partners,” he retorts then grasps your hand firmly in his larger one.

Immediately, you feel a searing pain slice across your ring finger and you wrench your hand back with a hiss. Tae seems to have felt the same thing because he rips his own hand back and starts clawing at his ring, trying to yank it off.

“What was that?” you gasp as you clutch your fist to your chest.

It takes only a second longer for you to get your answer when Tae pulls his ring off to reveal his violet colored soulmate tattoo. Another band has appeared just above it of the same color. Two bands now. Just like Jennie and J-Hope…oh no.

You uncurl your own fist slowly, your heart pounding in your ears as you unveil your soulmate tattoo. Two bands, though these are tinged orange.

Two. Bands.

“No way,” Tae says holding his hand up in front of his eyes, his astonished stare a complete contrast to the horror you feel. Both of you watch as the double rings on his finger start to change color, deepening to a solid black. Only then does he look at you and notice you frozen in shock.

“Princess, wait up!” Tae calls as he trails after you down the hall.

“I told you not to call me that!” You push quickly through the doors leading outside, shoving your fingers up into your hair. You just need to get out of here. Just need to think. Just need to figure out what you’re supposed to do with this.

“Then what am I supposed to call you?”

“Nothing,” you yell. “You call me nothing!”

“Well, that’s going to be a bit difficult since we’re soulmates and all,” Tae replies.

You whirl around causing him to skid to a stumbling halt to keep from crashing head long into you. “No!” you scream. “I absolutely refuse to be your soulmate. I’ll take whatever other hand I’m dealt. I’ll keep up my grades. I’ll take over my father’s company. I’ll give up whatever other dream I may have because there’s no point in arguing anyway, but this? This is NOT HAPPENING! We are NOT HAPPENING!” you scream. “Jennie’s life is already ruined thanks to your grubby bandmate and I refuse to end up like her.” Then you grab Tae’s wrist harshly and yank his hand up in front of your face. “So we’re going to ignore this,” you snarl before ripping his ring out of his other hand and jamming it down onto his finger to cover up the double bands. He yelps in pain and pulls his hand back. “We’ll do our project together,” you continue, “and when that’s done, you’re dropping the class and never speaking to me again, got it?”

Tae looks at you wide eyed for a second before at last letting out a humorless bark of a laugh. “Why do I have to be the one to drop the class?”

“Because it’ll reflect poorly on my record if I do it,” you say matter-of-factly as you brush back the hairs that have escaped your braid.

“Oh but the fact that it would also look bad on mine means nothing, right?”

Your eyes narrow. “Doesn’t it? I thought garage rats weren’t supposed to care about school. You know, stick it to the man and down with the establishment and all that.”

“You literally just met me and you think you know me so well,” Tae says quirking a dark eyebrow.

“Oh, I know your type very well,” you snarl. “You think following some dead-end dream like being a drummer in some emo band and having this ideology that you can do whatever you want without any consequences means you’re better than the rest of us that are actually working at trying to achieve something in this life. You think this is all a joke. That none of it matters cuz we’re all just going to die anyway, right?”

Tae takes a step toward you. “You don’t know me at all, Princess,” he says, his own eyes reducing to slits and causing your blood to run cold.

“And I don’t want to,” you say and mentally curse yourself for the way your voice shakes a bit.

Tae’s mouth curves into a smile. “You will. It’s fate after all,” he says then steps back again. “See you around, Princess.” Then he turns on the toe of his boot and starts to walk away.

“Screw you!” you yell after him. “And screw fate!”

Tae raises his arm in a wave. “Now you’re beginning to sound like me,” he calls back before disappearing around a bend in the path, leaving you fuming alone on the sidewalk.

“Is everything alright, Honey?”

Your fork clatters onto your plate and you jerk your head up to see both of your parents looking at you. Their eyes are bright with concern, leaning forward with anticipation as they wait for you to answer your father’s question.

What can you tell them? That you found your soulmate? That he’s some gross punk in a garage band? You’ve already had the pleasure of being there when they heard about Jennie. You can only imagine how quickly your mother would clutch at her pearls if she found out that her own daughter was going down the same path. Except you’re not going down that path. You’ll stay single for the rest of your life if you have to. You like your life. Or at least like it better than what it could be if you gave in to fate.

“Everything is great,” you say picking your fork back up and spearing a piece of chicken, “The new semester started yesterday and I’m really liking some of my classes.”

“Only some?” you father asks and your mother’s eyes dart between the two of you for a second.

You’re frozen with the piece of chicken halfway to your mouth for about five seconds as you try to come up with a good enough answer. “Well, some of them I really like and some of them I like just a little bit less.

“Just make sure you don’t focus all of your energy on your favorite classes. That’s no way to keep top marks,” he says though you can tell your answer satisfied him enough to keep the conversation going.

“Any fun plans this weekend?” you mom asks in an attempt to change the subject.

You finish chewing and dab at your mouth with your napkin. “Well…” Should you even tell them? “Tomorrow evening I’m having dinner with Jennie.”

At the mention of your best friend’s name, your mom chokes on her sip of wine and your father drops his hand heavily onto the table, causing the china atop it to shudder. No. No you definitely shouldn’t have told them.

“You’re still associating with that girl?” your father asks disgustedly.

“She’s been my best friend since we were toddlers, Daddy,” you say quietly. “Of course I’m still hanging out with her.”

“Her poor parents,” you mom interjects. “I can’t even imagine what they’re going through right now, watching her galavanting so shamelessly around with that lowlife. They must be heartbroken.” Yeah you’re sure your mom is so sympathetic. You still remember the way her eyes sparkled when she first heard the news. How she wasted no time gossiping with the other wives about how “dreadful” this whole occurrence is.

“They’re soulmates, Mom,” you say quietly.

Your father clears his throat angrily. “Don’t even get me started on how such a horrible thing like that could happen. The girl’s future is ruined,” he says. “There’s no way anyone would ever take her seriously after they see her with this boy. Now who’s going to take over the family business? Their son? Ha!”

“Jennie had so much going for her,” your mom says, her voice dripping with feigned sympathy. “Life can be so unforgiving.”

So can you, you think as you lower your head, your eyes falling to your left hand where it has stayed clenched into a fist in your lap all night. Now you uncurl your fingers, revealing a red double band. Even though you shouldn’t, you feel a sense of peace come over you just knowing that Tae is having a better night than you are.

Taehyung smashes his sticks down onto the snare before throwing an arm to the side to catch a symbol, ending the song with a resounding clash. The crowd goes nuts. The roar rising above the ringing and heavy beat of his heart in his ears as it pounds against his ribcage. His shoulders heave, his muscles ache and sweat slicks his skin, the bandana tied around his head already soaked. This is where he belongs. He’s never felt so alive.

“Thank you! We’ll be back in a hot second!” Hoseok yells above the noise

A hard rock song starts playing through the speakers and the audience begins to disperse, people fanning out in all directions of the small club.

Taehyung stands up, raising his arms above his head and arching his back, letting out a satisfied groan at the feel of his spine stretching out.

Jungkook is still holding his guitar, fiddling around with the pedals at his feet while Jimin has deflated, laying on his back, his own guitar still strapped to him, eyes closed, face shining with sweat.

“Dude, did you see the response on that last song?” Hoseok asks excitedly as he swipes the edge of his shirt against his own sweaty forehead. The fact that this boy can perform the way he does and still be a ball of energy has always baffled Taehyung. It's what makes him the perfect frontman, though, being able to keep the crowd hyped up even after several songs.

"Yeah, man, maybe we'll get a few album sales tonight," he says, slapping his sore hand against his leader's. And maybe buy a decent meal with the profit afterward.

Taehyung’s eyes scan the club, the space below him in constant movement…except for right by the door, where a boy stands completely still, eyes roving over the place, the corners of his mouth turned down in the slightest disgusted frown. Taehyung freezes.

“What’s he doing here?” he utters, very faintly recognizing the face from Park Jennie’s party. Judging by the way the boy is dressed, his shoes alone probably costing more than Taehyung’s drum set, he definitely doesn’t belong here. Not to mention Taehyung can feel from where he stands on the stage that the boy’s ego barely fits in the place. This is definitely one of your people. “I’ll be right back,” Taehyung says to no one in particular then heads off the stage.

“We’re going back on in five,” Hoseok calls after him.

Taehyung waves him off, eyes set on the boy by the entrance. As he nears him, their eyes lock and one corner of the boy’s mouth curls up into a haughty smirk. It makes Taehyung’s skin crawl and he grips his sticks tighter in one fist.

“You lost?” Taehyung asks when he finally reaches him.

“I wish,” the boy replies, his voice coming out dark and slippery like oil. “I’m here to talk to you, actually.”

Taehyung takes a surprised step back. “Me? How’d you know I’d be playing here?”

“I caught a whiff of mediocrity and followed the stench,” he says. “I’m Kim Seokjin.” Then his eyes dart down to Taehyung’s hand as if debating on whether he wants to shake it or not. At last he stuffs his own hands into the pockets of his slacks and meets the drummer’s eyes again. “And you are?”

“Not in the mood for pleasantries,” Taehyung says curtly.

"Alright then," Seokjin says. "I'll just cut to the chase. It seems our worlds colliding has been causing a rift throughout the city.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the downfall of Park Enterprises. Haven’t you heard?”

Taehyung lifts an eyebrow.

“It’s in all the papers,” Seokjin continues. “Big businesses have been ending their contracts with Park Enterprises because they’re worried the future owner of said company won’t be reliable.”

“Future owner? You’re talking about Jennie?”

“See, there’s something you commoners don’t understand about our kind,” Seokjin says stepping a bit closer. “There is a very meticulous system in place. One that keeps this city running. You can thank us for keeping the economy stable enough for lowlifes like you to fetter your life away banging your sticks on garbage can lids. And your frontman dragging Park Jennie down to your depths is the first step to making this whole empire crumble.”

“Sorry to hear your empire is so fragile,” Taehyung growls.

“It may be a fragile system, drummer boy, but don’t forget that people like you are at the bottom. So when the whole thing collapses, we may end up bruised but you’ll be the ones getting crushed.”

“Don’t get me wrong, Dude, I’m impressed by your little speech, there. Very Disney villain-esque. But why would I help someone like you?”

“It is in my best interest to know anything and everything that I can use to my advantage. And it is in your best interest to help me.”

“Why would I help you?”

“Because I had eyes and ears in the courtyard at school the other day. Eyes and ears that happened to witness an interesting interaction between you and one Princess of the Upper East Side. Didn’t seem to be going too well if you ask me.”

Taehyung shrugs. “About as well as I expected it to.”

“You care about her.”

“No I don’t,” he snaps which causes Seokjin’s smile to widen.

“All the more reason to want to keep this system in place then, right?”

Now Taehyung feels a fire begin to build in the pit of his stomach causing him to grit his teeth against the heat. “What do you want, Seokjin?” Taehyung asks, his hand gripping his drumsticks so hard it’s a surprise they don’t snap in half.

“I want you to convince your fellow Kurt Cobain wannabe that it would be better for Jennie if he cut ties with her completely.”

“How would that be better? They’re soulmates.”

“You have to look at the bigger picture here,” Seokjin says. “Which I know must be difficult since you all collectively share one braincell but try your hardest to see it from my perspective. And don’t forget who else would be hurt if Jennie were to continue to pursue the pathetic life she’s been offered.”

Your face floats to the forefront of Taehyung’s mind. His knuckles ache from how hard he’s clenching his drumsticks.

“Do you think she enjoys seeing her best friend throw her life away? Her happiness? Her security?”

Taehyung doesn’t respond.

“Do the right thing, drummer boy,” Seokjin says before stepping back. “It’s been a…pleasure.” Then he turns and saunters back out of the club, leaving Taehyung to watch after him.

You reach his dorm a little after eleven on Saturday morning, your fist making a sharp sound against the wood. He doesn't answer the first time around so you try again, letting out an annoyed huff at the fact that he’s making your knuckles ache. Your eyes fall to the thick silver band that now resides on your left ring finger. You don’t need anyone else knowing you found your soulmate, and after dinner last night, there’s no way your parents would be okay with who it is.

At last the door swings open, revealing a very tired, very messy-haired boy. Is that your heart fluttering in your chest at the way his lips jut forward in a sleepy pout? Or the way he brings up his hands to push the heels into his eyes? Your own gaze flits to the tattoo on his finger and you watch as it fades from an irritated teal to a lighter jade.

"Well aren't you bright-eyed and bushy tailed?" Tae utters, his voice even deeper than normal and raspy with sleep. The color of his ring lightens more to chartreuse and you quickly rip your focus from it as he rakes his hands down his face, at last meeting your eyes with his slitted ones.

"Uh, I thought we were getting together today to work on our project," you say shifting from one foot to the other. How dare he make you so flustered standing there looking adorable in his white long-sleeved shirt and striped pajama pants.

"Well sure but I figured you'd at least wait until the sun came up."

It's at this moment that you realize it's basically pitch dark in his dorm room. With a roll of your eyes, you push past him, walking straight over to the window and throw the thick, blackout curtain aside, flooding the room with sunlight. Tae cries out behind you and you turn around to see him once again with his palms pressed to his eyes.

"It's almost 11:30," you say. "Do you always sleep this late?"

"Later actually when annoying princesses aren't trying to blind me," he grumbles but then looks up at you again, arching his eyebrows high and blinking hard to try and get used to the glaring light.

"Look, I just want to get this over with, and that's going to take some cooperation on your part."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Tae says and stumbles over to his dresser, yanking a drawer open. "Anything for you, Princess."

You hate to admit it but you're kind of starting to like the way the nickname sounds coming from him. It's beginning to sound less degrading and more endearing. Like a pet name. Like something a soulmate would call the other…

You shake your head hard, clearing that completely unwelcome thought out of your mind and focusing once again on the present. That's when you notice that Tae's long sleeved shirt has somehow disappeared.

"Hey, what are you doing?" you ask, slapping a hand over your eyes.

"Getting dressed, what does it look like I'm doing?" Tae asks. "Do you want to work on this project or not?"

"Well, yes, but I wasn't expecting you to disrobe with me in the room."

Tae chuckles. "What kind of person says disrobe?"

"One that appreciates modesty, unlike other people," you reply, jutting your chin in the general direction you figure he stands. You don't know for sure though, because your hand is still plastered over your eyes. You hear him shuffling around, the sound of rustling material coming closer to you and suddenly you sense a presence directly in front of you. "Is it safe to look yet?"

"Yeah."

You pull your hand down from your face only to be met, yet again, with the sight of a bare torso, and a perfectly sculpted one at that.

"Ah, Tae!" you yell. "I thought you were getting dressed!"

"I am!" he replies then steps back to show you he's changed into a pair of black, ripped skinny jeans.

"Getting dressed means putting on a shirt too!" you snap.

Tae shakes his head teasingly. "Ah, so many rules for you prudes," he says before making his way back over to his dresser to find a shirt.

You don't cover your eyes this time. Instead, stealing a very long glance at the boy's naked upper half. Drumming must be a workout because how else could he have such defined back muscles? It's not even how toned he is though that mesmerizes you, but the magnificent inked wings sprawling across his shoulder blades and down the backs of his biceps. From where you stand you can't make out the tiny details of the ink that covers the rest of his arms, but that doesn't matter because you can't stop staring at those wings. They move so realistically as Tae digs around in his drawer, apparently looking for a specific shirt because why the heck else would he be taking this long?

At last, he turns around and you throw your gaze to the the right to make it seem like you were looking at something else the whole time instead of gawking. But of course, the blush in your cheeks gives you away and when you look at him again, his mouth is spread wide in a knowing smirk.

"So are you going to put your shirt on so we can get started or what?" you ask.

"Depends."

"On what?"

"On whether you want me to or not."

"Of course I want you to," you scoff.  Tae's eyebrow quirks up at the same time his smile gets bigger. "Just put on your stupid shirt," you finally mutter then slump down into his desk chair, reluctantly turning your back on the captivating view to rummage through your bag.

At last he goes and sits on his bed, fully clothed much to your relief—though he's chosen a gray henley style shirt and has pushed the sleeves up to expose his forearms, which may not be as distracting but sure is keeping the heat trapped in your cheeks.

It also doesn't help that with his bed being right next to the desk, you're sitting literally a foot away from him. So close that at last you can see the details of those tattoos on his forearms. You can see that it's not just a chaotic mess of ink but a seemingly well thought out design. There's no pattern but it still makes sense, in a way. In the same way that the stars in the sky seem purposefully placed.

The ink on his arms tells a story of sorts. Melodic music staffs intertwine with vines of roses, swirling calligraphy melts into constellations and then into song lyrics. Wisps of smoke enshroud a sorrowful skull, the expert shading making it look so realistic you feel inclined to reach out and touch it.

"Princess?"

You break out of your trance, your head jerking upward so your eyes meet his. You almost expect the smirk to still be plastered on his face but instead his mouth is pressed into a thin line, his brow furrowed, eyes studying yours almost curiously.

"So are we going to get started or...?" he asks.

You sit up taller. "Oh, yeah, sorry," you say quickly then pull out your laptop from your bag.

You didn't really notice until just now that the top of his desk is completely cluttered with books and drumsticks and notepads and empty soda cans and you clutch your laptop protectively against your chest.

"How about we go somewhere else to figure this out?" you ask.

Tae looks from you to his desk and then back before getting up off the bed—swiping a pair of the many drumsticks in the room and his painted leather jacket—and heading for the door. He swings it open wide then turns to look at you again.

“You comin’, Princess?”

“Yeah,” you say breathlessly then quickly get up and follow after him.

For winter, it’s actually a really beautiful day today. The sky is a crisp blue, just a few fluffy clouds floating lazily overhead, and despite the fact that it’s January, it’s actually almost warm enough to be comfortable. You’ll admit it is a little brisk but the cold helps you concentrate. The constant taptaptaptaptaptap as a certain someone uses the hard cover of a book as a makeshift snare drum however is doing the exact opposite of what sitting outside was supposed to achieve for you.

You’ve been staring for several moments now, hoping he’ll look up from where his eyes rest unfocused on the grass, his bottom lip clutched between his teeth as his head moves to some imaginary song, but he continues to be lost in his own world.

“Tae?” you finally say and his forehead wrinkles as he snaps his head up to look at you in anticipation. “Could you stop?”

His irises dip again to look at the tips of his drumsticks where they rest against the book cover. “It’s helping me concentrate.”

“Well, it’s keeping me from concentrating.”

“Which is more important?”

“What do you think?” you ask.

Tae stops, arching his back to stretch it and letting out a dramatic sigh. “This isn’t working,” he says.

“I think you mean you aren’t working,” you correct earning an eye roll. But then, to your surprise, he stands up.

“I think we need a break,” he says then stuffs his drumsticks in his back pocket and holds a hand out to you. “Come on, Princess,” he says.

There’s really no use fighting it. After all, this is a partner project and, as of right now, your partner isn’t being very cooperative. With a sigh, you slap your hand into his and let him pull you up. “Alright, where are we going?” you ask, though you know he’s not going to just flat out answer you.

Unsurprisingly, Tae’s mouth lifts into a cute grin and he waggles his eyebrows. “You’ll see,” he says then tugs you by the hand that, oh yeah, you’re still holding, toward the student lot where your car is parked.

“What is this place?” you ask once the two of you have arrived and stepped over the threshold.

You almost stumble when Tae throws an arm over your shoulders and pulls you in close. Why does he have to smell so good? “This, Princess, is the home of the most mediocre food and beer you’ll ever have in your entire life.”

You look around incredulously. You feel like you’re looking at the small, dimly lit room through a haze of smoke, and maybe you are, though you can’t tell if it’s actual smoke you’re smelling or if the place hasn’t been cleaned in the last three decades. Either way, you’re almost glad you can’t make out the details for fear of what you might see if you look too closely.

What you can see, though, is an old, dark wood bar along one wall, a scattering of tables and booths taking up half the room while a couple old pool tables take up the other half, the green felt tops faded and one torn and patched with a gray strip of duct tape. A jukebox that looks like it’s literally been around since jukeboxes were actually a thing stands like an ancient guardian on the wall behind the tables, the tube lighting yellowed, the lights inside blinking pathetically like they’re about to burn out. Honestly, the whole place looks like it’s about to burn out.

“So, why are we here?” you finally ask.

“It’s one of my favorite places to hang out,” Tae says. “Besides, every Saturday before 5 pm is three dollar beers on tap.”

“They really encourage day drinking here, don’t they?”

“Hey, they get more money, we get cheaper beer. It’s really a win win.”

You can’t help the smile that tugs the corners of your mouth up and unfortunately, he just happens to witness it. “Pool?” he asks.

“Sure, why not?” you say exasperatedly. “It’s not like we have a project to work on or anything.”

“That’s the spirit,” he says, giving your shoulder a comforting squeeze before letting go and starting toward the tables.

The two of you play for a while—well, mostly it’s Tae playing and you watching, trying to figure out how the heck he’s able to make the ball go exactly where he wants it to when you can barely keep the tip of your stick from digging a hole in the felt.

“When are you gonna stop making a fool of yourself and let me teach you how to play?” he asks after your tenth time pocketing the cue ball.

You’re still bent over the side of the table, frozen holding the stick after watching yourself fail so miserably and now you let your head fall onto the felt. “Uh…maybe after a few beers?” you say into the table.

“On it,” Tae says quickly and then is gone and back with full pints before the blush has a chance to leave your cheeks.

You take yours with a grateful smile and take a sip. You’re used to fruitier drinks so the bitter, dark taste has you wincing, your face scrunching on one side as you try to force the gulp down your throat. You hear a garbled laugh and look over to see Tae already finishing his and setting the glass down a bit roughly on the edge of the pool table.

“What?” you ask once you’ve finally gotten the sip down.

“You drink beer like a princess, that’s all.”

That’s it. With a quick “Hail Mary”, you bring your glass back to your lips and tip your head back, trying very hard to ignore the taste and focus on just getting it down your throat. It takes you longer than it did Tae but at last you set your own glass down next to his—much more gently—and swipe the corners of your mouth with your fingers. “Okay,” you say trying to ignore the way the 24 ounces of beer you just guzzled make you feel—or is it his wide beaming smile? “Teach me how to play.”

His expression falls, mouth hanging open for a second before he catches himself. “You want me to teach you?”

“Yeah.”

“To play pool?”

“No, the saxophone.”

Tae rolls his eyes but the smile returns and he starts racking the balls back up in the center of the table. You watch as he does this, noting the way his tongue pokes out of the corner of his mouth in concentration. The air around you starts to heat up and you shrug out of your jacket, setting it on the other pool table.

“Okay, come here,” Tae says standing at the head of the table with the cue stick.

You shuffle over, stumbling a bit, and take the stick from him, trying very hard to ignore the amused smirk on his face. Your stomach flips when he goes to stand behind you, his back pressing against your side as he adjusts your grip.

Get ahold of yourself. A garage rat shouldn’t be making your knees feel so weak. Shouldn’t be making your heart pound in your chest—which he can surely feel with how close he is to you.

“Okay,” he says under his breath. “You have to take your time lining up the shot. Got it?”

You let out a shaky sigh. “Yeah,” you say, though you honestly were paying more attention to the low rasp of his voice than his actual words.

His hands are warm resting over yours as he helps aim. “Okay, try that,” he says.

You take the shot and watch as the ball surges forward, barreling into the others and sending them spreading out across the table. Two actually make their way into the corner pocket and you feel a swell of pride.

“Nice!” Tae exclaims with an excited clap. “See? You’ll be a pro before you know it.”

“Thanks,” you say shifting the cue stick in your hands.

Tae’s eyes dart down to where you hold it.

“I noticed you started wearing a ring to cover up your tattoo,” he says and reaches out, his finger tapping the thick metal band encircling your own. You look down at it, your heart suddenly pulsing too loudly in your ears.

“Uh—yeah. I just…I don’t really know how to bring it up to anyone,” you stutter. “I figure this is just easier to…ignore it.”

“Right. Because once we’re done with this project, I’m dropping the class and we’ll never see each other again.”

“Right,” you say. “What about you? You wore that ring even before our tattoos changed.”

Tae looks down at the band on his own finger. “I just don’t like the idea of other people knowing what my soulmate is feeling. The world doesn’t need to know about your emotions unless you want them to.”

Okay, you weren’t expecting such a sweet answer. In fact, you have no idea how to respond to something like that. This boy is supposed to be some rough around the edges punk that doesn’t care about anyone or anything. So why is he looking at you now like nothing else matters? Change the subject fast.

“Oh hey, I like this song,” you say, tilting your head toward the old jukebox beside you.

Tae’s expression changes quickly, his own eyes shifting to the player and then back to you before he quirks an eyebrow. “You like this?”

“Sure I do.”

“I mean, I never would have pegged you for the type to like the classics. Classical maybe but—”

“Guess you don’t know as much about the Princess of the Upper East Side as you thought you did,” you say, hefting the cue stick in your hands and sauntering past him around to the other side of the table.

Tae smiles, fidgeting with his ring now. “Ah, I think I know quite a bit about your type,” he says and makes his way slowly around after you.

“My type?” you ask curiously. “Like what?”

Tae stops now just beside you and leans back against the table so he’s sitting on the edge. His eyes narrow as if he’s studying you and you feel your skin begin to crawl. Or maybe that’s just the beer. “Like how it’s a constant battle for you to stay on top.”

Now you narrow your own eyes. “What do you mean?”

Tae takes a deep breath, “It’s gotta be exhausting always being on high alert. Always trying to look and act the way the world wants you to. Never getting to relax. Never getting to stray from the path you’ve been placed on.” Then he leans in until his eyes are level with yours. “I think you’d give up anything to be able to do whatever you want. I bet you’d trade anything to be in the shoes of a loser like me.” He’s so close, you notice a small freckle on his bottom lip. “I bet you’d be happy, Princess. I bet you’d love your life then.”

“I do love my life,” you say though your tone isn’t very convincing.

Then he sits back a bit and the air leaves your lungs in a whoosh. “Which part of it?” he asks crossing his arms over his chest. “The people pleasing or the stifling of your dreams?”

You feel like he’s looking deep into your soul and you really don’t like that. But at the same time, you can’t help but lean into him. Because he seems to get it. How is it that someone so far on the other side of the spectrum could understand what you’re going through? And how could someone make that life sound so tempting?

“You wanna know what I really think, Princess?” he asks.

You nod, unable to think of a snarky response.

“I think you feel trapped in your perfect, high society life. I think you wish you could give it all up and follow your dreams like me.” Once more Tae leans into you, this time, his eyes searching yours as if the truth is scrawled across your irises. “What’s your dream, Princess?” he asks softly.

Even with the beer buzzing through you, the nerves causing your hands to shake, an overwhelming feeling of sadness hits you and you again find yourself feeling breathless. It knocks the wind out of you.

“It doesn’t matter,” you whisper and swallow thickly as you feel your throat beginning to close up.

Tae’s eyes dig deeper into yours. “Why?”

You inhale, trying to get yourself back under control. “Because dreams don’t get you anywhere.” The air seems to be warming up around you. Suddenly you feel too hot.

“But don’t you think they make this life worth living?” Tae asks, his breath fanning your face. Too hot. You can’t breathe.

“I have to go,” you say quickly, letting the cue stick drop to the floor as you create distance between you and your soulmate as quickly as you possible can.

You make it out to the parking lot, key fob in your hand when you feel a hand grip your shoulder and you whirl around to face him again.

“Why doesn’t it matter, Princess?” he asks sternly. “Why does your happiness mean less than whatever corporate dream your parents have for you? Why don’t you get to do what you want with this life? Huh?”

“Because it’s important to my father to follow in his footsteps.”

Tae lets out a humorless laugh and throws his hands up in the air. “But is it important to you?” he asks. “More important than your dreams and your passions? Do you really think that life is about pleasing everyone else even if it makes you miserable?”

“Just stop, Tae!” you yell and his mouth snaps shut, his jaw working as he grinds his teeth. “You can’t just waltz in and tell me to go against everything I’ve ever known. Just stop trying to change everything. You don’t understand what it’s like in my world.

Tae looks down at his feet, shoving his hands deep into his pockets before meeting your eyes again. They’re turned down in the corners. Sad suddenly. “Actually I do,” he mutters. “More than you know.”

Then he turns and heads back into the bar.

Taehyung lets out a frustrated growl and rips off the bandana wrapped around his head. It’s meant to keep his hair out of his eyes while he’s drumming but right now it’s just another irritation. It’s just he and Hoseok today in Hoseok’s garage, working on a new song. The band’s frontman is sitting cross-legged on the ground, his guitar across his lap and he’s bent over it, resting it in the hollow of his armpit as he writes messily on the notebook in front of him. The two have been at it for a little while now, Taehyung messing around on the drums trying to find a new hook while Hoseok has been figuring out the melody. Writing sessions have always been valuable to Taehyung. It’s given him the chance to let his creativity just flow until something amazing happened. And it usually did. Today, though, he can’t let go the way he usually does. Because your face haunts his thoughts.

“What’s eating you, man?” Hoseok finally asks, his brow furrowing in concern for his friend.

Taehyung shakes his head. “I don’t know,” he mutters. “Everything’s just off today.” His eyes fall to Hoseok’s hand where it grips the neck of the guitar, specifically to the red double banded tattoo on his ring finger. The night Seokjin came into the club they were performing at enters his mind. The way that boy’s eyes sparkled so arrogantly makes the hairs on the back of Taehyung’s neck stand up even now. He stuck out like a sore thumb in that club surrounded by all those “commoners”. And he said he was a friend of Jennie’s. Of yours. It doesn’t make sense for two different worlds to be colliding the way they are.

“Hobi, how are you so chill with this whole thing?” Taehyung asks.

Hoseok’s eyes widen. “With what?”

“You and Jennie.”

At the mention of her name, his face softens and a shy smile plays on his lips. “I don’t know, man. It’s fate, right? Jennie’s my soulmate. I’m supposed to be with her.”

“But don’t you think it’s weird that you’d ended up with someone like that?” Taehyung asks pushing the bass pedal down a few times, eliciting a deep beat from the drum. “All designer clothes and tea parties and all that crap.”

Hoseok shrugs and puts his guitar aside. “I don’t know,” he says. “Classes are, like, a social construct. Fate is fate. You don’t argue with that.”

Yeah, tell that to her best friend.

“You’re the last person I would have thought to say those words, my dude,” Taehyung says with a shake of his head. “You’ll turn anything into an argument.”

Hoseok narrows his eyes. “No I don’t.”

Taehyung quirks an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth lifting into a knowing smirk.

“Shut up. Besides, the girl’s easy to love. She may give off that whole spoiled brat vibe but she’s nothing like that,” he continues and somehow his eyes suddenly seem to sparkle. “She’s really, like, deep and funny. And hot. And she likes listening to our music.”

“Oh good, our first groupie,” Taehyung says then hits his sticks against the drums and cymbals to emphasize the joke. Of course, this earns him a hit to the arm and a glare and he can’t help but laugh as he rubs the pain away from his bicep. His smile quickly drops though when he thinks of what Seokjin said the other night. About how you must feel about the whole thing. Sure his friend is happy and living the dream, but yours?

“Do you really think this is a good idea though?” Taehyung asks more seriously now. “I mean, maybe there was a mistake or something. We just don’t mix with those kinds of people.”

Hoseok stares at his friend, “I don’t think fate makes mistakes,” he says then holds up his hand and wiggles his fingers. “We’re connected, man. I’ve reached, like, nirvana or something. I feel enlightened.”

“Are you sure you’re not just high?”

Hoseok tilts his head back and scoffs. “High on love, maybe,” he jokes. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

He juts his chin toward Taehyung’s hand where it rests on his knee, fist clenched tightly around a drumstick. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed. You found your soulmate too.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Taehyung mutters.

Hoseok reaches forward and smacks him again on the arm, eliciting a yelp. “Don’t pretend like you don’t know what I’m talking about then. You can’t tell me you didn’t feel it.”

Taehyung reaches up to rub at the back of his sweaty neck. “Yeah, I felt something, alright,” he says remembering the burning pain when the second ring appeared that first day in class. And then the warmth that flooded his chest, spreading through him, and making his whole body tingle. He’s felt different ever since. Especially being near to you.

He pulls his lip into his mouth, clamping it between his teeth as he thinks about how holding you back at the bar made him feel. He felt at home with you in his arms. Felt whole. Felt good. And then how suddenly empty he was when you ran away from him. How adamant your eyes were that the two of you would never be together. Even if it was meant to be. Even if he has your jacket that you left at the bar sitting on his desk in his room. Your jacket that smells like you. “Yeah, I don’t know about her though,” he says. “I don’t think she wants me.”

“She’ll get there, man,” Hoseok says clapping his hand on Taehyung’s shoulder. His fingers dig in—not too hard, more reassuringly. Like it somehow punctuates his point. “No one can run from fate.”

Taehyung looks down at his mark. It’s been alternating between shades of blue now for a couple days and he knows the one on your finger is probably about the same. This is another reason he always wears his ring. Your mood can’t spoil his if he can’t see it. Though he never drums with his ring on anymore. He used to get bad blood blisters from it sliding around and pinching his skin. So now he’s forced to see it. Currently, it’s a bold, cobalt, which isn’t too bad compared to the navy it was earlier. But still.

He pushes his hand under his thigh—out of sight, out of mind—then takes a deep breath. “She made it pretty clear she doesn’t want to see me anymore,” he says.

“She obviously does,” Hoseok replies and when Taehyung looks up to meet his eyes, Hoseok gestures with his head back down to the drummer’s now hidden tattoo. Apparently he noticed its melancholy color. “So who is she, anyway?”

“Jennie’s best friend,” Taehyung says and then is completely taken by surprise when Hoseok lets out a laugh.

“Your soulmate is Miss Princess of the Upper East Side? Ha! And you were raggin’ on me about being paired up with someone like that,” he says the last few words in a mock deep tone. “Look at us losers stealing away our ladies from the evil dragon that is high society. Their parents must be shook, bro!”

Hoseok laughs again like this is the funniest thing he’s ever heard, and maybe it is. It’s still pretty crazy to Taehyung that he would end up with someone so the complete opposite of himself. And yet, there’s something in you that he recognizes. Something he noticed deep in your eyes when they were locked on his the other day at the bar. It was unmistakable.

A fire. An undeniable passion for…something. A passion that needs to be set free. He’s sure you’d be a different person, a person he knows is made for him in the same way he knows he’s made for you. He can see it in you because he saw it in himself. A dream trapped in the confines of a steel cage just aching to be let out.

And maybe he has the key.

You used to love these network brunches when you were younger. You loved dressing up and going to these beautiful outdoor venues with lavish spreads and pretty music and you'd run around with Jennie, fending off Seokjin and stealing the last bits of drinks to mix together into Frankensteinian concoctions of your own.

And then there were the times that your father had you shadowing him, following him around from person to person, you standing quietly to the side and watching him do what you hoped to do someday. You used to feel so important in your skirt and blazer and heels, especially when your father would introduce you to whoever he was talking to and they'd reach out and shake your hand. Even when you were little and had to reach up to grasp it, you still felt a sense of pride. And you knew your father did too.

You don't remember when you stopped liking going to these brunches. Perhaps it was when you hit puberty and started feeling less respected and more gawked at. Maybe it was when you started feeling like they were talking down to you, or when they didn't talk to you at all, only ever acknowledging you with a nod or an up and down stare. Or maybe it was just because you no longer wanted this to be your life. This wasn't your dream. Still isn't your dream. Your dream is hidden away in a drawer back at home.

So now you find yourself once again at one of those brunches. The food is still fine, though you've grown tired of the same thing time and time again. The music only ever reminds you of how much you hate being at things like this. How much you hate what it represents. A path with no outlets other than the one your parents have put there for you. Even the mimosas aren't doing enough to keep you distracted from the judging guests.

You hear their whispered conversations, about you, about Jennie and her "situation". Not to mention Jennie isn't here to be the comic relief, the only other people you'd call even remotely friends being Seokjin and Yoongi who are standing in a corner, sipping their own drinks, not even trying to network because they know people will respect them just because they're men.

It's all the same. It's all just standing quietly to the side, listening and observing, nodding every so often to make it seem like you're paying attention. It's stiff suits and too warm air, and sore cheeks from faking a polite smile. It's thick silver rings to cover double banded tattoos and thoughts of this boy. This boy that shouldn't be so deep in your head. But he's there, imprinted on your mind like his emotions are on your skin and now you wish more than anything, that you could peek under your ring and know how he's feeling. Especially after everything that happened the other day. You can almost hear his voice. Almost smell his cologne. Almost see his face, eyes roving over the room as he searches warily for you.

Wait.

"Tae?"

His painted leather jacket stands out against the formal attire as he slowly makes his way out into the courtyard.

"I'm sorry, please excuse me," you say quickly to the person your father is currently talking to then you nod at your father apologetically and cut across the room before he can protest.

As you near him, you see that Hoseok and Jungkook are flanking him, all three looking extremely uncomfortable. Even when Tae finally spots you, his eyes stay wide, stay nervous. As if he's a sheep making his way slowly through a pack of sleeping wolves.

"What are you doing here?" you ask as soon as you get to him.

"You left your jacket at the bar and Jennie told Hobi you were here," he explains then turns to Hoseok. "You didn't mention this was a frikin soiree."

Hoseok shrugs. "I didn't know, man. Jennie just said this was where she'd be."

You take your jacket out of Tae's hand and clutch it against you. "Okay, well, I have it now. Thanks. You can go."

Tae steps closer to you and you once again catch a whiff of his cologne. "Princess, we really need to talk."

"Well, I don't want to, Tae," you interrupt. You just need to get him out of here before—

"Ah, Honey, who are these...people?"

You wince, pursing your lips together as you turn to face your father. "Daddy, this is Tae and his friends."

Your father narrows his eyes at the boys and suddenly you feel the need to protect them with your life. "And he is?"

To your dismay, Tae steps forward. "I'm her—"

"Partner," you blurt out in a panic. "For a project. At school." Well that's not a lie, at least. "He was just returning my jacket I left at the...cafe we were at the other day.”

Tae stares at you, his expression unreadable and you look away quickly to see your father studying him as well. "Well, you have it back now," then he turns to Tae. "I appreciate you returning my daughter's coat but we are in the middle of a very important gathering, so if you could please be on your way."

"Yeah, no problem," Tae mutters then looks at you one more time before turning to leave.

"Kim Taehyung!"

You spin now to see one of the many guests with her eyes set on the boy behind you. When you turn around again, his stoic expression has transformed into one of horror.

"I can't believe it's really you!" the woman goes on, making her way over to you. "How long has it been now? Eight? Ten years? My, you've changed!"

You watch in a confused stupor as the woman steps past you and your father to put her arms around Tae. To your surprise, he looks much less confused, though much more horrified.

"I remember when you used to come to these events," the woman continues. "You were just a little thing, always wanting to be just like your father. Always so serious.“ Then she turns to you. "We all knew he was going to be successful when he grew up." Back to Tae now. "Such big shoes you were going to fill. I was so sorry to hear when you moved away. But you're back now!" That's when the lady seems to notice his pierced and inked up friends for the first time and her expression falls. She steps back now, looking Tae up and down, seemingly also finally noticing the way he's dressed. "Or...not?"

You feel like you haven't taken a breath the entire time this woman has been rambling on, your eyes fixed on Tae, watching him as he stands there with his lips slightly parted, eyes wide, whole body stiff.

"Ah, now I recognize you," your father says from over your shoulder and you look back at him. "Kim Songmin's son." Then his smile widens almost...maliciously. "You took a different path, it seems. How's that working out for you?"

A fiery glint passes through Tae's eyes. "Great."

"Daddy."

"You probably never knew him when you were children,” he says turning toward you. "We called Taehyung his father's shadow. He'd stay right on his heels, always wanting to be a part of the conversation. Such a good, respectable boy. Not sure what happened there."

"I grew a backbone," Tae snarls and you see J-Hope and Kook step closer, looking like they're ready to start something if Tae says the word.

Quickly, you step in front of your father, blocking Tae's view so he's forced to look at you. "What is he talking about, Tae?" you ask.

"Just what he said, Princess," Tae replies, his words burning you like hot coals. "I took a different path."

Then he turns away from you, starting toward the exit when he's blocked by the last person surely either of you want to see right now. The wolves have awakened, and now it's time to feast.

"Kim Taehyung, huh?" Seokjin asks, his own eyes glinting as if he's just been granted the keys to the city. “Just another trust fund kid like the rest of us."

Tae turns one last time, gaze finding home in yours, his eyes so downturned and sad that you feel your heart begin to sink.

"Tae," your voice comes out as nothing more than a whisper. Even if he does hear you, you don't know because he's turned away again to follow after his bandmates who have already disappeared through the gate. You watch him leave, feeling the finality of it and at that moment you feel your heart slip completely and shatter on the floor.

Taehyung doesn't come to class for the whole next week which sends you into a bit of a panic because A) you're supposed to be doing a project with him and B) he seems like the type that might fall to an unhealthy level of self-loathing if left to his own devices for very long.

You're so tempted to go to his dorm but something always stops you. This is what you wanted, isn't it? To cut all ties with him? Sure, it would have been nice to at least get the project done first but maybe this is for the best. Maybe now you can refocus on shadowing your father and preparing to take over his company. Now that there's no chance of meeting your soulmate down the line and dealing with the compromise of getting married and having a family, you can focus on the one thing for the rest of your life.

One thing.

Your one path.

You may never get the excitement that would've come from being with Tae for the rest of your life, but you'll have the stability. You'll have the promise of success. And that's what's important...right?

It’s hard, though not to think about him. To not check the tattoo under your ring every five minutes. You always hope it’ll be a little bit lighter, a little bit bluer as the days go by but it never changes, always a brutal black double line. You don’t know what’s worse, seeing the black lines on your own finger or knowing he probably sees a similar sight when he checks his own. If he even does. Or maybe his ring stays in place at all times because why would he care how you’re feeling? But then again, if you don’t want to be with him, why do you care so much?

“I don’t get it, J,” you say as your eyes fall to where your best friend’s hand rests on the table, the double bands around her ring finger tinted scarlet. “How are you so happy with everything that has happened?”

When you look up at her face, her own eyes are still resting on her tattoo, her mouth curled up into a thoughtful smile. “I know you can’t understand it, babe,” she says, “but I feel more free with Hoseok than I ever have in this life. I think this is the one thing that’s been mapped out for me that I actually want, you know?”

“Yeah, maybe,” you utter, your attention drawn to your glass now where a little bit of liquid still sits among the melting ice cubes. You went for a bit stronger of a drink this evening, knowing you were going to have to have this conversation with your best friend and absolutely dreading it. Not because you don’t want to associate with her anymore but because knowing that she so happily gave up the things she had for her soulmate just makes your guilt burrow that much deeper. Already you feel it drilling into your chest, making your heart ache.

“What about you?”

You look up to meet her gaze again. “Hmm?”

“Hobi told me about Tae,” she says, her eyes glittering. “Apparently the boy never stops talking about you.”

Great. Another stab of guilt punches the air out of your lungs. “Have you heard anything about him this week?” you ask, your voice weak from the crushing pain in your chest.

Jennie shakes her head, her smile faltering now that she can see how upset you really are. You tried hiding the anguish during dinner, though it was obvious to both of you that you’ve been quieter than usual.

Now you let out a heavy sigh and put your glass down on the table. “I’ve made my choice, Jennie,” you say bluntly. “This is what I want. I want to take over my father’s company and be successful and just not have to worry about not knowing what I’m doing for the rest of my life. I just want to stay on this path that they’ve laid out for me.”

“Is that really what you want or are you just afraid of disappointing your parents?” Jennie asks pointedly.

You let out a humorless chuckle. “Have you met my father?”

Jennie quirks an eyebrow. “Have you met mine?” You feel your own mouth lift to match her smirk. “Do you think I would have left that all behind if I didn’t think Hobi was worth it?” Then she takes a deep breath, looking around the room as if she sees something different than you do. Something magical. “Life is so much more beautiful now with him in it,” she says and you believe her. You don’t doubt for a second that she’s happier now than she ever was before. Even with everything she had, the clothes, the cars, the trips, nothing could quite make her eyes sparkle the way they do now.

You blink as your own eyes begin to burn and you swallow hard. “I’m just scared, J” you finally say and lick your lips as you feel your throat begin to close up.

Jennie reaches across to take your hand in hers. “I know, babe, but you deserve to love life too.” Her fingers pinch your silver ring and slowly slide it up your finger, revealing the double black lines that seem to have become permanent. “You both do.”

You stare down at the tattoo, everything bleeding together until you feel a tear land on the back of your hand. “I think I love him, J,” you whisper before looking up at your best friend.

“Then it doesn’t matter what other people want from you. This is your life, babe, and it’s the only one you get. And if you want Tae to be in it, then I suggest you go find him.” Then she sits back again, lifting a hand to motion to the waiter that she wants the check. “I got this, doll. Go get your man.”

With a quick swipe across your cheek, you push your ring back down over your finger and grab your purse off the back of your chair. “Thanks, J,” you say and get up. But instead of hurrying for the exit, you turn back to her again. “I’m sorry that everything happened the way it did. But I’m honestly really happy for you and Hoseok.”

A cool smile spreads across Jennie’s mouth and she crosses one leg over the other, draping an arm over the back of her chair and raising her glass. “See you on the other side,” she says then takes a sip of her wine and gives you a wink.

The bar is just as smoky and dusty as it was the first time you came here with Tae, though being a Thursday night, it’s much more crowded, the heat from all the bodies now being added to the mix. The hazy air is filled with the loud conversations and the cracking of billiard balls as they hit together, the underlying rock song coming from the jukebox just adding to the chaos.

You don’t want to be here, but you’ve already checked his dorm and, according to Jennie, he isn’t with his bandmates. This place is your last hope.

It isn’t big but it’s packed and you’re having a hard time focusing your eyes on the people in the room. Your heart sinks lower in your chest with each strange face.

Maybe this was a bad idea. He has to go back home eventually. You can just wait outside his dorm or something.

“Looking for someone, Princess?”

You turn around at the familiar nickname only to be met with an unfamiliar face.

The man is obviously hammered, leaning against his pool cue with most likely his full weight. “Don’t really see your kind here,” he slurs.

“Yeah I was just looking for someone,” you say and take a nervous step backward. The guy leans dangerously closer and you can’t tell if he’s about to fall or just being creepy. Probably both.

“Doesn’t seem to be here, does he?” the man asks and then chuckles to himself as if he made a joke. “Why don’t you come join me and my friends? We can teach you a thing or two.”

You look past him at the rest of the guys surrounding the table, each watching the exchange with amused faces. Only one of them seems to not really be enjoying this but of course, he has his head down, eyes glued to the floor. Such a coward.

“No thanks,” you say. “I know how to play pool just fine.” Of course that just brings back memories of the last time you were here. Taehyung’s body warm against your side, his hands covering yours, his breath on your ear as he spoke softly to you. You have to find him. “I should go,” you say then turn for the door.

Before you can take a full step, you feel a hand clamp down on your arm. “Awe come on, Princess, play with us.”

“She said she doesn’t want to.”

Now that voice you recognize.

You jerk your head to your right, eyes settling on the graffiti painted jacket before lifting to rest on Tae’s face. His hair hangs in his eyes and he looks beaten down, yet the way his fists clench at his sides tells you he’s ready to shed some blood.

“Hey, chill man, I was just seeing if she wanted to—”

“And she said she doesn’t,” Tae interrupts coming closer. “So how about you take your grubby paws off her, go back to your gaggle and leave her alone?”

The guy loosens his grip enough for you to wrench your arm away and he shakes his head. “Just wanted to hang out,” he mutters. “Guess the stuck up princess is too good for us lowly commoners.”

Before you have a chance to really understand what’s happening, the guy is on the floor, Taehyung above him with the guy’s shirt in one fist while the other connects again and again with his face. Barely seconds later, the rest of his posse jumps in, ripping Tae off of him. You stumble back, eyes wide, mouth open in shock, mind completely blank as you watch the chaos ensue. It’s a blur of bodies and fists and painted leather in the haze of smoke and before too long, other patrons have come to untangle the mess. You barely catch Tae as he’s thrown into you, his face bloodied and sweaty, eyes gleaming with anger and at first when he meets your stare, you’re afraid he might punch you, but then his expression falls and he stumbles a bit. You manage to finally snap out of your stupor in time to catch him around the waist before he can go over.

“Come on,” you say. “Let’s get you out of here.”

The cab ride back to your apartment is long and silent. Tae keeps his eyes glued to the window on his side of the car, his hand resting on the leather seat between the two of you. You, however, can’t look away from him. From his tangled hair—tips stringy with sweat, plastered down over his ears and his forehead—to his fist clenched so tightly on the seat that his knuckles are white making the bloodied scrapes all the more stark. You want to cover that hand with your own. You want to look into his eyes and tell him you love him. Tell him that everything has changed. That you don’t want this life you currently have. You want one with him. Instead, you’re silent, your confession caged behind your teeth, your heart aching because when you peeked under your ring a second ago, you saw that the lines were still black.

“Nothing more fitting for a princess than a palace,” Tae mutters once the two of you have gotten out of the cab in front of your apartment building.

With a sigh, you grip the sleeve of his jacket and pull him along behind you inside. The doorman gives you a curious look as you pass but you don’t say a word, knowing that it would take too much explaining and you just don’t have the time. Not to mention, you know he’s going to say something to your mother the next time she stops by—which is often—and the fewer details he knows, the better.

You drag Tae into the elevator and feel him watch as you press the button for the top floor. A small chuckle escapes him and you look over to find him now staring at the floor. He brings a hand up, touching his finger to his eyebrow and wincing before taking it away to look at the blood smearing the tip.

When the doors open again, you take his hand gently and tug him out of the elevator.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” you say and he meets your eyes this time, the change in his demeanor unmistakable when he notices the change in yours.

Without another word, he lets you pull him through the huge, empty space, the sounds of your shoes echoing against the white marble floor. You can only imagine the kind of tracks his black soled boots are probably making and the looks that will be on the faces of the maids that will have to clean them up tomorrow.

You lead him into the bathroom and he sits down on the edge of your jacuzzi tub while you get a washcloth damp. When you turn around again, you see he’s shrugged out of his jacket, now wearing just a white t-shirt and sitting too low on the edge of the tub.

“Come here,” you say, pulling him back toward the vanity and having him lean against the counter.

With trembling fingers, you brush his hair back off his forehead so you can more easily assess the damage. There’s too much blood to really be able to tell what’s what, but once you’ve wiped most of it away, you see a big cut across his cheekbone, and a shallower one slicing through one eyebrow. You set the rag down and pull a box of bandages out of the drawer next to you.

“What were you doing at the bar?” Tae finally asks, his voice hoarse after barely using it for so long.

You fidget with the bandages in the box, letting your fingernail fan across the edges before finally pulling one out. “I was looking for you,” you say then pull your lip into your mouth.

You don’t really want to look at him now. Not this close. You spent most of the cab ride trying to figure out what you were going to say to him and now that you’re here, you still don’t know. You want to ask about his past. You want to ask what happened. Why he left his family. You want to tell him how sorry you are. How much of an idiot you’ve been. But there are too many thoughts swirling around in your brain right now and he’s standing so extremely close to you and you’re terrified to meet his eyes.

“Why?” he asks.

At long last, you tear the package open and pull the bandage out before finally looking up. You refuse to look anywhere but at the cut on his cheek and use the rag to clean it a bit more, eliciting another wince and a sharp intake of breath from him.

“Sorry,” you utter before carefully taking his chin in your hand and tilting his head to the side so you can place the small white strip over the cut. You press the ends down gently with your thumb, noticing his jaw clenching and unclenching again under your fingers.

“Princess.”

Now your eyes dart up to meet his and the way his drill into yours causes you to drop your hands from his face and curl them into fists at your sides.

“Why were you looking for me?” he asks. “I thought you never wanted to see me again. I thought you were done with me.”

“I thought so too,” you say under your breath, more to yourself than to him and you close your eyes. This is what you wanted. You wanted a chance to tell him everything and now you have it. You inhale deeply. “I had dinner with Jennie tonight,” you say. “Before I came looking for you.”

“And?”

Another deep breath. “And she told me…that I deserve to love my life.” You wring the damp rag in your hands, looking down at it as you continue. “And I think I realized when I was with you at the bar the other day that I don’t love my life and I think when I realized that, it really scared me.” Now you lift your head again to look at Tae. His brows are furrowed, mouth set in a solemn line, eyes so focused on you, you feel like he can somehow see into your soul. Like he somehow knows what you want to say even before you say it. “This is all really scary for me, Tae,” you say shakily. “You don’t really realize what I’d be giving up.”

Tae’s mouth pulls up into a smirk. “Actually, I think I do,” he says.

“Oh right,” you laugh and for a moment you feel your nerves loosen. But then you tense right back up and swallow hard. “But what I think I’m trying to say is that…while I’m scared…I also don’t want to go down the path I’m on anymore. I don’t want to take over my father’s company. I don’t want to go to anymore of those stupid networking brunches. I don’t want to go to anymore parties where everyone only likes me because of my status. I’m sick of being fake happy. I want to love life, Tae.”

“And how are you going to do that?” he asks.

You feel heat begin to bloom in your chest, your heart hammering against your ribs. “By being with you, I think.”

Tae’s smile disappears, his tongue swiping across his bottom lip nervously as he begins to lean in. Just as you feel his lips brush yours, you pull back, putting a hand on his chest. “Wait, not right now. Not when you’re drunk.”

Tae tilts back again and raises an eyebrow. “I’m not drunk.”

“You just got in a bar fight, what do you mean you aren’t drunk?” you ask confused.

“I didn’t punch the guy cuz I was drunk, I punched him cuz he was being a douche bag.” Then he steps closer again, carefully putting his hands on the counter on either side of you, trapping you there against it. With your palm pressed to his chest, you can feel his heart hammering beneath his t-shirt. “The only way I’m not kissing you right now, Princess, is if you don’t want me to.”

You’ve never wanted anything in this life as much as you want him to kiss you right now.

“I want you to,” you say.

Several silent seconds pass between you before Tae lets out what you can only describe as a sigh of relief and then his lips are on yours. He kisses you hard, fervently as if his whole life has culminated to this moment. And maybe it has. Yours definitely has.

There’s no space between the two of you and it’s making it hard for you to breathe. But you don’t want to breathe, not if it means pulling away. Your head is swimming, your heartbeats pounding against each other as his mouth moves on yours but then you’re feeling too light-headed and  you pull back, resting your forehead against his.

“I love you, Tae,” you whisper before opening your eyes to look into his. “You know that?”

His lips are already reddening, his pupils large and he brings one hand out of your hair to rest against the side of your face. “I do now,” he says as his thumb draws gentle circles on your cheekbone. “And I love you. Ah, I really really love you, Princess.”

Your mind is reeling, heart racing and all you can think about is him. About this boy that has come into your life and changed everything. Nothing will ever be the same now and even as you pull his face back to yours so you can kiss him again, you can’t remember why you were scared in the first place. Any doubts you had before have vanished from your brain. You’d go anywhere with him. You’d live at the bottom of the ocean with this boy. Nothing scares you now.

You want to stay like this forever. Just stay right here watching him sleep beside you. His face is so peaceful, dark eyelashes fanned out across his cheekbones, lips slightly parted, his soft breaths coming out in a gentle hush. Even with the bandage and the cut on his eyebrow he looks amazing. He’s laying on his stomach, the golden expanse of his back spread out before you, the curve of his spine catching the light coming in through your window. His inked arms rest on the mattress on either side of his head, the wings on his back unfurled like he’s an angel in flight.

Your eyes focus on the hand on this side of him, the silver band on his ring finger shining dully. Slowly, you reach over, taking the ring between two of your fingers and pulling it up to his knuckle. Your mouth curls into a smile when red double lines come into view. You’ve never felt this happy. In fact, you’d bet his mark has never been red. How could you have not wanted this?

Looking past his hand again at his face, your eyes skim over his features and your hands itch to draw him. You’ve never wanted to sketch a person before but this boy is a work of art.

As quietly as you can, you slide out from beneath the sheets, grabbing his t-shirt up off the floor and slipping it on before making your way across the carpet and into your walk-in closet. The separate room is bigger than Tae’s dorm room. Twice the size, actually, with a giant glass-topped island in the middle containing your vast array of jewelry, sunglasses and the like. You make your way around it, trailing your finger along its top, unable to keep the smile off your face as you bring your other hand up to touch your neck, reminiscantly. You catch your reflection in one of the full-length mirrors as you pass it, noticing a collection of marks peppering your skin. Looks like you’ll be wearing a turtle neck sweater tonight when you go to your parents’ house for dinner. You feel a heaviness in your gut at the thought.

By the time you reach your jewelry cabinet, a rock has formed in your stomach. You felt so fearless wrapped in Tae’s arms. So bold, so daring, so lost in the freedom that you completely forgot about the life you currently live. You can already imagine the looks on their faces when they find out who your soulmate is. The disappointment, the rage, the horror. Surely, your mother loved watching the Parks go through the drama of having their own daughter come home with a loser but only because she knew it could never happen to her. She knew fate would never be so cruel and that her own daughter, being the level-headed, business-minded person you are and being on the very straight and narrow path you’re on, would never end up with someone like Jennie’s soulmate. Well, you’ve got news for her.

You sit down on the floor in front of your jewelry cabinet and pull the bottom drawer open. Rows of rings gleam back at you, the inset lights coming on the moment the drawer opens, now shining off the polished bands and inlayed stones. You pull the tray they reside in out of the drawer and reach far back into it until you feel the familiar hard cover of your sketchbook.

You’ve had this thing forever, the navy blue cover a bit worn on the corners from your habit of picking at them when you’re thinking. The pages flutter beneath your thumb as you fan through them, each of your designs flashing past in a blur before you reach the newest one. You pause to study it.

It’s a forest green gown, long and flowing with flowers cascading asymmetrically down the bodice. A dress that appeared in your mind one night in your half-sleep state so vividly you just had to wake up and sketch it out. Even as you drew it, you knew this one, like your others, would never be anything more than graphite and color on a page. You knew this would never be something to pursue, but just as dreams are a figment of your imagination, so was the idea of becoming a designer. But then you met Tae and now you realize that drumming, at one point, was just a stirring in his heart instead of something he actually thought he’d be able to do. Maybe…just maybe you’ll be able to see this dress come to life one day.

Fingers softly brush your hair off your shoulder and you close your eyes at the touch.

“You did that?” A voice asks, deep and gravely with sleep. “It’s incredible.”

You smile, reaching back to rest a hand against his thigh—now clad in his black boxers. “You sound surprised.”

“I guess I just never pegged you for the artsy type,” Tae says against your shoulder. His hair tickles the side of your face and you lean away, craning your neck back so you can see him. For a second, you’re dazzled at the sight of him, dark hair sticking up every which way, the lights from the open drawer making his eyes sparkle like gems.

“I bet if I saw you in your high society life, I wouldn’t think you could be a drummer.” The mention of his old life causes Tae’s eyes and smile to sink and immediately you squeeze his thigh and lean back into him in an attempt to cheer him back up again. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, Tae,” you say.

“No, it’s okay,” he says then takes your hand and brings it up to his mouth so he can brush your knuckles along his bottom lip thoughtfully. “I mean, if you’re my soulmate, you should probably know that stuff about me, right?” You shrug and the corners of his mouth curl up again. He takes a deep breath. “I don’t know,” he says. “I used to think I didn’t have any choices. My life was so structured and planned I’d accepted my fate and convinced myself that I actually wanted to take over my dad’s business. I’d see the way my parents interacted with each other and with their peers and it just all seemed so forced. Even as adults, no one seemed to be able to make their own decisions. They all looked so trapped, you know?”

You look down at the sketchbook in your lap. Oh yes, you know.

“I think one day I just sort of realized that this wasn’t what I wanted. I didn’t know what I wanted but I knew it wasn’t that. I think my parents were shocked when I told them I wouldn’t be pursuing their dream for me.” He takes a deep breath. “My dad wanted to disown me. Well, I mean, he basically did, but my mom convinced him not to. They still kicked me out, though. That’s how I met Hobi and the rest of the guys. And how I got into drumming.”

“So you didn’t have a dream when you cut ties?” you ask.

Tae shakes his head. “I mean, I guess my dream was just to not turn out like my dad.”

“I’d say you achieved that,” you say eliciting a chuckle from him.

“I think my biggest fear was becoming trapped in a life I didn’t want,” he says sitting up straighter and rolling his shoulders.

Though you can’t see it, you picture the wings across his back shifting with the motion. “Is that why you got those wings?” you finally ask.

Tae seems to have noticed you staring and he smirks. Heat reaches your ears. “I thought they were fitting,” he says at last. “Why? Do you like them?” Like them? You love them. They’re perfect. Beautiful. You only nod and his smile widens. “Good. They’re the only reminder of my past I’ll ever need.”

“Your past doesn’t mean as much to me as the present and future,” you say watching as he lifts your hand back to his mouth.

“It’s still a part of me though,” Tae says against your fingers. “One I hoped would stay in the past but I have a feeling it’s not going to since my soulmate is the Princess of the Upper East Side.”

You pull your bottom lip into your mouth and look down again at the sketchbook in your lap. For once that title doesn’t fill you with a sense of pride. In fact, you feel dread fill your chest at the thought of having to face your parents. Even if you’re able to keep this all secret tonight, it’ll come out eventually. Are you really ready to let this life you’ve always known slip out from under you? Are you ready to let it all crumble?

You look at Tae again. This boy has already been through it and though his life is nothing like it was before, though he no longer fits the mold of high society, he’s a better person for it. A more passionate person. A happier person. That’s what you want. And you know a life with Tae will cause you to grow into that person. But how can you become this new person if you try to keep it hidden?

You take a deep breath before turning around to face him. “Come with me tonight,” you say. “To my parents’ house.”

Tae’s eyes widen. “Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, it’s got to come out eventually, right? Might as well get it over with.” Then you look down at your sketchbook again and your mouth lifts into a hopeful smile. “I’m ready to start my new life.”

Tae’s face splits into a beaming grin and he sets your sketchbook aside before reaching out for you. His fingers dig into your hips and he pulls you onto his lap, your knees resting on the floor on either side of him, your chest pressed against his as he hugs you. He’s so warm and even through the thin material of his t-shirt you’re wearing, you can feel his heart beating erratically. It’s obvious he’s nervous. You are too. You’ve never wanted to veer off the path laid out for you before. But now there’s nothing more in this life you want than to start over with him.

“I’ll be there,” he says, his shaky breath fanning across your face. Then he leans in to press a kiss to your lips. “Whatever you want, Princess.”

“You didn’t even try to cover these up?” you scold as you dab makeup onto the purpled skin at Tae’s throat. He only smirks down at you.

“Hey, I’m not the one that put them there. I was just letting you enjoy your handiwork.” Then he leans in to press a quick kiss to your nose before you can pull back. “Though I see you’ve taken a different approach.” His hand comes up and he pinches the high collar of your black turtle neck. “Looks good. Very Steve Jobs chic.”

“Come on, Tae,” you say with a sigh and finally meet his eyes. “This is serious. I don’t think you know just how big of a disaster this night is going to be.” His amused expression falls when he sees how solemn your own is.

Then he reaches up to cup your face in his hands. “Hey,” he says softly and you have to bite your lip to keep it from quivering as you feel the tears coming on. “We don’t have to do this. At least not tonight. How about you go without me? I can wait for you here and we can hang out when you get back.”

You shake your head, swallowing hard to clear the lump in your throat. “No, the sooner I get this over with the better,” you say. Then you meet his eyes again and give him a weak smile. “I want to do this.”

“Do you want me to change my shirt then?” he asks you.

His usual ripped jeans have been replaced with black skinny jeans, his painted leather jacket and white t-shirt switched out for a long sleeved, black button down printed with a white swirling design. The top few buttons are undone to expose his throat and collarbones. He looks incredible. “No, no, please no,” you say quickly.

Tae’s grin spreads wider, his teeth coming into view and he pulls you into him, hands cradling your face gently and by the time he pulls away, you feel like your feet are no longer on the ground. The two of you stand there on the sidewalk, foreheads resting against each other’s and you wish you could just stay like this instead of going to your parents house. But then the black car you called pulls up to the curb, giving a short honk and you pull away.

“Ready?” Tae asks with a gentle smile.

You take a deep breath. “Does it matter?” But you return the smile anyway because even though you’re dreading tonight, you’re excited for tomorrow when this is all over and you can move on.

“Okay, I take back everything I said about your apartment being a palace. This is a palace.”

“Oh, shut up,” you growl as you pull Tae down the driveway and toward your parents’ estate. Your heart hammers harder in your chest with every step closer to the front doors.

It’ll be okay.

Well, no actually it won’t be okay. Or maybe your parents will surprise you. Maybe the fact that he does come from money will make it easier for them to accept him. Maybe the initial shock will give you enough time to explain everything. Maybe it’ll work out. You’re their daughter after all. They’d want you to be happy, right?

…right?

You stand frozen now on the porch, Tae’s arm still tightly in your grasp. Your fingers ache but you can’t seem to loosen your grip. In fact, you clutch impossibly tighter to him until his bones are surely threatening to snap under the pressure.

“Princess.”

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure you’re ready to do this?”

You clench your teeth, grinding your molars together as you stare down at the door knob. Normally you have the driver come in through the front gates which alerts a maid that you are on your way, but this time you had the car drop the two of you off outside the gate and then used the separate locked entrance into the place so no one would be here to welcome you when you arrived. But that’s what you need. Time to collect yourself. Which may take a while since your insides feel like a jumbled mess of smashed bits. Pieces that will never be able to be brought back together. Maybe you’ll never be ready to do this. But you have to.

You let go of Tae’s wrist then slip your ring off your finger to expose the double bands. Right now they’re verging on indigo and you turn around to face Tae. While his expression is calm, you can still see a faint indent between his eyes. The ring on his own finger keeps you from seeing the color representing your emotions but you can bet his tattoo is darker than yours. You drop your ring into a hedge beside the porch and take a deep breath. No hiding now.

“Let’s do this,” you say softly then reach for the doorknob and in one swift motion, twist it and push it open.

You hear Tae swear under his breath when the two of you step inside and you turn around to find him looking around with wide eyes. It’s hard not to smile even with the big chunk of ice sitting in the pit of your stomach.

“Oh.”

You jump at the sudden noise and spin to find your mother standing in the doorway to the parlor.

“Honey, I didn’t hear you come in. Didn’t the maid meet you at the door?” she asks.

You shift nervously when her eyes pan over to Tae. “Uh, no sorry, Mom, we thought we’d, um, surprise you.” Then you step closer to Tae, a sudden desire to protect him coming over you and you link your arm with his. “Mom, this is Taehyung. He’s my, um…”

Your mother’s eyes fall to your hand where it rests on his arm, the double bands a sharp peacock blue against your skin and to your surprise, she lights up, a smile spreading across her lips before she clasps her own hands together.

“Welcome!” she says and rushes forward, “It is so nice to meet you, Taehyung.” Then she grasps his own palm in hers. “Oh, I just can’t wait to hear all about your meeting.”

“Uh, thanks, it’s nice to meet you too,” Tae says, his eyes darting to yours and you shrug. Your mom’s reaction was so unexpected, you don’t even know what to feel.

“Well, come on, let’s go into the parlor and I’ll make us some drinks,” your mother says as she pulls him out of your grasp and toward the doorway. “You seem like a bourbon type of man. My husband says you can always tell a good man by the type of liquor he drinks and you seem like the bourbon type, am I right?”

“Uh, sure, yeah, bourbon’s okay I think,” Tae says then looks over his shoulder helplessly at you before disappearing into the parlor.

You stand there, the amused smile stuck on your face even as your mind is reeling. What’s going on? Why is she so enthusiastic? Does she not know who this boy is? Your smile falls. Of course. That has to be it. Sure, your father recognized him at the network brunch but only from these events in the past. Your mother has never gone to one before so how would she know who Kim Taehyung is?

For a split second you thought that something miraculous had happened. You imagined a life with both Tae and your parents in it. Just for a second you imagined coming to Friday night dinners together. Visiting on holidays, possibly bringing kids someday. Maybe even having them be proud of you for pursuing whatever dream you decide to follow. But that shatters as quickly as it appears. Your father—as most Fridays—is working late at the office and it’s only a matter of time before he comes home. No, tonight is a ticking time bomb, counting down from an unknown number.

Taehyung shifts nervously beside you where the two of you sit on one of the couches in the parlor. Your mother is sitting on the couch on the other side of the coffee table, talking excitedly about whatever recent trip her and your father went on. It’s hard to focus when you’re stiff as a statue beside him, holding your glass so tightly he’s surprised the thing hasn’t shattered yet.

If only he could reassure you somehow. But what would he even say? It’ll be alright? It won’t be so bad? He knows both of those statements are lies. After all, your mother is only acting this way because she doesn’t know who Kim Taehyung is. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe he shouldn’t have come. Maybe it would have been better if you’d just come by yourself and broken the news gently.

Taehyung’s chest tightens when you suddenly lean into him and he reflexively puts his arm around your shoulder, clutching onto you tightly.

No, this is where he should be. You need him now more than ever.

You look at Taehyung, your eyes so filled with uneasiness, your mouth set in a solemn line. How can I fix this? He wishes you could read each other’s minds. His fingers wrap around yours where they clutch onto your glass and his thumb rubs over your knuckles.

Your mother lets out a sigh. “It’s so refreshing to see two young people in love,” she says. “You seem very happy.”

Taehyung looks at you again and gently pries one of your hands off your glass so he can bring it up to his lips. “I am,” he says and presses a kiss to your fingers. You smile and your body begins to relax against his.

“I am too, Mom,” you finally say. “Really really happy.” Then you lick your lips nervously and sit back up again. Here we go. “Mom, I have to tell you something before—”

“What’s this?”

All three of you jump to attention at the sound of your father’s voice and both you and Taehyung attempt to step in front of the other, causing you to stumble forward. The man didn’t seem very intimidating at Taehyung’s last encounter with him, but then again he had his boys backing him up. Not to mention he was thinking that would be the last time he’d ever see you again and he had nothing to lose by standing up to the guy. Now though, he’s here in the man’s home, your father’s eyes trained so intensely on him he can almost feel himself shrinking.

“Hi Daddy,” you say straightening your skirt quickly. “Uh, this is—”

“What is this washout doing here?” your father bites. His words hacking through Taehyung like a dull blade.

“Now Dear, Taehyung is a very nice boy and he loves our daughter,” your mother says putting a hand on his arm.

He pulls out of her grip and steps closer. Somehow Taehyung’s fingers have latched onto your wrist and pulled you behind him protectively as if the man’s anger has manifested into a charging beast and it’s headed straight for you. Even in this moment, the need to protect you is stronger than the paralyzing fear he feels as your father stands so close to him, staring him down.

“You,” he seethes only inches from Taehyung’s face, “made your choice and I will not have you dragging my daughter down to your miserable level.”

Taehyung licks his lips, his mind racing to pull together a coherent response even as the words cut him deep enough to make him feel like he’s bleeding out. But then before he can stop you, you step out from behind him again.

“And I made my choice, Daddy.” You look so small standing between them.

Your father’s eyes zero in on his new target, breaking the spell that had Taehyung frozen in place and suddenly he’s ready to take whatever bullet the man is about to send your way.

He lets out a loud, incredulous laugh. “And what choice is that?”

Instead of answering him right away, you turn your head and meet Taehyung’s stare. He can feel his heart seize in his chest. You look so sad. “I need you to leave for a minute,” you whisper.

Taehyung’s eyes grow wide and he can feel the panic wash over him suddenly. No no no no. He shakes his head in a silent plea but you look adamant and at last he gives in, dipping his chin once before stepping away from you, eyes passing over your mother and holding her own for a split second before he steps out of the parlor and back into the entryway. He stops on the other side of the wall and sinks to the floor, letting his head fall back against it.

He hears you take a deep breath before letting the words ride out on the exhale. “I’m not going to be taking over the business.”

“What do you mean, Honey?” your mother asks. She was inching her way toward the perimeter of the room when Taehyung passed her on his way out, surely trying to distance herself from the disaster, and with her being just on the other side of the wall, Taehyung can hear the way her voice shakes.

“I mean, I’ve decided to follow my dream instead. I want to become a designer.”

Taehyung scrambles to his feet again, eyes drilling into the plaster as if he could see through it if he tried hard enough. The room is silent and even from where he stands, he can feel the tension in the air, expanding and growing tighter until at last it snaps.

“You…stupid child,” your father growls.

Taehyung sucks in a sharp breath, spine going rigid.

“Dear,” your mother whispers.

“A designer? What absolute garbage is this?”

“I’ve wanted to do it ever since I was young,” you say. “Since before I started pursuing your business. It’s what I’ve always loved.”

Your father goes on, voice growing louder to overshadow your own, “Are you kidding me? Is this some sort of sick joke?”

“Dear, please stay calm,” your mother pleads, her voice so quiet she sounds like she’s miles away.

“I built this life for you! I work day in and day out for you to have these opportunities! I set up meetings around your schedule! I built connections for you! Opportunities I was never given! And you want to throw that all away so you can doodle on a notepad? And with that failure by your side?”

Taehyung braces his arms against the wall, grinding his forehead into the edge of the doorframe as he listens.

“He’s my soulmate, Daddy,” you say. The weakness in your voice has a searing heat tearing through Taehyung’s chest and he squeezes his eyes shut, gritting his teeth against the pain.

“I don’t care if he’s your soulmate,” the man snarls. “He’s done this to you! Made you completely lose your mind! He’s turned my daughter into the very thing we detest in this family!”

Taehyung lets out a shaky breath, his fists clenching so hard the skin beneath his nails threatens to give. With a jerky movement, he rips his ring off and looks down with blurred vision at the bold, black bands encircling his finger.

This is all his fault. This whole night. The way your dad is yelling at you, tearing you apart while he’s out here, shielded from the flying shrapnel. It’s all because of him. You would have had a good life if he hadn’t busted into it. Would have gone on to be successful. The pride and joy of your parents. Would have lived happily, comfortably, independently. Would have had it all if not for him.

Just leave, Tae. Just disappear. Give her father time to forgive her because you know he will. She’ll hurt at first but it’ll be better this way. Let her live her life. Stop trying to rip everything away from her.

Taehyung pushes off the wall, reddened eyes fixed on the front door, heart hammering so loud it almost drowns out the absolute war raging on in the parlor. Almost. It would if not for the sheer volume of that man’s voice.

“That boy will never be a part of this family!”

Taehyung holds his breath, sight trained on the door handle as he waits for your response. And then it comes, in the most calm, cutting voice he’s ever heard.

“You’re right, Daddy,” you say. “He won’t be. Because I won’t be either.”

His eyes shift to his double bands again and he swears his brain is playing tricks on him. How else could he make sense of the sight before him? Of his ebony colored rings changing rapidly, growing lighter with each second, passing through every shade of purple and blue before finally settling on a light sea foam green. Only once the shifting has stopped does Taehyung finally look up, and when he does, he sees you standing in the doorway, mere feet from him. Your mouth lifts into a tired smile as you close the gap, taking his hand in your own and entwining your fingers together. The motion sends a soothing warmth up his arm, flowing like a summer wind through his veins, calming his erratic heart and causing the storm raging in his mind to cease. Now he lifts your clasped hands and looks at your own ring to find that the color has lightened as well to match his. He’s never felt so calm.

“How did you do that?” Taehyung utters under his breath.

You just smile wider in return, your thumb rubbing circles into his skin. “Let’s go home,” is all you say and then you lead him out the door and away from this house he’s pretty sure he’ll never step foot in again.

The ride back to your apartment had been a blur, the weight of what had just happened slowly beginning to settle over you again and by the time you reached your destination, you felt like you were suffocating under the pressure.

You’d pulled Tae after you into the elevator, not saying anything on the ride up and then tugging him into your place once you reached the top. You didn’t slow, stumbling toward your bedroom, kicking out of your shoes and then pulling your turtle neck and skirt off, letting them stay where they landed and Taehyung had looked at you confusedly as you started unbuttoning his shirt. But he let you tug it off of him and drop it at the foot of your bed too before wrapping your arms around his waist and falling down onto the mattress with him. You’d pulled your comforter up over your heads and at first he was still too confused as to what your intentions were. Not sure why you’d bared yourself and him halfway but then you crumpled into him, burying your face in his chest and began to cry. His arms immediately came up to cradle you to him, his skin smooth against yours, the contact bringing a comfort of its own that you so desperately needed.

You don’t know how long you cried but by the time the tears stopped, you felt like you were floating, your head so foggy and thick. The only thing tethering you to this life was Taehyung’s skin against your own and the feel of his heart beating beneath your palm.

Now you curl into him, let his arms enshroud you, keep you together because even though the tears have finished falling, you still feel like you’re breaking apart. Still feel like the world is disintegrating. And maybe it is. At least your world. Your old life. It needed to though, right? This was the only way to move on. The only option you were given anyway.

You sniff and Tae tightens his grip in response. His skin is warm against your own, comforting in its golden glow. A ray of sunshine peeking through your clouded thoughts. You haven’t spoken a word since the two of you left your parents’ house but every so often as the two of you have laid here beneath your blankets, Tae has whispered his love for you into your hair, punctuating his sentences with gentle kisses to your forehead, your cheeks, your nose. He places a small kiss to your lips then the doorbell rings.

Tae breaks the kiss first and you both wait in silence. A few seconds later, it sounds again, faintly from the other end of your apartment and you exhale heavily. “I’ll be right back,” you say, your voice hoarse from disuse and then, much to Tae’s dismay, you slip out from beneath the covers, grabbing your robe as you make your way out of the bedroom and back toward the elevator.

The intercom button beside it glows a soft white, signaling a call from the lobby. You press it and lean in. “Yeah, I’m here,” you say and wait for a response.

“Honey?”

“Mom?”

“Honey, can I please come up and talk to you?”

Your stomach does a flip. What is she doing here? You’re shocked into silence for several seconds before pressing the button down again. “Uh, yeah, sure,” you crack then quickly go and grab your clothes back off the floor, tugging them on and back in place just in time for the elevator to ding, the doors to open and your mother to step out.

You stand there in silence, watching as her eyes sweep the large room—a habit of hers you’ve grown very used to—before they finally land on you. Her hands grip the handles of her bag in front of her as if she doesn’t know what to do now that she’s standing before you.

“Does Daddy know you’re here?” you ask.

Your mother shakes her head, her lips pursed in a tight line. “After you left, he locked himself in his study and he hasn’t come back out. I figure he’ll stay in there for the rest of the night.”

You wrap your arms around your middle, feeling yourself shrinking inward and wishing you could go back to your room where Tae is, soft and warm and inviting. “Mom, I’m so sorry about tonight.”

“Well, it did come as a shock,” she says.

“I know. It was probably bad timing, especially with the Parks having just gone through all this with Jennie.”

Your mother scoffs causing you to lift your head again to look at her. “Oh believe me, this is nothing like the Parks.”

You furrow your brow. “What do you mean?”

With a sigh, your mother shifts on her feet, clutching her purse tighter in front of her. “Honey, I need you to understand something. As members of a higher class, we are held to higher standards.” You lower your eyes again, feeling the guilt constricting your lungs. “And of course, living in this society for as long as I have, it’s hard not to get caught up in the politics of it all. This is the path I was given. A life of dinner parties and gossip and business deals. And sometimes I forget that that’s my path, not yours.”

You tear your eyes from the tiles again to look at her.

“It’s easy to get caught up in the drama of another family’s affairs,” she continues. “But I never should have said the things I did about Jennie. I never should have made you feel like you couldn’t come to me. And that you couldn’t follow the path you’re meant to go down even if it’s not the same as the one your father and I had for you.”

“But Daddy seemed so upset,” you utter.

Your mother nods sadly. “You have to understand, Honey, that your father is a very stubborn man. The fact that he was training you to take over his business while not even knowing if this was what you were supposed to do has always been a struggle for him. He’s a lot less accepting of fate than I am,” she explains. “Which is why I’m here.”

She steps toward you now, reaching out with one hand to take hold of one of your own and smiles gently. “Did I ever tell you I wanted to be a photographer?”

Your eyes widen at this news and you shake your head.

“Before I met your father, I was set on traveling around the world, photographing people and places in such a light that no one had seen before. I developed my own style, even won some awards and had my photographs in magazines. When I met your father, I gave it all up to become a homemaker. And let me tell you, I don’t regret a single choice I made. Photography was a part of my childhood, a part of who I was before, but becoming your father’s wife and your mother was where I found myself. I could have continued to pursue it and perhaps I would have still found happiness.” Then she lifts her hand to place her palm against your cheek. “But I’ve been happiest in this life with you and your father. And the only thing that could make me happier is seeing my daughter happy.”

Tears prickle at the corners of your eyes and you blink hard, clamping down on your bottom lip to keep it from quivering. “Mom,” you crack.

“Your father will come around eventually,” she says. “But you need to follow your happiness, not his. And if that’s being with Taehyung and becoming a designer, then you follow that path, Sweetie.”

You can only nod vigorously, eyes so blurred you can no longer make out the details of her face. Now she pulls her hand back and opens her bag. “For the record, I’ve known you’ve loved fashion for a long time.” You wipe your hands over your eyes to clear them and suddenly her knowing smile comes back into focus and you look down to see what she pulled out of her bag. A pamphlet and an envelope. You take both carefully.

“How did you know?” you whisper as you trail your finger down the edge of the pamphlet.The words ESMOD Seoul are printed across the top.

“You used to keep yourself preoccupied during your father’s business dinners by drawing on your napkin,” she says.

You can’t help but smile at the memories. You hated going to those dinners when you were little. Your mom would always slip you a pen and you’d spend the hours of speeches and toasts and mingling just drawing outfits. Dresses you’d rather be wearing than whatever stiff one you’d been put in to come to the dinner. You always hated leaving your drawings behind to be thrown out by the restaurant staff but you knew there was no point in trying to take them home with you. As you got older, you realized how childish it is to doodle on napkins and started paying more attention to what was going on around you. Your father was so proud of you when you started showing more of an interest in his work.

“I remember the way you used to draw on those napkins at company dinners. I always hoped to save them but they’d be cleared away before I could take them.”

Now you look to the envelope, opening it with trembling fingers and pulling out a check with your name on the first line. Your eyes widen when you see the amount.

“What is this?” you ask looking up at your mother again.

Now it’s her eyes that begin to glass over and she smiles. “You’re very good, Honey,” your mom says. “I’ve been putting money away for you for a while. Just a little something to help get you started.”

“A little?” you screech, still gaping at the large number on the check.

Your mom’s smile widens. “You deserve to pursue your dream and be happy with Taehyung,” she says.

Before you can stop yourself, you throw your arms around her and bury your face into her neck. Finally letting go of your resolve, tears spill from your eyes and you begin to tremble. Your mother’s arms come up to wrap around your waist and though she’s smaller than you, she somehow manages to hold you, cradle you as if you’re still so small. Still her little girl.

“Thank you, Mom,” you whisper, your words muffled by the neck of her sweater. She’s always worn the same perfume, even when you were little and now you breathe her in. You were so sure earlier that you’d never get to again.

When you pull away at last, you can see tears staining her cheeks and she quickly wipes them away. “Your father will come around,” she says once she’s cleared her throat and regained her composure. “Just give him some time. And maybe a bit more before he and Taehyung can be in the same room again.”

You smile weakly and hold the pamphlet and check to your chest. “Right.”

“And let's keep getting together on Friday nights. You pick the restaurant, okay?”

“Yeah, sounds good,” you say with a nod.

Your mom studies you for a second longer before turning and stepping back into the elevator. When she turns around again, she tilts her head a bit, eyes focusing on your neck just below your jaw and just above the collar of your turtleneck. “Is that a hickey?”

Quickly, you slap your hand over the area, a deep blush warming your cheeks as you mentally curse yourself for not checking to make sure everything was still covered. Your mom shakes her head, corners of her mouth lifting upward just barely as if she’s trying and failing to conceal a smile and she reaches out to press the button to close the doors.

“See you next week, Honey,” she says.

“Bye Mom,” you crack, keeping one hand on your neck and using the one still clutching the papers to wave goodbye.

Once the doors close, you heave a heavy sigh and let both hands drop. Did that all really just happen? The pamphlet and check in your grip confirms it, even though now that she’s gone, you’re having a very hard time believing your mother was really just standing in front of you. Your heart pounds, your hands shake and your throat begins to close up again because, honestly, you have no idea what to feel right now. Excitement and fear for the future, heartbreak for the past. It’s all just too much and you find yourself sinking to your knees right there in front of the elevator.

“Princess?”

You don’t lift your head, even when you feel a pair of arms wrap around your shoulders, a pair of lips kiss your cheek, a voice whisper soothingly in your ear that everything is okay because he’s here now.

“Who was that?” he asks once you’ve calmed a bit.

“My mom,” you reply. Your voice is still so weak with disbelief. “She came to give me these.”

“A pamphlet?”

“For a design school,” you say then hold up the check. “And this.”

“Holy crap,” Tae utters when he sees the amount. “Looks like you have everything to get things going.” Then he pulls you to your feet, his eyes sparkling excitedly. “No time like the present, right?”

Suddenly you feel exhausted. “Tae, it’s almost one o’clock.”

“In the morning then,” he says. “Let’s get a good night’s sleep then start livin’ that dream.”

You can only smile as his own widens and you let him tug you back toward the bedroom.

The rain pours down in buckets, pelting the top of your black umbrella as you make your way down the sidewalk. You’ve always loved the rain. You love how the world is washed in a sudden filter of monochrome. The streets, the buildings, the sky, the people. Everything is black and white and gray and the same. No one is upper class or middle class or lower class. No one is better than anyone else. Everyone is the same.

The same until you turn off the sidewalk and into one of the many nicer apartment buildings lining this street. One look at the lobby and you’re plunged back into the life you’ve always known. The one you’re growing further away from every day.

With a quick shake of your umbrella, you close it, still fussing with the strap when the elevator dings and the doors open. You look up to meet a familiar pair of arrogant eyes. You’d sent a text earlier asking him to meet you in the lobby and in all honesty, you’re kind of surprised he actually decided to show up.

“Well well well,” Seokjin purrs as he saunters closer to you. “If it isn’t Mrs. Drummer Boy formerly known as the Princess of the Upper East Side. Where’s your boy toy? I thought the two of you were attached at the hip.”

“He’s getting ready for his set tonight,” you say carefully. “How are you doing, Seokjin?”

His eyes sparkle at your obvious attempt of trying to ignore his jab. “Living the good life. And,” his taunting smile widens, “how about you?”

You study him for a moment. The way he stands, the way he holds his head up just a bit more than you do, as if he’s now so much better than you with this new dream you’re following. Let him feel superior. You know the truth.

“Tae told me about you coming to visit him at one of his shows a while back,” you say and immediately you see him tense up.

Seokjin clears his throat and reaches up to adjust the scarf around his neck. “There’s a reason we’re the ones the rest of the world aspire to be,” he says. “There’s a reason this system is in place. We’re supposed to be doing our part to keep it upright.” Then he narrows his eyes at you. “And you and Jennie have an obligation just like the rest of us.”

You smile gently. “Everything happens the way it’s supposed to, Seokjin,” you say. “If our system is so fragile, maybe that’s a good indication that it wasn’t meant to be there in the first place. And besides, I’ve known you for a long time. You couldn’t care less about any of that.”

The boy shifts on his feet, eyes sweeping sideways to avoid making contact with yours. Still you go on.

“You’re so used to this game you and Jennie have been playing for so long and now that it’s over you don’t know what to do with yourself. I think you don’t like that you have no real control over your life. And that you have no control over who Jennie ends up with.”

“You don’t know anything,” he spits.

“I know you love her, Seokjin,” you say. “And I know the fact that you can’t have her is eating you up.”

He scoffs and adjusts his scarf again. “It wouldn’t be so bad if she wasn’t with such a lemon.” He tugs too hard on the scarf causing it to loosen a bit. “I thought she had more self-respect than that.”

“And I thought you had more self-respect than this,” you cut in. “I’ve never met another person as full of themselves as you are. So full of yourself you don’t even care that Jennie is genuinely happy with Hoseok. I’ve never seen her like this, Seokjin. I’d think if you really did love her, you’d want her to be happy. But maybe you care more about your own happiness.” You shake your head. “I shouldn’t be surprised.” Then you turn away, lifting the umbrella above your head again as you step back out into the rain.

“Wait.”

You face him again, seeing an expression that you’ve never seen before. Deep lines etch into his forehead, his brows pull together and his jaw is set in a hard line, as if he’s grinding his teeth together. He makes his way across the lobby, eyes never leaving the tiles until he’s at last standing right in front of you. Only then does he lift his head. He looks distraught. An absolute first. “Is she really happy?” he asks you quietly.

Your face softens. You can’t help feeling sympathetic for the boy. Someone who’s grown up the way both of you have, with a set of parents—and especially a father—that has kept him very firmly on the path they want him to be on. He’s been so curated to get what he wants, you can only hope that fate is more gentle with him. Though maybe the very thing he needs is a wake up call. One that you can only imagine would have an even more devastating affect on his family than yours did.

You almost wish Jennie was his soulmate. But only for a split second until you remember how laid back she seemed when you had dinner with her a while back. So calm, relieved almost, as if a huge weight had been lifted off her shoulders and she could finally breathe. You smile again at the memory of the bright red bands on her ring finger.

“She is,” you finally say. “Happier than I’ve ever seen her before.”

Seokjin gives a curt nod, once again averting his eyes. “Then…I’m happy for her.”

You know that’s a lie but at least he’s trying to understand. Perhaps this is the beginning of a change in him. Then again, old habits die hard. Either way, you nod in return before once again, turning your back to him and making your way out into the rain.

Though the sky is gray and dark, though the people on the sidewalk around you are scurrying to get out of it, you can’t help but feel thankful for the rain. The symbolism seems fitting. Fitting enough that you close your umbrella back up and turn your face to the sky, letting the droplets fall on your skin, making everything feel new. New possibilities, new adventures, a new identity, a new start. No longer the Princess of the Upper Ease Side but a soon to be student at one of the best fashion design schools in the country, you start walking again, weaving your way through the current toward the fashion district, the need to sketch making your fingers tingle and your heart swell with inspiration.

Tae’s grip on the lapels of his jacket tightens as he pulls you impossibly close so he can kiss you.

“This looks good on you,” he says. “You should wear it all the time.”

You smile against his mouth. “But you look so good in it too,” you say.

“Then maybe we need to get you one of your own.”

“Deal.”

Tae chuckles against you. You want to stay here in this backstage hallway kissing him forever, want to feel smell his cologne and tell him you love him over and over but of course, good things must come to an end so others can start, right?

“Hey man, we gotta go on in a couple minutes.”

You break the kiss first, Tae obviously reluctant to with the way he still holds tightly onto the collar of the jacket, but both of you look up anyway to find Hoseok standing at the end, eyes shining amusedly at the sight before him.

“Or did you forget we have a freaking huge crowd tonight?”

Tae lets out an irritated sigh and Hoseok just laughs before disappearing back around the corner again. You’re about to suggest that you go and find Jennie but your soulmate doesn’t let you get a word in before crushing his lips to yours again.

“Tae,” you giggle against him. “Don’t you think you should get going?”

“Not yet,” he says then kisses you again. “My princess looks too good in my jacket to let her leave.”

“Should I take it off then?”

Tae pulls away, eyes serious. “Don’t you dare.”

You laugh again causing his face to soften. His mouth to stretch into a smile and he brings a hand up to cup your cheek as his eyes stare into yours. “Are you happy?” he asks you.

You press your forehead against his. “So happy,” you say. So so happy.

“Good. No one deserves happiness more than you, Princess.”

“You do,” you say then close the minuscule gap. “You deserve the world.”

“I don’t need it,” he says against your lips. “I have you.”

Kook leans into his mic and begins singing, his steady voice echoing through the place a cappella for two measures before fading to silence. Anticipation hangs heavy in the air just before he trails his hand down the neck of the guitar, cutting the silence short with a hard riff as Tae joins in on the drums. The audience goes nuts, suddenly jumping up and down to the music, the blue lights transforming the large crowd into a rippling ocean. You stand at the front of it beside Jennie, eyes fixed on Tae as he leans toward the mic. And then suddenly, his smooth, deep voice flows out of the speakers.

At first sight, I could recognize you

As if we were calling for each other

The DNA in my blood vessels tell me

That it’s you I was looking all over for

Maybe it’s the lyrics, maybe it’s the fact that he’s singing them directly to you as he drums, head tilted back, eyes hooded and shining, that sends a surge of electricity through your veins. An exciting warmth that branches out from your chest and down your arms and legs until your whole body is buzzing. A heat that causes you to shrug out of his jacket, mouth stretched wide in a euphoric smile.

You feel Jennie’s hand reach for yours and the two of you dance, holding on tight to each other while letting go of the worries and pressure of the past. Basking in your freedom.

You let the crowd move you, let the music move you, let the energy and the sound of the boy you love doing what he loves on the stage move you until you feel nothing but absolute joy. A joy you never thought you’d feel. A joy that makes you excited for the future. A future where you get to follow your dreams, follow your passions and have Tae by your side to encourage you through it. Of course, there will be hard times. The world can be cruel, especially to someone that has fallen so far by society’s standards. Maybe it’ll take a while before things go back to normal. Maybe things will never be perfect. Maybe you’ll never fully mend your relationship with your father, but you know one thing is for certain…

With a quick glance at your hand, you’re dazzled by the bold ruby color encircling your finger and your heart swells because you know that not only are you the cause of it but that Tae’s ring is the exact same color. If there’s anything in this world that you’ve ever been absolutely sure of, it’s how truly happy you are in this moment.

Tag List: @copenhagenspirit @taeandpuppies @melonkooky @eaonya @queenkenderella @im-a-percy @psychdreamwolf @mrsworldwidebeauty @hhhhwww7

#bts #bts fanfic #btswriterscollective #bangtanarmynet #btsboulangerie #networkbangtan #kwritersworldnet #btsguild #bts moodboard #bts fanfiction #bts soulmate au #bts taehyung #bts v #bts x reader #bts college au #kim taehyung #taehyung one shot #taehyung fanfic #bts one shot #soumate au #taehyung soulmate au #kpop #kpop fanfic #bts aesthetic #taehyung moodboard #college au #bts romance #garage band au

[candaceparkers]

Maitane López: «We are more tactical and therefore we play a very different football»

Our first 'C' in this tremendous trident is Maitane López Millán or also known as “the smile of the Liga Iberdrola” or “Mai”.

She says that it is something natural but unconsciously gives off that 'good vibes' energy that makes the interviewer (in my case) feel like being with a friend drinking something.

And before you start it is important that you understand that ...

For this and subsequent occasions, I have decided that my interviews can be taken as a souvenir home. For Maitane I drew half a soccer field on an A4 sheet and put 11 representative photographs of the player in question, symbolizing the number of components of a team. Her name also appeared in large print, a drawing of a book (later you will understand why), an orange and a star. Once the rules of the game have been explained, I give it to her and when she sees it, she smiles and immediately says, "Very original, really." And with an Aquarius in each hand, Mai begins uncovering the first photograph and ...

Photograph 1 (Maitane as a child) M: Oh! (She laughs). My beginnings, right? I started with 4 or 5 years, all my paternal family was related to football my father, José Ignacio López Rekarte, my uncles, Luis María and Aitor López Rekarte and my grandfather, Luis López. Until one day I came home and told my mother to sign me up. And of course, my mother didn't know anything about women's football in Mallorca because we had just moved from Murcia, and she decided on the Son Cotoner club, which was later renamed Sporting Ciutat de Palma. (Laughs) This anecdote is very funny because with 4-5 years I went to train, and my poor mother told me "don't be sad if they don't pick you", and on the first day, I went up two categories!

ESF: Did you play with boys? M: Yes, until there was a moment that another girl came who became my best friend. At age 12 I was beginning to notice inequalities between men and women because we are biologically different. But I never had problems with any teammates, they were more screams from the stands than anything else. In fact, I keep in touch with some of them.

Photograph 2 (Maitane with her uncle, Luis María López Rekarte) M: My uncle ... has always been my role model (snorts). I still remember this picture, I can see the smile on my face ... It was radiant. Imagine, thanks to him I could have access to my idols, that is, I was next to Kovacevic, Nihat, Xabi Alonso etc.

Really, I had devotion to him, when he came to play against Mallorca, I brought all my friends and they freaked out, for me he was my idol and he was the one who pushed me to continue.

ESF: Is your uncle going to see you at the matches? M: Yes, and my whole family when we play in Zubieta.

Photograph 3 (In his second football team: UD Collerense) M: Colle ... I was in Sporting Ciutat de Palma until the second division and then I went to Collerense for three years and I was a little scared of the reception because they are rivals to death, but nothing, everything was great (smiles). This club has been my trampoline, a super humble team with very few resources that gave me the opportunity to play in the first division and over at home. I think it is worth considering that the club has been 5 years in the first division (seasons 2011-2016). I take great friendships, in fact the day after tomorrow I will stay with them. But for me Sporting is special because I entered with 4 and left at 15-16 years of age there.

Photograph 4 (Studies) M: I am currently finishing the Primary Education career with a mention in Therapeutic Pedagogy, now I am doing an internship at a Special Education center in Cheste. I've searched for it near Bunyol to get everything on time. The truth is that I've been trying to get my degree for 7 years (she laughs). No, I have not suspended any exams, the thing is that because of football I could not do the practices. And now yes, I have TFG, practices and memory, and that's it.

ESF: And that's it? M: Yes!!! (Smile from ear to ear). I've been doing this for 7 years, but it seems normal, but it's good to combine studies and be a professional football player. Although I have always been clear that I wanted to do both for what could happen, I also believe that when I leave this sport, I would like to dedicate myself to what I have studied, since it has nothing to do with football.

Photograph 5 (First day in the east) M: Incredible... Levante UD has given me everything, Colle was the springboard, but in this club I have evolved both personally and professionally. In addition, I had never lived alone outside home but this team welcomes you and takes care of you so much that I adapted very quickly. And it’s that (laughs) I'm still hallucinating that they iron our clothes and leave us folded in the locker room, really, I’m grateful for everything and I feel immensely happy in Levante UD.

Photograph 6 (Selection) M: I did freak out there, in fact I was with my partner on a off weekend in Salamanca and I was in a bad mood, Jorge called me and asked me how I was and I told him that great, and he told me that I was going with the National Team to Prague. It was a dream for me, to train with them, some of them were already friends ... Now they are in the United States and I wish them the best of luck. 

Photograph 7 (Maitane smile) ESF: A lot of people say you're always smiling ... M: (laughs) Yeah, it's true ... (laughs again) Obviously I don't realize it and although it sounds like a cliche I think you have a better life smiling than crying. Also in the team along with Rocío we are the ones who pull pranks... and Lucia and ... Eva (laughs). And nothing, you just have to enjoy everything you do.

Photograph 8 (Eva Navarro, Ona Batlle and Maitane) M: My gorritis !!! They are Eva Navarro and Ona Batlle, they are not my friends, they are like my daughters (laughs). Although Ona is not so much now because she has already grown but Eva is... And I love having them on my team and having met them, it is one of the most beautiful things that football gives you and I am very grateful for it. I love them a lot.

Photograph 9 (Maitane playing the guitar) M: It's one of the things that disinhibits me from football ... I am very much the kind of person who goes with a book to read sitting alone in the street (stares at me and smiles) don’t think it’s weird if you see me one day out there or on the beach giving a walk… In addition, whenever I am a little sad, I feel immense desire to play the guitar and I think… (raises her index finger) “What's wrong with you? You have been playing for half an hour, two hours… ” (Laughs) It is true that my 'gorritis' suffer a lot, although many times it is them who ask me for songs, and we start singing and dancing all three. We have a lot of videos being dumb together (laughs).

ESF: Favorite singer? M: Ainoa Buitrago! (she doesn't doubt a minute)

Photograph 10 (Stadium) M: From the final of the U19 European we lost, I think that defeat has helped me a lot to mature as a footballer. A few years later, you value being a starter in a final. In addition, we faced the Netherlands with some very good players, moreover, the one that scored a goal was the now Arsenal striker and an undisputed starter of the Dutch national team, Vivienne Mediema. And I think about it and I still hallucinate having played that final.

Photograph 11 (The British Ladies Football Club team) ESF: Do they sound like you? M: (Stares) Mmmm… no.

ESF: Do not worry, it is a very old photograph and almost nothing differs. They are the British Ladies Football Club, the components of the first women's soccer team on March 23, 1895 in England. What do you think? M: In the end I think they were the first to open the doors. It is true that now we are being given more visibility and I think we are collecting the reward of all the work not only ours, but since that March 23, 1895. And in the end, we are so grateful to them that they were the first as to all those who have fought for equality both inside and outside the football field. For example, to me past generations like Sandra Vilanova, Melisa Nicolau etc. All of them have opened the door for us here in Spain in many things.

ESF: What do you think of the collective agreement? M: Every step is important. Everything is improving, now there is a sub-20, sub-15 and before it did not exist, I think it is progressing a lot and faster and faster, although there is still much to improve.

ESF: And about future generations? M: I think we have to keep working so that in the future, girls can get to live football as boys do.

ESF: What do you think of the phrase 'girls don't entertain? M: Well (snorts) it's football and it's another kind of show, you don't have to compare men’s football with women’s football because I've said it before, we're biologically different and therefore, we play differently. We don't have as much speed, aggressiveness as they do… We are more tactical and that is why we play a very different football. That’s it.

Female football star M: The best player in the Liga Iberdrola is ...? (sound of drums) Jennifer Hermoso. And the one that is very good but is not given media hype… Mariona. (She laughs)

Favorite book M: I love reading and this question is always a problem for me but ... ' Contra el viento del norte’ by Daniel Glattauer oe ‘La mecánica del corazón' by Mathias Malzieu.

Food ESF: Star dish, favorite ... M: Well, let's see ... (laughs) If you like to eat well, you have to know how to cook. And I know! I love to eat, really, but for football I have to reduce certain foods. For example, my star dish, which is to suck your fingers is: crusty bread, with a layer of provolone cheese and another of hot foie. (close your eyes) Mmmmmm. Really, great. But this I can only allow once every two months (she smiles) that then you have to go out play.

ESF: Thank you very much Maitane, really, ESF thanks you for your time and your sympathy. M: Thanks to you and ESF that I get along great with many of that media. Goodbye, see you soon (smiles and leaves).

And I hit the pause button. I hope you never forget this interview, take a little piece of ESF home and we smile and closeness. Maitane from ESF we wish you all the luck wherever you go and we will always be grateful for these times you give us. Really, do not lose that illusion and desire to live the life that has led you to achieve so much. And we also want to thank Levante UD Feminine for their willingness.

Interview conducted and written by Cristina Brull. Original photographs by Juanfra Galindo for «They Are Soccer»

#she's so humble i love her 💕💕 #also i love that she said mariona is one of the best players in the league but doesn't get the spotlight :') #also when she said that eva and ona are like her kids :') #maitane lopez #football

[jennifersylvesters]

not so subtle - part five

Pairing: Harrison Osterfield x reader Word Count: 7.2k~ oof Warning: swearing, angst at the end A/N: happy chrimas. it’s criman. merry crisis. merry chrysler. damn i wanted this to come out earlier, but i guess that’s life. i am what people would call, er, swamped. i kept having to push this back because i’ve been busy, but i definitely wanted to get it out before christmas. plz say a prayer for me this holiday season as i work two jobs. just kidding. kinda. hopefully you enjoy! like always, feedback is appreciated/loved aka i want it. please. 

Things were different between you and Harrison now. You were convinced that all these minuscule moments added up and now actually meant something. What happened on Thanksgiving couldn’t have been a fluke. It was a moment.

Naturally you expected Harrison to text or call you. Any form of communication really. But after Thanksgiving nothing came. Despite your eagerness for something to occur, he seemed to be on a completely different wavelength. You told yourself that he wasn’t used to being in relationships, that this was a serious decision he wanted to take slow. Still, you wanted some sort of sign. Send an owl with a note, for fucks sake.

Except a week later, you begun having doubts. While tapping through Instagram stories, your jaw dropped as Harrison featured some random brunette. He was in a club, clearly drunk as he planted a kiss on her cheek. The girl giggled with absolutely no self control as Harrison boisterously cheered about Arsenal winning a game.

He was just having drunk fun. That’s alright. That’s totally fine.

Yet a couple days passed and you still received nothing but radio silence. Your hope was dwindling when you saw Harrison posted a new snap story one night. You quickly clicked on the circle, ignoring the homework scattered on your desk.

The phone screen changed to a video of Harrison lightly snoring with no shirt on. Oof. The screen then panned to a redhead who filmed herself kissing the top of his sleeping head before bursting into a smile. Your gritted your teeth as the next snap was a photo of Harrison sound asleep with heart emojis around his head. It was captioned “look how cute he is” with a heart eyed emoji.

So this was your sign. Reality sunk back in that Harrison was nothing more than a player and that you and Noah definitely misread the signs.

Santa, for this year I’d like a nice, faithful boyfriend. I’d also like to knock out Harrison Osterfield.

With Christmas approaching, you decided to hell with Osterfield. You couldn’t be concerned about a boy who wasn’t even trying to message you. Not that you were checking anymore. No, you needed to follow your original plan of just committing to your studies. And that’s what you did.

Most nights were spent wrapped up in the library or in your room studying, trying to make sure you knew all the material for your upcoming exams. Boys? Unnecessary distractions. Love? It didn’t matter. Did you really need it? No. But did you still want it? Unfortunately. God you felt pathetic.

It was inevitable that you would need to go out eventually, but you avoided it by all means. Why be miserable outside when you could wallow in self pity in the warmth of your apartment? The only time you bothered going out was to buy Christmas presents. While you knew you could order gifts online, you worried about whether the present would arrive before Christmas. No, you needed to brave the stores for this one.  

You headed to a nearby shopping complex on the weekend, trying your best to pick nice yet affordable presents for your family and friends. It wasn’t like you could just ball hard with the measly amount in your bank account. As much as you loved Kimberly, there was no way you could buy her a new KitchenAid mixer like she talked about. You choked when you saw the discounted cost, shaking your head as you briskly walked away. She would just have to settle for a lovely apron instead.

Shuffling around the Target, you knew you neared needing a shopping cart as you attempted to balance multiple items in your arms. Even though you knew better, you still chose to browse the store pretending like your arms weren’t getting sore with the weight of the gifts.

Unable to see in front of you, you collided into someone causing all of your items to spill from your arms. Of course. 

As you scrambled to pick up all your items, the other person quickly apologized and began helping you collect them. Picking up a pack of socks, you looked up to see a familiar face.

It was a boy in your lit course named Steven. Despite being a rather big class, he crossed your mind from time to time. Steven was one of those students who occasionally spoke and surprisingly had something intelligent to add to the conversation. While you didn’t know him well, what you did know was that he was incredibly handsome. It made sense why girls and some guys eyed him; his messy brown hair and crooked grin would make most people swoon.

Steven grabbed a shopping basket nearby, placing the items he grabbed into the basket. You politely thanked him as he handed the shopping bag to you.

“Oh, hey! You’re in my lit class” he noticed before you could walk away. “It’s...It’s Y/N, right?” You nodded, surprised that he remembered you. While you contributed in class from time to time, you only answered when you knew the answer in fear of looking like an idiot. “I’m Steven, by the way.” You nodded your head once more, not wanting to add that you already knew who he was. No way you planned on giving stalker vibes.

“Yeah, I’m just doing Christmas shopping for my family. Kinda struggling with the presents for some of the girls” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. You bit down on your lip as he stretched slightly, causing his shirt to raise and exposing a bit of skin. Lord, please control the thirst.

“Did you want any help?” you offered.

“Oh...Yeah! I mean, if you have time. I don’t wanna bother you or anything” he blushed, shrugging his shoulders in a nonchalant manner.

“No, it’s totally fine. I was just shopping for friends but I’m actually struggling with a couple of gifts for my guy friends.” You omitted how you weren’t sure what to get for a celebrity who had more money in his bank account than you’d probably ever see.

“I can definitely help with that if you want” he suggested. You accepted his offer, and the two of you begun wandering around the store to find the perfect gifts.

The next couple hours was spent scouring the store, helping one another decide what gifts would be best. You laughed at some of his suggestions, especially when he proposed trying on an Elsa dress to see if it was the right size for your cousin. He made you feel relaxed and it felt so easy to joke around with him. Things felt smooth and almost effortless around him. The longer time you spent with him, the more you understood his appeal.

By the time the both of you finished and paid, relief washed over you knowing that all of your Christmas shopping was complete. All you needed to do now was wrap them. Easy enough.

The two of you made your way towards the parking lot, slowing down once he pointed out he would be heading in a different direction than you.

“Hey, listen. This was really solid of you.” He lifted up the bags of goodies and smiled that crooked grin that had people swooning. Ooh. For a second, it got you too. “I probably would’ve messed this whole thing up.”

“It’s really no big deal” you waved off the comment.

“Well, it was to me.” The two of you shared a smile as you rocked back and forth on your heels. The look lingered a little longer than you expected, and you turned away. You didn’t want to be pulled back into another thirst trap. Not today. It wasn’t till he cleared his throat that you turned right back around. Perhaps a little too quickly. Damn it.

“So listen...There’s this white elephant party next Friday that a couple of my friends are throwing. Did you maybe wanna go with me? It’s always really fun, and my friend Toby always does a drunken karaoke performance of Cher - voice and all.” His invitation took you by surprise. You weren’t expecting to get invited to a party, especially seeing the two of you never hung out before now. But how could you say no?

“Yeah, I’d be down for that” you nodded. He smiled that ever popular smile and you felt your heart race. You hadn’t noticed before, but he had the cutest dimples.

“Great. Lemme just give you my number so I can text you the address.”

The two of you exchanged phone numbers, handing each other one another’s phones to speed up the process. As you finished saving your contact information, you heard someone call out your name.

A scowl instantly appeared on your face upon seeing Harrison approaching. Steven noticed as he glanced from you to the Brit.

Harrison raised an eyebrow as he came over, eying the pair of you. “Hey. I thought that was you. Haven’t heard from you in a while” he commented, placing a hand on your arm. Immediately you yanked away. Harrison blinked, pushing his now free hand into his pocket.

“Been busy.” It wasn’t much but it was enough for Harrison to realize that the two of you weren’t on good terms. He sighed, rolling his eyes.

“Ah, yes. So busy. Forgot how you just happen to live life in the fast lane” he sarcastically quipped before shaking his head.

You scowled once more, remembering the videos you saw of him. He had the nerve to act like those weren’t big deals? Not in your house. All you wanted to do was go back to mutually disliking one another. Couldn’t he extend the courtesy and do the same?

“Hi. I’m Steven” your classmate introduced himself to Harrison, extending out a hand.

“Harrison” he responded shaking hands. When they dropped, Steven placed his bags down and threw his arm around your shoulder while Harrison shoved his into his pocket once more.

You weren't really expecting Steven to do that, but the gesture wasn’t unwelcome. So you did your best to relax your shoulders, pretending like your relationship with Steven was more than just acquaintances.

“So how do you and Y/N know one another?” Steven asked leaning closer into you.

“We’re friends.” It was a curt response, causing you to scoff. When had the two of you become friends? If anything, your relationship was one of enemies. Friends? Please.

“Just ‘cause Tom and Emma are dating doesn't mean that we're friends.” The comment visibly irritated Harrison who ran a hand through his hair.

“Is that what you told Noah? Cause even he didn't seem to buy that” he snapped back.

“What does Noah know? He also thought we were d-” you stopped in your tracks, not wanting Harrison to know what Noah thought. The idea would've just make him laugh, suggesting that Noah was totally crazy. Yup, totally crazy.

“Noah thought what?” Harrison asked, clearly vexed about this scenario.

“It's nothing” you dismissed, but he wasn't giving up that easily.

“Noah thought what, Y/N?” he repeated himself.

“It was nothing. Just Noah jumping to conclusions.”

“You and I both know that kid wouldn't say anything without having a strong gut feeling.”

“You don’t know that!”

“Yes, I do! Noah isn’t that type of guy to start any drama” he argued, yanking at his hair once again. He was right, but you didn’t want him to have that satisfaction.

“We don’t know Noah that well.”

“Oh? Who’s th-”

“You know what? Fine. Think that about Noah if you want” Harrison cut Steven off, obviously having no interest in what the other boy planned on asking. Why was he acting like this, ramping up his douchebag attitude with every word? Why did he even bother approaching you in the first place? God, he made you furious. “Are you going to the Christmas party, Y/N?”

“I’ll see you if I see you” you responded coldly, not wanting to deal with Harrison any longer.

“So you’re going” he affirmed. When you didn't respond, he nodded his head. “Good. Should’ve expected it since your best friend’s one of the hosts. Well, I’ll see you there.” Before you could stop him, Harrison pushed Steven off of you. Your classmate stumbled back a bit, and Harrison took this time to quickly peck your cheek before turning on his heels and heading off.

You wiped at your face like a child, wishing he hadn’t done that. Still you couldn’t hide the tinge of pink that lit up on your face.

“What was that dude’s deal?” Steven asked, voice on edge.

“I’m so sorry. I dunno. He’s just my best friend’s boyfriend’s best friend. He just likes giving me a hard time” you explained. Was that all?

“He’s kinda an asshole.” He turned and looked at you before he continued. “No offense.” You didn’t realize your fists clenched upon hearing his insult. Were you getting mad about someone talking shit about Harrison? No, that didn’t seem like you. Of course you and Harrison were enemies. Steven wasn’t wrong. Right?

“Yeah...I guess” you responded, relaxing your hands.

“Hey. Thanks again.” And just like Harrison, he leaned in and kissed you on the cheek causing your face to flush. Oh okay. He grabbed the bags he set down before heading to his car. “See you in lit class” he called over his shoulder.

“See ya” you mumbled to yourself, unsure of what happened.

Harrison seemed to flood your social media feed after that incident. If you looked at Tom’s Instagram story, Harrison was always beside him. When you checked out Emma’s snaps, there was always a glimpse of the dirty blond in the background. He was everywhere. The worst was when he posted photos with different girls, all beautiful and all infatuated with Harrison. Did you expect anything less? In normal circumstances you’d be fuming at how Harrison acted. What kind of narcissistic asshole did that?  

But things had changed. Even though he dominated your feed, it didn’t bother you much. By now Steven managed to creep up and occupy your thoughts and time, pushing Harrison to the side. After your holiday help, he constantly invited you to hang out.

From studying to group hangouts with his friends, you slowly joined Steven’s world. It was as if he brought you to a place you’d never been before. He was kind with you, always asking and praising your opinions. There was an ease to everything about him.

You loved talking with him and felt you could ramble without feeling embarrassed. In turn he trusted you with details about himself. You learned how he was fiercely protective of his younger sister, always intimidating boys who even looked her direction. He told you how he couldn’t stand the taste of kiwis and tomatoes, claiming they were disgusting. Whenever you studied and joked around, he laughed loudly and insisted you were one of the funniest people he ever met.

The more you learned about Steven, the more you wanted to stay a part of his life. It wasn’t just him. Even his friends welcomed you in with open arms. Of course it made sense that a great guy would surround himself with positive and warm friends.

You enjoyed this normalcy of having a regular crush. No worrying about embarrassing him at premieres. No panic about not fitting in due to your status. Simply put, there were no complications. Something about liking a hot guy who had a regular status felt so right.

During the night of the white elephant party, you rushed around the apartment while your roommate and her girlfriend relaxed on the couch.

“Where are you heading off to dressed like that?” Kimberly asked as you snatched up a discarded necklace from the coffee table and put it on.

“I’m dressed normal.” No, you weren’t. You chose your best outfit, something you felt complimented your body well. Content with the necklace choice, you searched for the perfect pair of earrings to complete your overall look.

“You’re dressed very cute. Like overly cute” Kimberly replied, now turning to sit up and watch you. “So where are you going again?”

“I’m going to a white elephant party. Um, Steven invited me.” You hastily scurried to your room to find your favorite hoops, hoping she wouldn’t pry. Of course you knew better.  

“Steven, huh?” Sarah popped her head up from above the couch as well. “Who’s Steven?”

“Just this kid in my lit class” you brushed it off, doing your best to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. You found one hoop and begun searching for its missing pair.

“Just some kid, huh?”

“I mean, he’s cute” you admitted, finding the missing hoop and putting on your earrings.

Sarah and Kimberly said nothing, just sharing smiles with themselves before eying you as you exited your room.

“Stop looking at me like that.” You grabbed the gift you chose for the exchange off the kitchen counter. Hopefully someone would want a half-off hair straightener.

As you entered the living room, Kimberly and Sarah still focused on you.

“So what’s the deal with Steven? You’ve never talked about him before” Kimberly pointed out.

“To be fair, we just recently” - you paused, trying to figure out the right words - “became friends.”

“Ah, okay. Is he a nice kid?”

“Yes, mom. He’s a nice guy” you joked.

“And Harrison?” Sarah questioned.

“What about Osterfield?” you snapped, hands resting on your hips. Just the mention of his name brought you into a foul mood.

“Didn't you guys have that-”

“If Lil Shit wants to play around, I don't care.” The way your voice rose up an octave indicated otherwise. “I'm not gonna be one of his little flings who jumps on his dick whenever he calls.” The two of them exchanged glances. “Not that I would ever be” you added hastily.

“So who cares about his stupid Instagram stories and those really pretty girls? I don't care.” The couple raised their eyebrows in unison.

“I don't!” you insisted. “I'm gonna have a great time without that asshole. In fact, I’m gonna enjoy this party and not even think about Lil Shit. I'm allowed to suck whatever dick I wanna. And you know what? Maybe I will!”

“How very heterosexual of you” Kimberly dryly commented.

“I mean, if that's what your apparently horny heart desires,Y/N, go for it” Sarah shrugged.

“It is” you claimed, convinced that you didn't need Harrison in your life.

Jitters consumed you as your Uber dropped you off at the party. Even though you hung out with his friends, this felt different. It felt like an initiation to prove your worth even though you knew it wasn’t a serious occasion.

Ringing the doorbell, you fidgeted in your clothes. You found yourself second guessing your choices, but there was no turning back now. You could hear music playing throughout the house and it grew louder as someone opened the door.

“Hi. I’m Y/N. Um, Steven invited me?” you nervously introduced yourself to the stranger at the door.

You heard your name being shouted before Steven rushed over to the entrance. “Hey! You made it!” he exclaimed, pulling you in.

He began showing you around the place, introducing you to the friends you hadn’t met along the way. All of them were just as friendly as those you previously met, pulling you in for hugs and acting as if you were an old companion they hadn’t seen in a while.

Slowly you eased into the spirit of the party, finding it almost effortless to have a good time.

It didn’t go unnoticed how Steven kept his arm around your waist the entire night as the two of you stood around. When you were ushered to the couch by one of his friends, he pulled you close by his side.

This familiarity felt so warm and inviting, and you wondered if this was all in your mind or if he felt the same connection. You knew you couldn’t ask at that moment, at least not with the gathering going on. So instead you enjoyed yourself, laughing at the promised yet horrendous Cher performance by the infamous Toby.

After Toby took an elaborate bow, Steven lifted you out of the couch to perform a duet with him. You jokingly groaned, shaking your head. But with everyone cheering you on, you followed his lead to the front where he chose a mystery song claiming it was a classic. As “The Start of Something New” from High School Musical began playing, you burst into laughter. It was a good thing you knew it, playing up the part of an ever so shy Gabriella. Even so, you weren’t prepared for him to take your hand and twirl you around when the two of you sang in unison.

And you realized how fun this was with Steven. There was something about the way he kept holding your hand even after the two of you finished bowing and the way you could feel him watching you. It was simple yet held such significant meaning. At least you hoped it wasn’t just you.

When the party ended, Steven walked you outside where you waited on your ride. The two of you spoke about how finals were going and you laughed as he recalled an amusing event that happened in class a couple days prior.

Your fingers kept bumping into one another and you found yourself wanting him to grab your hand again. But in your mind you wondered: “Am I allowed to want more?” You knew that once you cared too much and it wasn’t reciprocated, you were playing yourself. “Please give me a sign” you prayed as his knuckles gently touched yours.

Steven slowly took your hand in his, intertwining fingers. You looked up at him and the two of you locked eyes. He slowly leaned in towards you, and your eyes fluttered shut at what you knew was coming.

It was a simple kiss, but it was enough to get your heart racing. An attractive boy was actually into you? And actually made a move? It felt like a dream, yet when your eyes opened there was Steven’s green eyes twinkling back at yours.

“I think you’re amazing” he whispered. You heard a car pull up to the curb, but you didn’t want the moment to end. He kissed you once more before finally letting go, allowing you to get in to your Uber.

He wished you a good night, closing the door for you. Once you were a couple blocks away, you realized you had been smiling so wide that your face was sore. So this was happiness? This was what it was like for someone to like you back? Oh, you could get used to that.

This was it. This was what you were waiting for. It wasn’t complicated. There weren’t any heartbreaks involved. It was nothing but pure bliss.

Even with exams around the corner, you obsessed over Steven. The two of you constantly texted one another, allowing you initial plan of being studious to fly out the window. Most days were spent being around him or thinking about him.

You felt bad not inviting him to Tom and Emma’s Christmas party, but he didn’t know about Tom. While you knew Tom wouldn’t mind another friendly face, you weren’t sure how Steven would react. Would he freak out and lose his mind? Or would he spit at Tom and tell him that his Spider-Man sucked? Obviously they were opposite ends of the spectrum reactions, but you didn’t want to deal with the potential chaos. Plus you wanted to keep Steven to yourself for just a bit longer. It was a bit selfish, but you were allowed to be. Right?

Plus one person you knew wouldn’t enjoy seeing Steven’s face.

You hadn’t seen him for a while, which honestly was fine by you. In fact, you hadn’t wanted to see him. After the white elephant party, your totally minor crush from before was long gone. Goodbye old terrible feelings. Hello horny new ones.

That was until the night of Emma and Tom’s party.

You flipped through channels on TV, waiting for Emma to arrive. The plan was for her to pick up and drive you, Kimberly, and Sarah to the party. The doorbell rang prompting you to click off the television before greeting Emma. Your face dropped when you opened the door revealing Harrison on the other side. God fucking damnit.

“Where’s Emma” you questioned, skipping the formalities of greeting him politely. He lost that privilege, especially after the last time you saw him.

“Helping Tom. She asked me to pick you guys up” he explained.

“Are you serious?”

“Yup.” He nodded his head, clearly enjoying the irritated confusion crossing your face. “Looks like I’m your ride. Or your knight in shining armor.”

“More like an idiot who happens to own a car.”

“Eh. Not your best insult.”

“That’s cause I’ve been too busy to perfect my lines.”

“Oh, so that was a line?” his eyebrow quirked up.

“Yeah, a line to have you fuck right off” you instantly responded, afraid he might’ve taken your last quip seriously.

“Aw, you can do better than that, Lil Skunk” he tutted, pretending to be disappointed.

“You don’t deserve my best, Lil Shit.”

“Oh, Harrison’s here” Kimberly piped up from behind you. Glancing back at her room, she called out “Sarah! Harrison’s finally here! Let’s go, babe!”

Why did Kimberly sound so nonchalant about Harrison’s arrival? She should’ve been shocked and outraged by his arrival. Perhaps not outraged but at least a little surprised. “You knew Osterfield was coming to pick us up instead of Ems?”

“‘Course we knew” Sarah revealed as she tugged on her jacket, pulling Kimberly’s door shut.

“And you didn’t tell me?” Your hands snapped to your waist, glaring at the group.

Kimberly shrugged while Sarah just let out a laugh. The trickery of them all.

The group shuffled out of the apartment and into Harrison’s car. As Sarah and Kimberly piled into the back, Sarah pulled the door close before you could follow. Yanking on the car door handle, you shouted for them to let you in, but they deviously shook their heads and pointed for you to sit in the front. Grumbling under your breath, you slid into the passenger seat.

On the car ride to the party, Harrison chatted with you despite your snippy tone and one-word retorts.

“Surprised you didn’t invite one of your ‘special’ friends” you grunted as you avoided his question about how exam were going.

“What’re you talking about?” Shit. You hadn’t expected Harrison to catch that bit. Guess he had better hearing than you thought.

“Those girls. From your stories” you elaborated just barely.

As he slowed down to a red light, he turned and fully looked at you. “Are you jealous?”

“Pfft! No! Why would I?” you sputtered. It was enough for Harrison to know better, know what you actually meant.

“Whatever you say, Lil Skunk.” He turned back to focus on driving, watching you fidget out of the corner of his eye.

When you finally arrived at the party, you hopped out only to get immediately greeted and hugged by Emma. She walked you around the house Tom rented for the night and you gawked at the glamorous sight. Tom spared no expense in decorating every inch of the place with Christmas trees adorned with ornaments and lights twinkling in every room.

The best part of the entire party had to be the open bar. Seeing as you hadn’t enjoyed Halloween’s drinking festivities, you planned on making it up during this party. Initially you ordered a spritzer, unsure if you really wanted to get drunk. Was that doing the most? Spotting all the couples in attendance, all concerns about going overboard went out the window. How in the world did everyone find someone to love them for the holiday season? You regretted not inviting Steven, wishing someone would wrap their arms around you by the fireside.

Strangely enough you found yourself spending most of your time with Harrison. He approached you after your third drink, this time a gin and tonic rather than a spritzer and with a heavy emphasis on the gin. Shoutout to Kenneth the bartender for the major hookup on that.

“What’s that - your fifth drink?” he asked with a cheeky grin.

“It’s my fourth, I’ll have you know” you corrected him, pointing his direction letting the drink slosh out of your cup.

“Ah, yes. Of course. How dumb of me. Sorry I couldn’t figure out how drunk you were.”

“M’not drunk!” you retorted indignantly.

“‘Course you’re not” he sarcastically agreed, sliding down to take a seat next to you.

The two of you proceeded to argue with one another from which drink was best for this party to the greatest video game of all time. Some things he would have agreed with you on, but he found it much more entertaining seeing you get riled up about your passions.

As you later waved your arm out to insist that Tom Hardy was the best Tom in the Marvel universe - Tom Holland included - you accidentally smacked Emma who rushed by.

“Sorry!” you slurred as Harrison took your cup from you so you could hug your best friend without spilling your drink all over her. “Didn’t mean to do that!”

“It’s alright, Y/N. Should’ve been paying attention, but I was kinda looking for someone to grab a couple more candy canes and cider for the party” she explained.

“I can do that!” you volunteered, raising your hand as if you were in class.

“You haven’t got a car” Harrison stifled a laugh.

“Even if you did, you’re not sober” Emma added.

You shook your head and slapped your cheeks. Quick fix. “I’m sober!” you insisted as Harrison laughed and Emma shook her head.

Standing up from the bar, Harrison pulled his keys from out of his pocket. “We can grab those things for you, Em.”

Oh, no. There was no way you were going with him. Shaking your head once more, you stomped your foot in irritation. “No, you go by yourself then. I’m not coming with you.”

“You’d leave me all alone and defenseless?” You bobbed your head up and down in response causing him to laugh again. “I’ll buy you those chocolate candy canes you love so much” he coaxed you. Had you told him your preference in candy canes or did he just remember? You weren’t sure. Still, you liked the idea of having those.

You paused, pretending to mull over the decision. “Fine, but I get shotgun” you announced. Harrison rolled his eyes and nodded. Of course you would get shotgun. Where else would you sit? The back? But in your drunken state you weren’t properly thinking things through.

Emma thanked the pair of you before hurrying off to help with hostess duties. Letting the alcohol consume your actions, you found yourself skipping to his car before jumping in.

“You’re like an Uber driver” you commented to Harrison, giggling at how funny you thought you were.

“Am I now?” he asked as he entertained your idea. He started the car and as he pulled out of the driveway, you nodded your head. “Would you give me a five star rating for driving you around?”

“No, you’d get a one. Get better playlists, Osterfield.” You laughed uncontrollably at the ridiculousness of it all while he laughed at your silliness, obviously enjoying every second of your drunk commentary.

When he parked in the grocery store lot, he helped open your door and watched you carefully as you fumbled out. As he placed a hand behind the small of your back, you found yourself leaning in towards him. Of course it was to steady yourself and nothing more. Of course.

The two of you shuffled around, him pointing out how you would get lost in the store without him as you argued that you could make your way around easily.

Somewhere down the line the bickering felt natural, no malice underneath either of you words. You weren’t sure when or how but now you found fighting with him oddly...Nice. What the fuck?

No, you weren’t going down that road again. You knew better. You reminded yourself that you had someone who cared about you that wasn’t going to toy with your feelings. Not getting played like Boo Boo the Fool this time.

The two of you split up as you insisted that you could find your favorite flavor without his guidance. When you finally found them, you grabbed a couple boxes letting them pile up in your arms. You turned around to find Harrison but instead spotted Steven a couple aisles down.

God, Steven looked so good. With a dark hoodie and a maroon beanie, he looked like a model that it took your breath away. Balancing the boxes in one hand, you were about to raise your free hand when a girl approached him. She wrapped her arms around his waist and he turned her direction. Steven wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in close before kissing her deeply.

Oh.

You sobered up quickly as you watched the scene unfold. As she pulled her head back and smiled up at Steven, he crinkled his nose before kissing her once more.

Oh.

The candy cane boxes tumbled out of your arms and crashed to the ground, yet the couple didn’t notice. The two were too preoccupied with one another’s presence, Steven cupping her face before she said something that made him pepper kisses along her jaw.

Oh.

“Lil Skunk, I found-” Harrison begun but saw you frozen in place and cut his sentence short. His eyes followed your stare to see what you saw. His eyes shut and he took a deep breath. When he opened them, he winced knowing that there was nothing he could really say to you in that moment.

Your heart pounded loudly and you struggled to breath. Your bottom lip trembled, still focused on the sight that was breaking you with every second.

Harrison quickly grabbed your hand, guiding you away from the scene. Still you couldn’t tear your eyes away from Steven and the beautiful girl he now laughed with. Was it the same things you laughed about at the White Elephant party? Or was she funnier than you? Were your jokes lame in comparison to hers? But the biggest question that haunted you the most kept repeating over and over: had that night and that kiss meant nothing to Steven?

It wasn’t until Harrison stepped to your other side, blocking your view of the couple, that you finally stopped staring.

As Harrison went to pay he held your hand in his, glancing at you every so often. Your eyes stared off into space, not focusing on anything in particular as you kept thinking about Steven and the mystery girl. You went through the motions as Harrison opened the car door for you, telling you to get in. He found himself repeating his words, instructing you to buckle your seatbelt until he finally watched you click it in.

The street lights washed over your face yet all you could do was thinking about the scene. As it replayed over in your mind, you felt almost numb. Your eyes glossed over, remembering how he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear before leaning in to kiss you. Had Steven meant it? Or were you the practice round for the real deal?

By the time Harrison parked outside the party, you still weren’t all there. It was as if your mind was preoccupied by the numbness to think of anything else. You could hear him calling your name, a clear concern when he repeated himself a third time. “We’re here. You can unbuckle your seatbelt.” When you didn’t move, he decided to release it for you. It slid off your chest and back into the holder, not phasing you in the slightest.

“I think you’re amazing” Steven’s words echoed in your mind. But do you?

You heard your name called and by the fifth time, you finally turned and looked towards Harrison. “Y/N-” he started, leaning towards you. Why was he looking at you like that? His pained expression only added to your confusion. You turned away, facing towards the window.

“I think you’re amazing.” Then why did you kiss her? Why did you look at her like that? Why were you holding her?

Without any prompt, you begun telling Harrison about the night of the white elephant party. As you spoke, you heard your voice getting heavier with each word. It felt like you were choking out every syllable until finally you couldn’t take anymore, and you finally broke. You burst into tears, sobbing heavily. Why couldn’t he have liked you? Why were you never the one?

So many questions filled your mind and it poured out in tears in response. You weren’t sure when it happened, but Harrison gently wrapped you in his arms, stroking your hair. You sobbed with only the sound of the boy next to you whispering to let it all out. And you did as you were instructed, crying harder and louder until you couldn’t cry anything else.

“I’m so sorry” Harrison murmured as he held you close. “I’m so so sorry.”

Once you exhausted yourself from crying, you felt your eyes growing heavy. You didn’t want to fall asleep, but there was something comforting about Harrison’s arms that you couldn’t help but doze off. All thoughts about the party, the mystery girl, and Steven vanished as your eyes shut.

When you finally opened your eyes, you realized you were no longer in Harrison’s car. Slowly turning your head, you blinked trying your best to wake up from your tired state. You looked up to see Harrison carrying you.

Noticing you stirring in his arms, he looked down and softly smiled at you. “I’m just bringing you back to your apartment, love” he explained. Oh, God. He hadn’t called you by that in a while. There was something about that nickname that always made your heart flutter.

You sighed deeply, resting your head against his chest.

It was strange having him carry you into your apartment with such ease. And yet this kindness was more than welcome.  

Lightly kicking open your door, he placed you down on your bed. Before you could say anything, he begun tucking you in. He murmured that you needed to get rest. The idea was tempting, yet you found yourself trying to get up.

“C’mon, love. Just rest, alright?” he persuaded you to lay back under the covers.

“What about the party? I have to explain things to Emma” you insisted though you didn’t move.

“I already let her know that you weren’t feeling well and that I was taking you home” he explained. How kind of him to cover like that. You wondered how that conversation transpired but knew he would brush it off as no big deal and refuse to explain.

“Just get some rest” his voice encouraged, eyes finally softening as you relaxed into your bed. Right as he was about to leave, you grabbed his hand. He turned and looked at you.

“Am I-” you stopped, nervous to continue your thoughts out loud. But something in Harrison’s warm glance asked you to continue. “Am I just not capable of being loved or something? Like am I just never gonna be someone’s special person?” you choked out, tears starting to form again.

He quickly took a seat next to you. “You are. And you will be” he attempted to reassure you. “That guy-” Harrison paused, brushing his free hand through his hair. “That guy’s a fuckin’ prick. He’s an idiot, Y/N. He has no idea what he’s missing out on.”

“That other girl was so pretty, though. So much prettier than me-”

“Stop it. Don’t do that. Don’t…” he seemed lost for the right words to comfort you.

“I’m probably gonna die alone, and they’re only gonna find me because dogs will be eating my body” you sniffled.

He smiled at that one, grazing a hand on your face to wipe away the tears. “I promise you that won’t happen.” Don’t promise what you can’t keep.

Right as he was about to stand up and leave, you squeezed his hand. You didn’t want him to go. At least not yet. Something about his presence felt comforting and you wished you could just intertwine your fingers with his. Was it okay to want more with Harrison?

“Will you stay? Please?”

Harrison looked startled by your request. After all, no swearing or calling him by his usual nickname? You even added please with no sarcastic tone. Obviously this wasn’t the relationship he was used to. He looked at your door before turning back and nodding his head.

He kicked off his shoes and took off his jacket; the only time he let go of your hand was to take off his coat, but quickly grabbed hold of your hand once more as the jacket hit the ground. You scooted towards the other side of the bed, allowing him space to join you.

“I mean it, Y/N.” You could feel your eyes getting heavy. “I meant everything I said.” It was hard keeping your eyes open even though you wanted nothing more than to keep taking in his features.

His voice murmured for you to sleep, lulling you to rest. You closed your eyes as he told you how strong you were and how you deserved so much better. But who was better?

You felt him gently caress your cheek and kiss your forehead before you finally dozed off.

Soft chirps woke you the next day. Your eyes fluttered open and looked towards the window to see light seeping in. Last night felt like an out of body experience, as if it wasn’t particularly real. Yet you knew there was no denying all the events that occurred.

You turned to see the other side of your bed empty. No Harrison at all. Sitting up you looked at your side desk, hoping to see something. No note. Nothing. You rummaged through your purse to find your phone at ten percent. There were a couple texts from Emma and Tom, but no message from Harrison. You charged your phone before sighing and falling back onto your mattress.

And there was the truth of it all. He could give you false hope, make you think something might’ve been happening, but he never stayed. After all, you weren’t his. To him you were just Lil Skunk, a friend of a friend’s. He could say otherwise, but you both knew better. You were just a pastime, someone to tease until he moved onto better things. He could find prettier girls to occupy his time so why waste it on you? The empty space said it all: Harrison didn’t and wouldn’t ever like you in that sort of way.

Even if Harrison was right about what he said yesterday, not even he stayed for you. Not really.

tags list: @sleepybesson, @tomhaz | @butithasntkilledyouyet, @chims-kookies, @choke-me-sweet-pea, @highladyjel, @sadnoelle, @sleepwalkingdragon, @soccerstud004, @spider-mendes, @thefallenbibliophilequote

part six | part six [clean-ish]

#harrison osterfield #harrison osterfield x reader #harrison osterfield x you #harrison osterfield x y/n #haz osterfield #haz osterfield x reader #haz osterfield x you #haz osterfield x y/n #haz osterfield imagine #harrison osterfield imagine #harrison osterfield fic #harrison osterfield fanfiction #haz osterfield fic #haz osterfield fanfiction #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fic #my writing #fic: not so subtle

[purplesurveys]

546

Are we alike?

You pretty much always have a cup of tea or a bottle of water with you. I do bring my Hydroflask with me to school everyday. I love my water, lol.

You think enjoying the moment is more important than catching it on camera. I mean, it kinda depends. There are some moments that I know are way too significant, so I’d take one or two photos just so I’d have some sort of souvenir that would, over time, be more reliable than my memory. Case in point, I definitely danced my heart away at my Paramore show, but I took 15-second videos for a couple of songs I really liked. You enjoy watching documentaries. I don’t have the time nowadays, but I love them. The last one I watched is Netflix’s docu about Fyre Festival. You spend most of your time alone and have no close relationships. As shy as I am, I like being around people. You joined Pottermore and were sorted into Gryffindor.

You have a dry and sarcastic sense of humour. I can.  Long, dark winter nights drain you. Summer is by far your favourite season and lifts your mood a lot. If I’m not otherwise spending a day at the beach, I HATE summer. A lot of the time you have to laugh at your own bad luck. I always catch the red light. I’m ALWAYS the first car in line that’s caught behind a red light. Gabie knows this for fact that whenever it happens we just laugh it off. Your mood plummets if you don't follow a health and fitness routine. Your favourite ever music video is Lana Del Rey's Ride. I don’t care for Lana Del Rey. You love lazy summers spent going for walks and lounging in the garden. Meh, not really. I don’t like being alone with my thoughts, which is what walking and lounging would do for me. I prefer going out with a friend or two. You love to spend your time lost in a good book. I like when books are able to catch my attention for long, but it’s not my favorite pastime. You watch American Horror Story and Asylum is your favourite season so far. You've overcome a lot over the last year but have slipped up recently. After N passed, my backlog grew bigger because I didn’t want to deal with work after losing someone so suddenly. You prefer sitting exams to completing coursework. I usually feel lazy to do fieldwork or labwork, and my strong suit is memorizing stuff and writing essays, so.

You love long car journeys spent listening to music. So long as it’s music I find pleasurable, or something I can sing along to. You find learning about how people lived in the past interesting. That’s why I’m taking an elective this semester called Social History of the Philippines. That class is literally about how Filipinos used to deal with hygiene, how they used to cook, the games kids played, how they dealt with sicknesses before modern medicine took over. It’s one of my favorite classes that I’ve ever taken.

Your parent's closed-minded attitudes frustrate you. I mean, anyone who is close-minded can be frustrating. 

You've grown very used to loneliness. I had no friends for many years, so yeah. I mean most days I like being around people, but there are still some times I do want to shut the world out, delete all my social media (except Tumblr so I can keep taking surveys ha), turn on airplane mode on my phone so no one texts, and spend the whole day with my coloring books. You prefer getting up early and having productive mornings. I always hated getting up early, from all the way back in kindergarten. You try to enjoy dancing in public but you still feel very awkward. This, especially in parties. Even when I’m already drunk I still hate it, and I prefer being with my friends at the side of the dance floor. You can't even be bothered to hold grudges and find them pointless. Winona Ryder is one of your favourite actresses. She’s not my FAVORITE favorite but I have a soft spot for her. You don't find award shows very interesting. You have no patience for people who are glued to their phones. I once saw this Expectation/Reality comic on Facebook, with the Expectation side showing people all glued to their phones while riding the bus and how it’s ~ruining society. The Reality pane, in actuality, shows that all these people on their phones were actually talking to their loved ones – one was saying how she was on her way to the hospital and can’t wait to meet her newborn niece, another was congratulating her friend for passing an exam, another was complimenting her friend for her pretty plant. Ever since then when I see people on their phones, I don’t get as annoyed about it cos for all I know they can be having a very special conversation. You're a bit of a hypochondriac. You enjoy warm evenings spent doing yoga in the garden. Sunsets are one of your favourite things about the planet. You prefer to avoid medication but appreciate it's necessary sometimes. I avoid it because it’s expensive, and I know my parents won’t be willing to help me out with mine because there are more important things to pay for. I do realize that I may need it, though. You find talking to older people easier than talking to ones your own age. It’s very hard to find older people who are pleasant to talk to in this country, because almost every Boomer and X-er are close-minded and conservative. You're naturally quiet and content with being that way. I can sit with someone somewhere, not talk for hours, and it wouldn’t mean that I don’t like them. Your handwriting seems to change every time you pick up a pen. It’s been pretty consistent through the years. You dislike the thought of ever being dependent on anybody. Texting bores you and you'd rather just make a phone call. You like to hear about other people's music tastes. Talking about music bores me, lowkey. You prefer to keep your living space clean and tidy. It’s certainly more relaxing to look at. Anxiety controls you more than you'd like to admit. I’m very aware of just how much it controls me lmao. You can hardly even cope with being around people because of it. You can't decide whether you prefer cities or countryside. Cities. Always. You're pretty much incapable of ever relaxing. 7 classes for this semester, thesis year, and executive positions in both my org and our college’s graduation committee. Weekends like this where I can take more than one survey are ridiculously rare. You like discovering and being introduced to new music. Your favourite song by The Smiths is What Difference Does It Make. You procrastinate things you don't feel capable of doing perfectly. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA yeah these ones I keep to the very back of the line. You keep pretty much everything to yourself. I don’t think so. I tell my best friends everything. You have quite a temper but you're good at controlling it. I’ve done things while angry before and regretted them, so I’ve learned to control my temper. You much prefer skirts and dresses to jeans. Welp I hate skirts, but I like dresses. And I HATE jeans. You're not really a fan of alcohol anymore. Your parents let you down when you needed them the most. This only applies to my mom. You have a pretty awful relationship with your mum and it upsets you. It doesn’t upset me; I’ve grown used to it over the years. You dream of finding a sense of belonging somewhere. You're a fan of The Cure. You love doing toning exercises, especially stomach workouts. I hate exercising. Patience is definitely not a trait of yours. You don't expect anybody to take an interest in you or be there for you. Keyword being expect. The Devil and God Are Raging Inside Me is one of your favourite albums. You're a university student. Yeah huh. And expected to end in a year, too. You waste too much time on Tumblr and the internet in general. Not so much on Tumblr, but we do need the internet to do nearly everything now, don’t we? You're an Arctic Monkeys fan. You've read and loved The Outsiders by S.E Hinton. Based on this, are we alike? I think I left more entries than I bolded, so it’s probably safe to say not really.

#survey #surveys

[eabhaalynn]

So you want to be a doctor...

Congratulations on even thinking about this career path! It is undoubtedly a noble one, and one which will be very rewarding. You probably love science, you probably already work super hard at school, and you’ve probably got your own personal motivation that I will never properly understand. All of these are admirable, and I know I was in your position not too long ago.

Over the next few years, and probably over the last number of years, you will have some life experiences that will be truly incredible. These experiences will be inextricably linked to your career choice, and you should be so grateful to have them. My own volunteering in my community, with the FRIENDS group, is probably the most formative experience of my life. It is definitely what inspired me most to be a doctor, and I miss it to this day. More recently, I have got to see incredible doctors at work, both in the UK and US. They are such incredible communicators, saving and changing lives every single day – I am overwhelmed with gratitude and I don’t doubt that these experiences will change your life for the better.

But today, we have to be realistic, so here is the rest of what the last three (give or take) years have taught me about trying to be a doctor…

You almost certainly can do it.

I did my GCSEs at a school where not many people do medicine, and the ones who do are the ‘geniuses’ who don’t know what anything short of an A* looks like. You should all know that I am not one of these geniuses, at all. In fact, I barely remember what an A* looks like. So, as you may expect, when I announced my career plans to my fifth-year careers teacher, she told me that I ‘wasn’t academic enough’ for medicine and would never get to the interview stage of the process, so I’d be better off trying something else. My predicted GCSE grades were fairly unremarkable; 2A* 6A 2B. However, I am far too stubborn to listen to any career’s teacher, so I did try. I tried far too hard and did unexpectedly well at GCSE. Two years on, I am in a fairly similar academic dilemma; but this time I have a firmly accepted offer to study medicine. It’s all about progress. So, what I’m really trying to say is that if I can get a medicine offer, you can too. And please don’t listen to careers advisors who try to tell you otherwise.

Just because you can, doesn’t mean you should.

It’s almost exam season, and you’re going to work so hard and do so well, whatever stage you’re at. After exam time is summer time, and that’s when you’ll have time to have a really good think about what you’re getting yourself into, and why. (I know and fully understand I am only an upper 6thand have no right to talk about medicine as a degree or career – just the application).

Using my own personal experiences, here is what the application process was like for me…

SCHOOLS

Yes, this is a bizarre one. But essentially, I changed schools for medicine. I was THAT committed to the cause. And I promise the application process will still leave you feeling like you want to study anything but medicine.

Personally, I wasn’t too torn up about leaving, but it can be a really big deal. Certain courses require certain A Levels – and for the courses I wanted to apply to I really couldn’t have stayed. This isn’t make-or-break stuff, but it’s not something I gave much thought to until it was almost too late.

GCSEs

These are important exams. Most medical schools will either rank them standalone or on a point system before they interview you. You should definitely study. These are also probably the last exams you’ll sit at school where your hard work is almost guaranteed to pay off – so you’re better off putting in the work now. Better GCSEs would have made my sixth form experience infinitely easier, and worse ones could have made it far more difficult. They are not, however, an ultimatum. They do not define you or your ability to be a doctor.

VOLUNTEERING AND WORK EXPERIENCE

If you’re volunteering to get into medicine you’re doing it wrong. But volunteering for the good of your community and for the good of others, even for the sheer experience of it, is probably one of the greatest things you can ever do. Start as early as you can, and put in all the hours you can, while you can. Some experiences won’t be brilliant, but they’ll be worth it (and some medical schools need it.)

As I mentioned earlier, work experience is incredible, but it can be difficult to organise. Start contacting doctors and healthcare professionals you know as soon as you can. They were very accommodating to me – they’ve all been where we are. It can also be quite consuming, while my friends were making big money in retail, or with their talents (sailing and music namely) I was making tea in hospitals, unpaid. Again, this isn’t a big deal at all, it’s just not something I would ever have considered.

OPEN DAYS

Medicine isn’t the kind of vocation that you can decide to just stay at home to study. You need to accept that if you live in Northern Ireland, ¾ of your choices will not be in Northern Ireland. I am a wee bit apprehensive and so I spent a great deal of my sixth form experience travelling up and down the country, visiting all sorts of medical schools I was thinking about applying to. This has clear financial implications, and I completely understand that it is not accessible for everyone. It’s definitely not a necessity, but its something I’m really glad I did.

Not all medicine courses are the same, not all cities are the same. You’ll be spending five or six years of your life at these Universities, so you’re better to do your research on them rather than wasting a space on your application.

AS LEVELS

Lower Sixth was the hardest year of my school career. I was in a new school (which I love), studying new subjects (which I love), and yet I was really struggling. All of the medical schools I was applying to specified 4 AS levels in their entry requirements – so it was never going to be a fun year. Looking back, I don’t know how I did it. It was far more to handle than upper sixth has been. Study subjects you love, and just accept now that you will quickly stop loving them – especially chemistry. Try to balance a personal life too, because that only gets more difficult with time. In Lower Sixth, I was in a relationship, kept up my volunteering, and even had a job until Christmas. Your academic attainment will probably not be what it was previously, but that’s okay, it will come in time. Surround yourself with all the support you can, get a library membership and use it. Buy textbooks and get a tutor if you need to – again I know this has its financial implications. And please know that you will survive the year.

UKCAT

This is where the shit really hit the fan for me. It will make your A levels look like P5 English. My school were fairly supportive, and even then, I was still left largely to my own devices. I sat mine fairly early, and I’m so glad I did, because it really does have the potential to ruin your summer. Allow a solid three weeks to cram, there are brilliant resources online, and some books available. Again, if your financial situation allows, there is an amazing course that Kaplan run every weekend through the summer and it boosted my score significantly.

There is also the BMAT that certain universities require, I didn’t sit this myself but it’s supposed to be more academic based than the UKCAT. It’s also sat on a single date in October, by which stage you have already applied, and know your UKCAT score and how it sits compared with the average. I wasn’t willing to take the risk and didn’t like the uncertainty, but it is entirely personal choice.

PERSONAL STATEMENT

Do yourself a favour and write this in June. I am a firm believer that lower sixth exams finish early for a 4000-character long reason. I am one of the lucky ones and wrote my personal statement in one draft. There aren’t many people in my position, and I am well aware of how many people were so fed up and drained by this following AS Levels. But it’s so much easier to handle then than it ever could be in September. It’s also not nearly as long as you think it’s going to be – and that just makes everything harder.

UCAS

I sent away my UCAS application on Monday, 10thSeptember 2018. By that Thursday, I had received my first offer to study Genetics at Glasgow. Without meaning to sound arrogant, I could probably have got five non-medicine offers back within the week. But applying to medicine was a completely different ball game. My final ‘UCAS Application Status Notification’ email came on Wednesday 3rdApril 2019. Just a week short of seven months later. It was a rejection from a medical school. My third rejection.

Those UCAS emails give you the sort of fear that isn’t really comparable to anything else. The feeling of being rejected from a University who has met you, spoken to you, and marked your personality as unworthy, seems very personal. It does hurt, but no more than any fall out or heartbreak would. It just hurts differently because it’s a whole institution that has rejected you. This isn’t pleasant, but it is a reality for the majority of applicants and offer holders. So, if it does happen to you, just know you’re not alone.

INTERVIEW

I was very naïve going into the interview stage. Of my four choices, I had three interviews, within three consecutive weeks. I have one offer. Two of the interview processes were friendly, and they were manageable. The third was a truly awful experience. Thus, I think it’s fair to say that the interview process is variable. All of my interviews were in January, right in the rush of A Level work, I even had my attendance reported because of them. MMIs themselves can be fun, especially with relatively supportive examiners. But there is so much preparation required for a medicine MMI and the reality is that you can place in the top 20% of one University and the bottom 20% of another with very similar interviews. They take their toll on you, and are physically exhausted, between travelling, early mornings and the workload of the preparation. It is also, I believe, fair to say, that it can be quite emotionally destructive to have your personality scored and analysed in such a manner.

A LEVELS

Only when applying to medicine do a-levels feel like an after-thought. At this stage, I feel like I have been put through the ringer by this application, and to even get an offer has been more than I ever thought I was capable of. But you do need the 3As, in some of the hardest subjects and exams that boards can write. Its easy enough to forget that, but it is an immense amount of pressure, and it is still my present.

So you want to be a doctor…

I am so grateful to have got this far with my medicine application, and I do genuinely hope I get to study it in September.

There is so little accessible information regarding the details of the process and how to approach it without losing your head over it. I don’t think anyone has cracked it yet, and if they have I wish they’d write a post about it instead of this one.

Ultimately, you have to take care of yourself first. It’s what your doctor would tell you to do. You are more important than any and every stage of this process, and your own mental and physical health should come before every career choice you make. I hope to see you on the ward someday! But even more than that, I hope you get to be everything you aspire to be, whether you decide medicine is for you or not.