#spine ridge university series
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Book Two of...
Story: 3 out of 5
Smut: 5 out of 5
I still can’t wrap my mind around these college kids being so lethal. I know it’s all fictional, but it’s just a little too much.
Don’t get me wrong, the story and smut is still entertaining, but it’s just not my cup of tea. I’m sure lots of you will enjoy it though.
Each character is enjoyable up to a certain point. There were many times I hated each character, but they redeemed themselves. Mostly.
And while I said that this wasn’t really my cup of tea, I still wanna read book three. I need to find out about Crystal and House Tartarus.
Now here are my rambling thoughts…
* Oh shit. I just realized that Lana is Felix’s little sister 🤦🏻♀️
* This fraternity rivalry is ridiculous. Like why does the Phantom Society wanna hit back at the Skull and Serpent Society? You guys fucked around and found out, and now you’re pissy?
* “Now make your choice, little kitty. What’s it going to be? Keep your secret or your body?” // “Secret.” // “Good choice.”
* Damn. Kai really took out his frustrations on Lana. Felix is gonna rage if he ever finds out.
* Wow. Kai’s keeping this a secret from his boys 👀
* Ew. Jason’s a lousy fuck.
* Damn. He really did lick her like a lollipop 😂
* As of right now, I like Kai, hate Nathan, and don’t trust Milo.
* Nathan wanting Milo to record everything Kai does to Lana so he can extort her is pissing me off. Felix should have killed him in book one.
* *sighs* I don’t know how I feel about these guys.. I like Kai well enough, but the other two suck. And don’t even get me started and Lana’s badassery. It’s just too much.
* Nathan’s really pissing me off. Kai got her to agree to be your fuck toy and you still wanna extort her for money? Fuck you, dude. I hope Kai kicks your ass when he finds out.
* “Are you going to tie me up again? Use me like your friends did!” // “No…” His knees slowly cave in on him, and he sinks to the cold, hard stones right in front of me. “I want to submit. To be punished, to be hurt… to be used. Command my body. I am yours.”
* Damn. Milo really is twisted. I only love him when he’s not being Nathan’s little bitch.
* Fucking Nathan extorting her for 2K and Jason abandoning her the moment he saw the pic. Fuck both these dudes.
* “It’s a matter of life or death.” // “Then die.”
* Wow. Lana actually had a semi-vulnerable moment with Nathan and Milo, and Nathan had to go and ruin it. I almost feel bad for Milo.
* Fuck. Jason knows. Jason knows and he’s gonna blab. If not him, then definitely Crystal. Lana is so fucked.
* Oh no. Poor Milo.
* Damn. Lana straight up murdered all those people when three guys couldn’t do it 😂
* Well fuck. Lana got recognized and now they’re gonna be after her. Is this where I start to really love the boys? The touch her and die vibes coming in?
* Lol Jason’s bitch ass got what he deserved. I can’t believe he told Felix everything. Fuck that dude.
* Why do I have a feeling this Caleb dude found that folder of Lana’s pics on Nathan’s laptop and is gonna use them for his gain 🤦🏻♀️
* Nathan’s parents ain’t coming out of prison. Damn. Oh well.
* Fucking called it.
* And now she’s been kidnapped. Awesome.
* So if Caleb didn’t send the pic, who did?
* Oh shit. It was Crystal. Accidentally, but still.. fuck.
* Damn. So Crystal got taken and now I gotta read book 3 to find out what happened to her 😒
#spine ridge university series#spine ridge university#evil boys#clarissa wild#lana rivera#kai torres#nathan reed#milo fletcher#dark romance#mafia romance#booktok book review#book review#bully romance#romance
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twilight. (m)
pairing: vampire!jaehyun + afab!reader
words: 3.3k+
summary: you’re 100% sure your boyfriend is a werewolf. surprise kicks in when you discover he’s a different kind of monster.
genre: smut
warnings: dubcon, squirting, choking, anal, reader gets thrown around like a ragdoll, crying, public sex, blood drinking, creampies
You’re a passionate fan of the Twilight series. Most of your friends know this, so your declaration that your new boyfriend is a werewolf comes at no surprise.
“Is it just because Jaehyun has a six pack?” Seulgi muses, chewing at the end of her fork thoughtfully.
You roll your eyes. “No. Although, that is a nice bonus.”
Johnny sighs at the other end of the table. “Is this just like last year? You know, when Taeyong dressed as Edward Cullen for Halloween and you were convinced he was hiding in plain sight?”
Your gaze drifts to the boy mentioned as he sits across the local diner, where most of your university frequents. Taeyong is laughing at something Jaehyun said, and guessing by the blooming red of Doyoung’s ears, you assume they’re teasing him again.
“No! Listen, my Taeyong theory was very good even though none of you entertained it, but this is different. Trust me, I know Jaehyun is a werewolf. I sleep right next to him,” you try to say convincingly.
Your friends offer you dead gazes. They’ve heard it all before from you, and were thoroughly pleased at how dumb you looked when you shoved Taeyong in the sun to prove diamonds would glitter off his skin. It merely resulted in your bashful apology to Taeyong, who was more than happy to laugh and forgive you.
“Maybe we shouldn’t try to mess this relationship up when it’s just started,” Minjeong says carefully, eyeing your reaction.
It’s true — you had only started dating Jaehyun two weeks ago after months of senseless flirting. Johnny was about to lock the both of you in a room just to get you to realize how much you like each other, but luckily you confessed before it got that far.
A pair of arms encircle your waist, and a kiss is pressed to the shell of your ear. “What are you scaring them with today?” A throaty chuckle sends shivers down your spine.
“Someone has another supernatural theory,” Seulgi responds to Jaehyun’s question, one eyebrow raised. You glare at her and give her a warning look not to spill your suspicion.
“Oh really?” You can hear the smile in Jaehyun’s voice. He knows all about your Taeyong debacle from last year. “Who are we targeting this time?”
“No one!” You quickly respond, spinning in his hold and plastering a smile on your face. You kiss his cheek and grab his hand, tugging him away from the table and out the diner. “They’re just being silly. Why don’t we go back to your place?”
Jaehyun laughs, lips ghosting the back of your neck.
“Yeah? Baby wants to go back to my place?”
You whimper at the tone of his voice, knowing exactly what he plans to do to you.
“Yes, please, daddy.”
—
It feels like you’re on Cloud 9. Jaehyun’s hand is tangled in the back of your hair, your face is shoved in one of his comfiest pillows, and his cock is brutally fucking your pussy. Before Jaehyun, no other guy really knew how to ruin you like this. Jaehyun was the first one who turned you into a dumb, drooling, cockwhore mess.
“Pillow princess,” he sinisterly laughs above you, watching your mouth fall open in ecstasy. “Never wants to do any work. Always wants daddy to take care of her.”
You feel his fingers brush the strands of hair away from your face, and his mouth grazes your cheek. His balls slap against your clit lewdly, his bedroom filled with the sounds of your squelching pussy.
“Now, tell me about this supernatural theory you have, baby.”
“Ungh,” you cry, barely able to remember your own name. You can feel every ridge and vein of his cock hug your walls, preventing you from thinking about anything else.
“Is it about Doyoung?” He murmurs in your ear, ignoring your cries when he picks up his pace. You know for a fact that you’ll be sore tomorrow.
“How about Mark?”
You swear you feel him in the back of your throat.
“Yuta?”
He applies pressure to your clit, rolling the nub between his thumb and forefinger. You see stars.
“Ten?”
The pressure is building, building, building, and-
“Is it about me?”
You hopelessly crash, crying loudly as you reach your orgasm. Your nails dig into Jaehyun’s arm, holding him close while he helps you ride your high.
You’re offered no time to recover, Jaehyun manhandling you onto your side while he presses up behind you. His fingers grip your thigh roughly, hoisting it in the air and allowing him to slide back in your dripping cunt.
“S-Sensitive, daddy-“
“I don’t give a fuck,” he growls, hips snapping into yours. It almost sounds like he’s mad at you. “Tell me about the theory you have on me.”
You feel wetness falling down your cheeks and faintly register that you started crying. You’re a blubbering mess, begging for Jaehyun to slow down.
“What do you think I am, hm? Gonna shove me in the sun like you did with Taeyong?”
All you can manage is a string of moans, your second orgasm approaching quickly. “M-More, daddy,” you beg, desperately looking back to try and get him to kiss you.
“You’ll get more when you answer my question, baby,” he hisses, prodding his fingers against your lips. You take the hint, opening your mouth wide and allowing him to slide his fingers in. You suck at his digits lewdly, trying your best to please him.
He groans at the sight of you. “Fucking hell. So what is it, baby? Wizard? Elf? Bigfoot?”
“W-Werewolf,” you choke against him, finally admitting it. You grow warm and prepare yourself for the upcoming embarrassment.
There’s a pause in Jaehyun’s thrusts before you hear him laughing maniacally. His fingers leave your mouth in favor of digging into your hips, finding leverage so he can pound into you harder.
“Werewolf? Seriously, baby? You’re dumber than I thought.”
You struggle to defend yourself when your climax suddenly hits you, your cunt squirting all over Jaehyun’s sheets. You think you’re screaming, trying desperately to push him away as he shows no mercy on you. You nearly topple over when he harshly grabs your hair, pushing you forward until half of your body is dangling off the side of the bed.
Jaehyun slides in even deeper than before, if it was humanly possible. “Listen to how wet you get for me,” he hums, enjoying the loud squelch of your wetness. “Remember when I first fucked you? Could barely take an inch before you were begging to stop.”
You remember it very clearly. You and Jaehyun hadn’t made anything official at the time, yet you couldn’t keep your hands off one another. He had taken you in the back of the university library, your fingers holding onto the bookcases for dear life while he tried his best to fit his cock into your tiny pussy.
“I couldn’t believe how lucky I got to find an obedient whore like you. You’ll let me take you anywhere I like, won’t you, baby?” He chuckles when your only response is an outcry of his name. “Too bad you’re so nosy. Sticking your face into things that aren’t your business to begin with.”
He leans over you until your palms hit the floor. His cock pushes deeper and deeper when his teeth hovers over your neck.
“Daddy-“ you whimper, feeling restless. “I c-can’t.”
“You can and you will,” he says, and his tone indicates that there’s no room for argument. “After you tell me why you think I’m a werewolf.”
You make your best attempt at pushing forward an explanation as to why you think your boyfriend can secretly transform into a four-legged animal, but it comes out in stutters and half-sentences.
“Sick and I-I thought- you didn’t w-want to t-talk to me- just l-like Jacob did w-with Bella-“
Jaehyun, somehow, is able to piece your explanation together. “When I was sick last week and ignored you, you thought I was going through my transformation like Jacob did with Bella in Twilight?”
You nod shyly, afraid to look back and see the mocking emotion on his face. You squeak when you’re manhandled again, this time being pushed on your back and forced to look up at your boyfriend.
“You have to stop reading those silly books, baby,” he says, his voice gentle even though his hands work their way to your throat. He squeezes it and you choke. “They make you so dumb.”
“Y-You like me d-dumb, daddy,” you whisper, voice hoarse from the screaming and the weight crushing your windpipe.
“I do, baby. You know me so well,” he smiles. You’re about to smile back when you suddenly feel the tip of his cock prod against your other entrance, causing you to gasp. Jaehyun has only tried anal with you one other time, and that was after hours of preparation and lots of lube. He’s never done it dry before. “Don’t worry, baby. Just trust me.”
The pain is overwhelming and you cry, ignoring the scratch of your throat. “Daddy, it hurts!”
“It’s your punishment,” he says meanly, venom laced in his voice. You’re starting to get whiplash at how fast he changes his emotions. “For thinking I’m a fucking werewolf. How stupid are you?”
“S-Sorry! I’m sorry!” You whimper, kicking your feet to try and get away from him.
You sob louder when his cock continues to stretch you open, and you feel like you’re going to be split in half. The feeling, however, is overshadowed when you abruptly feel a pair of sharp teeth pierce the flesh of your neck. You scream, trying to make sense of what’s actually happening, but Jaehyun is fast to pin you down and ensure you can’t move.
The pain quickly shifts into pleasure, and your body is overtaken by a tingling sensation that spreads from the bottom of your toes to the edge of your fingertips.
“What-“ you mumble blearily, eyes shifting out of focus.
You find yourself struggling to stay conscious, mind blanking while you tumble into darkness.
—
“Johnny!”
The tall man looks behind him, trying to find the source of the voice calling his name. He squints when he sees you behind a pillar, dressed in a hoodie and sunglasses. He jogs over to you, eyeing your choice of outfit.
“Dude, what are you wearing? It’s literally a hundred degrees.”
You shush him, looking around frantically while pulling him behind a nearby building so no one can see you.
“Have you seen Jaehyun?”
Johnny scoffs. “No. Shouldn’t you know where your own boyfriend is?”
You lower your sunglasses so you can look him dead in the eye.
“Johnny, listen to me. Stay away from Jaehyun. I was wrong about him being a werewolf, okay? He’s a vampire. A fucking vampire.”
You receive four rapid blinks. “Haven’t we already gone through this before? I’ll burn your copies of Twilight, I’m dead serious.”
“Johnny!” You scold, frustrated that he isn’t taking you seriously. You quickly unzip your hoodie and show him the markings on your neck, two bright red indents that show where Jaehyun bit you.
“Woah, what the fuck? Did Jaehyun hurt you? I’ll beat his ass, just give me the go ahead.”
“No, no, he didn’t hurt me,” you insist, feeling embarrassed. “I actually kind of liked it.”
Johnny gags. “I didn’t need to know that. Look, you know I love you, but this is clearly you and Jaehyun exploring some nasty kinks that the rest of us don’t need to know about.”
“I’m being serious, Johnny! Jaehyun bit me and it was a vampire bite. He had fangs!”
“You saw his fangs?”
“Well, no. I passed out because his cock was in my ass and-“
“Fuck!” Johnny yells, fingers at his temples in an attempt to erase what you just told him. “What is wrong with you? I don’t want to know that Jaehyun’s dick was in your asshole!”
Students start to stop and stare at the sight of you and Johnny bickering, briefly catching onto the tail end of Johnny’s despair.
“Shut up!” You hiss, clapping your hand over his mouth. “I’m telling you this because it’s important! Jaehyun is a vampire and he got really pissed at me when I told him I thought he was a werewolf. When I woke up, he was gone and I haven’t seen him for days! He’s going to eat me, Johnny!”
He slaps you away and rolls his eyes. “You need to seek counseling, I’m not playing around. Just go tell your boyfriend you don’t like it when he bites you. Problem solved.”
You try to protest again but Johnny finds a way to escape from you, running until you can no longer see him on the other side of campus.
You huff, getting ready to trek back to your apartment and hide from the rest of the possible supernatural world. You freeze when you suddenly feel a presence behind you, and a hand dances around your waist.
“My pretty girl, are you telling the whole world about me?”
The voice sends chills down your spine, and Jaehyun’s lips suck at the lobe of your ear.
“J-Jae-“
He shushes you, pressing you against the wall of the building and out of view from prying eyes. Your heart beats loudly in your chest, and you know that this is it. This is how you die — in the hands of your extremely hot vampire boyfriend.
“I had to spend a few days away from you,” he confesses, fingers wandering up your shirt. “Almost lost myself when I finally got a taste. Your pussy is magnificent, my love, the best pussy I’ve ever tasted in my life but your blood — mmm, it doesn’t even compare.”
“Please don’t kill me,” you beg, crying in distress.
“I would never kill you,” he says with conviction, angry that you would think such a thing. “I would never let anything harm you. You know why?”
You tremble, feeling his fingers push down the band of your sweatpants. “W-Why?”
“Because then I would never get to feel this pussy again. Feel how good she is wrapped around me. Trust me, baby, I’ve lived for a very long time and I waited just to find you.”
Your sweatpants drop down to your ankles, leaving you in nothing but one of Jaehyun’s favorite thongs. You’re far from humiliated, being caught in more compromising positions with Jaehyun before. Your only concern is the fact that you’ve learned your boyfriend is a real-life Edward Cullen, and you have entrusted him with your mortality.
“Are you going to turn me into a vampire?”
“Only if you want to,” he replies, pushing the fabric of your underwear aside and lining himself up to your entrance. “If you want to feel this good for eternity, just say the word, baby.”
You groan when he pushes into you. The stretch is almost like a welcome home. If you’re being fully honest, you wouldn’t last a day if you and Jaehyun broke up. You crave his cock almost every hour of every day, no matter how desperate that makes you sound.
“Tell me you want me, baby. Even if I’m a vampire,” he whispers into the crook of your neck, and you jolt at the thought of him biting you again.
“I want you, daddy,” you sniffle. “Please don’t leave me, daddy.”
“Would never leave you, baby.”
You hear the faint sound of skin slapping against skin, and you moan as you brush your hair back, fully exposing your neck. Jaehyun discards your hoodie to the floor and kisses you gently.
“Want to be marked again, baby?” He asks you and you nod, mewling at the thought. You feel him grin against your skin. “Taeyong thought I was an idiot, you know.”
“Hm?” You hum softly, longing to have him kiss you again.
“You were right about him from the get-go, he’s the leader of our coven in fact,” he says, balls brutally hitting your clit with every thrust. “Everyone mocked you for getting your resources from that shitty book of yours, but I was so proud of my girl. So smart even when everyone else doubts her.”
“Y-You said I was d-dumb!”
He chuckles. “I was just teasing you, baby. But you know I love you dumb. Now show that pretty neck for daddy.”
You tilt your head to give him full access, and his thumb rolls against your clit as a reward. Your eyes dart down in time to see his fangs pop out, and he licks his lips before descending on your neck. Just like last time, there’s no discomfort or pain. Your body almost sings when Jaehyun bites you, and you feel complete in an odd way.
The intimacy helps the coil inside you snap, and Jaehyun groans when he feels your pussy tighten around his cock at the strength of your orgasm.
His teeth sink deeper into your neck, eagerly chasing his own high. You don’t even care at this point if he drains you completely, only focused on his cum filling you to the brim.
“M-More, d-daddy,” you cry, hips meeting the force of his thrusts halfway. “Fill me up. Want to feel your cum spilling out of my tiny pussy.”
He retracts his fangs from your neck and you moan at the sight of your blood spilling from his lips.
“Tastes so fucking good,” he groans. “Want to fuck you forever, baby.”
The sound of footsteps approaching makes you whimper, nails digging into Jaehyun’s wrist. “Faster, daddy, hurry. Someone’s going to see.”
It only takes a few more snaps before ropes of white fill you, Jaehyun groaning loudly into the back of your neck. If you didn’t just fuck him a few days ago, you would have guessed he hadn’t cum for over a year with the amount of his seed he empties into you.
Luckily, whoever was approaching heard your sounds of pleasure and decided it was better to leave you alone. You giggle and turn your head to kiss him, and Jaehyun smiles softly.
“Missed you,” you whisper. “Why did you disappear? I thought you had plans to eat me.”
“Maybe I still do,” he teases, fingers brushing your folds as he pulls out. “I was worried about your reaction. And honestly, baby, you thought I was a werewolf. It was insulting.”
You laugh and kiss him again. “Sorry. I just didn’t want another Taeyong debacle even though now I know I was always right!”
“That you were,” he hums, helping you pull your sweatpants back on. He tucks himself back into his pants and presses a kiss to your neck, licking at his bite and cleaning you up. “I would appreciate it, however, if you didn’t go around and tell everyone.”
“I promise I won’t,” you swear, making yourself presentable. “As long as the only blood you take is mine.”
He laughs. “Someone wants to be a little blood bag, hm? Jealous of me drinking from someone else?”
You frown. “Of course I am. I thought you said my blood tastes divine?”
“It does,” he growls, still licking at remnants of your blood on his lips. “That week I told you I was sick — it was because I needed to feed. If I spent one more night with you, I would have drained you dry, I’m sure of it.”
“You can drink from me everyday, I don’t care,” you say, wrapping your arms around his neck. “As long as you let me have my Bella moment in the forest.”
His grin is blinding. “Whatever my baby wants. How about we have round two in the woods as well?”
Your eyes sparkle. “Deal!”
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January turned out to be enemies to lovers month for me. I sincerely wish there were more true enemies to lovers that weren't mafia-based, but I'll take what I can get!
Dark Verse series 1&2:
10/5. FMC POV, but some MMC snippets. Both books were fantastic. This is a great slow burn and the tension made me squeal. First two books are based on true enemies to lovers. Within the first chapter there is already an attempted murder of one of the MCs. Love the darkness! Great spice. I will read these two again over and over and never tire.
Dark Verse series 3&4:
5/5. Dual POV. Book 3 is a childhood friends to lovers couple; book 4 is marriage of convenience/grumpy x sunshine couple. All set within the same set of friends/family. Both had great spice and suspense/angst. Some mentions of SA. They were great reads and great couples, but can't beat 1&2.
Can't wait to read books 5&6.
Hit / Marked:
Also 5/5 for me. Dual POV. Some mentions of SA. Set in the late 80s and real enemies to lovers - they are from rival mafia families and MMC is tasked with killing FMC but it doesn't go as planned. Great spice. Love that the FMC was a badass! Will very likely read again.
Beautiful Fiend:
10/5 for me. Dual POV. This is *truly* dark and does have some SA/noncon in it. MCs are from rival gangs. Great enemies to lovers. The absolute commitment of the MMC for the FMC killed me. I will read this over and over. Great spice.
There are further books in the series, but I'm not so interested in the characters those are based on, so I haven't read them.
Corrupt:
5/5. Dual POV. This was a wild ride and kept me guessing. It wasn't very enemies to lovers because they both were obsessed with each other, but MMC fights it the entire time. FMC does something to MMC's friends and so he is compelled to hate her and get revenge, but wants her bad. Great spice.
There are further books in the series, but I haven't gotten to them yet.
The Sinner:
4.5/5. Dual POV. Book two in L.O.R.D.S. series. Very dark read and many SA instances, including grooming of a minor. Not so much enemies to lovers, but very jealous/possessive MMC, lots of spice.
First book less dark and less SA mention. Everything in this series involves BDSM/secret society/slight breeding kink. I've only read the first two, but will get to the others when time allows.
Empire of Sin:
3-3.5/5. This was okay. Standalone in a series. Kind of enemies to lovers, but more lovers (one night stand) to enemies to lovers. Okay spice. The fact that I can't remember why I kept reading speaks volumes to me. Not sure I'll read any more in the series.
Corrupted Chaos:
3/5. Also okay. Standalone in a series. Enemies to lovers trope, but it's really they just like to argue with each other. Forced proximity due to the MMC. The FMC cracked me up, and there was some good spice, but fell a little flat. Likely won't read any more in the series.
My DNFs for the month:
Wolf (Halloween Boys 3):
2/5. This is a reverse harem series and each of the four men have their own book with the story of their relationship with the FMC. I enjoyed the first two books, but couldn't finish this one as it's a werewolf MMC and mentions tying. The cringe was too real. The first two books are demon/vampire x dragon and were enjoyable with good spice.
Evil Boys (Spine Ridge University):
3/5. Second book in the series of standalones with dark bully trope. I enjoyed the first book, but the set of characters in this one lost my interest about halfway through. Good spice.
The Sacrifice (L.O.R.D.S. series 3):
4/5. The only reason I didn't finish this one was because there was mention at the beginning of a complete tool/abuser/a;slkjdf; from the second book and I was too mad at the time to keep going. I'll go back and read it, but need a breather between the second and third. The spice in this series is great.
#january reads#the book hangover is real#2024 reads#excited to see where this goes#bring on february#reading#book recommendations#book reccs#book review#enemies to lovers#spicy content#dark romance#smut books#booklr#booklover#books and reading
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hair of the dog that bit you
fandom: Batman
pairing: Gen, Tim & Jason centric
rating: T
tags: Whump, Alternate Universe - Paranormal Investigators
chapter: ⅔
summary: Things get hairy when paranormal investigators Tim and Jason are sent to England in pursuit of a werewolf sighting. aka an American Werewolf in London AU
preview:
Jason points to the horizon. “Moon’s coming out.”
Tim follows his gaze.
The moon crests the horizon—full and round—and his arm explodes with heat. Molten fire courses through his veins, bubbling his skin like candle wax. A ragged scream rips out of Tim’s throat. He claws at his head, desperate for an escape.
Jason bundles Tim’s jacket under his arm. “Breathe,” he coaches unhelpfully.
Tim falls to his hands and knees. His nails curl back like wood filings. His limbs shift out of socket with a series of sickening pops. The pain is blinding. “Please,” Tim begs as his teeth loosen and plunk to the ground between his lengthening hands. Blood fills his mouth and drips down his chin in thick rivulets.
He tries to speak, but his jaw dislocates with a loud crack. Pointy new fangs erupt through his gums and his mouth surges forward to accommodate them. Tim arches his back to scream, and his spine heaves upward, bursting down his back in a long, knobby ridge. His vision has gone yellow. Wirey, brown hair sprouts on his knuckles and down his arms.
He can hear his bones grinding together, the wet gurgle of his organs churning into place. Tim coughs and retches. “Help me,” he groans in a voice that isn’t his own. It’s deeper, unearthly, rumbling through his chest like thunder.
He thinks it will never end, but then, just as abruptly as it started, it stops. The white-hot pain dims, then dies out completely. A bottomless well of power takes its place, intoxicating and unending. Tim thinks, impossibly, that he’s hungry, and then he doesn’t think anything at all.
read on ao3
#tim drake#jason todd#whump#batman#red hood#robin#batman fanfic#my fic#my writing#cw blood#body horror#werewolf
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Unleash the darkness within with Vile Boys, book 3 in the Spine Ridge University series, by @ClarissaWildAuthor, coming February 1st
Now available for preorder, and it's not for the faint of heart.
Prepare for a journey into the depths of dark romance, reverse harem, and morally gray characters that will leave you breathless.
Embrace the darkness and preorder your copy now!
https://amzn.to/3vio8X2
Add to your TBR: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/194074260-vile-boys
Blurb:
They think they’re gods, but I will bring them to their knees.
All I’ve ever known is how to be a good girl.
My father called me his little jewel. I was the promise of a better life for us all.
So I studied hard and treated everyone kindly, just like he’d taught me.
Until I witnessed three vile boys kill.
Ares, Caleb, and Blaine from the Tartarus House. Devilish, hedonistic, ruthless guys determined to break me. They’re self-proclaimed gods of their own purgatory, and they won’t rest until I’ve been silenced.
Their wicked games drive me insane. What they crave is my submission on a silver platter.
And when they threaten my mother’s life, I finally agree to let them own me.
Their filth is overpowering, and my body is corrupted in every way possible.
Debauchery is what they’re good at, burning every inch of my soul until there’s nothing left but hatred for how good they make it feel … hatred for how badly they make me yearn them.
But I will use this hatred against them…
Turn it into a weapon of vengeance…
Make even Gods kneel.
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#VileBoys #ClarissaWild #SpineRidgeUniversity #DarkRomance #PreorderNow #candikaneprpromo @candikanepr
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Most Precious Treasures
Part of the Iridescence Fictional Universe
Precious Sea Glass Series
Pairings: Dragon!Pero Tovar x Nereid f!Reader
Series Rating: M [This portion is all fluff, however]
Word Count: 1.1K
Summary: Pero takes you to his real home for the first time.
Notes: This is an ask answer regarding our favorite dragon and his lil Nereid by @darkstarcomics and you all can thank her for this 💙
[AO3]
Leisure flights were far and few between as the war continued to tear across the continent, watching as hundreds of lives were lost among magic-born and human alike as the worshipers of the Elder Fae continued their attempted assaults, but for Pero a time like this was one he cherished. Just him, the sky, and you. The feeling of your small form nestled against him, safely secured in the ridge of his spines, was a balm against the continued threats.
“Again?” Your request made him rumble out a soft chuckle before his spines flared a little as he performed a large loop in the air, your grip tight as you laughed with the thrill of the upside-down aerial act, and Pero basked in it. Your laughter wasn’t rare but with the rising threats and the fact that the meré had become more bold in the bay waters you and your siblings had taken up arms alongside the selkie to start battling them back.
Pero soared over the ocean and wondered what you would think, having already seen his dreyerie above Kvia laden with such vast treasures, but he suspected you would be impressed. It was this day that would expose the most of him to you, all of his most precious things he kept far away from the world revealed, but with you Pero knew he had nothing to fear or worry over.
You were sweet and gentle with his heart, always giving and cherishing him and eroding away at his hard edges, giving you this last part of him was nothing shy of surrendering fully to your love.
“Oh- Pero look at that island!” Green and lush forests ahead were shimmering with wilding magic, your eyes widening in further delight as several water-born dragons breached the sea’s surface to bellow out a greeting to him before diving back into the dark waters, and the earthen dragons stretched up to wave as he flew over. You delighted in the way their movement revealed that the things you’d thought as landscape were living beings, one such earthen dragon stretching out and revealing that it wasn’t a cliff you’d flown over.
“This is amazing! Is this your home?” His rumbled agreement made you let out a little sigh of delight, several air attuned dragons appearing out of the clouds to weave around him; he grumbled a warning and the youngest few backed off, only the elder responded with a rumble of her own but she too waved and returned to looping around the clouds like her offspring. The warmth of the volcano ahead sent him smiling, his own fire-attuned brethren perking up, and Pero heard the loud and familiar call of his mother.
His roar of a reply earned several echoed cries as his clutch siblings watched him fly overhead, your little squeak as he abruptly dove into the mouth of the volcano making him chuckle, and he slowed his descent to glide gently into his dreyerie before changing forms to his bipedal body. His thumb brushed away a smear of water from the clouds and soot from the air, making you laugh lightly, and he couldn’t help but capture your lips in a kiss that you happily responded to.
“So this is the little saint? I don’t know what’s more impressive, that you found anyone who can put up with your attitude or that you found someone pretty who can tolerate you, mijo.” His mother’s disruption made you step back and Pero turned to see that she was smiling, there was pride in her eyes and relief speared through him, he would never admit it to anyone but he had wanted his mama’s approval.
“Oh, I’m no-“
“You do not need to tell me he isn’t a challenge, I raised the boy, but I am pleased that he is not alone any longer. Welcome to our home, your home, mija.” Pero watched as his mother captured your hands and pressed a kiss to your forehead, the spell of protection that would allow you to enter this place even without him and ensure the volcano would never harm you, and he hated that such easy acceptance made his eyes water.
After promising to join his mother and siblings for an evening meal he found himself alone with you at last, your eyes bright with tears of your own, and your heartbeat thundering as you smiled at him.
“Your mother is very kind, and energetic, Pero. I really like her.” He preened at the response, unable to help himself, he was proud of his roots and knowing that you liked his kin was enough to soothe most of his secret worries. He captured your hand in his and tugged, allowing you to follow after him, and you peered around the large open space that made up his real home. Your eyes traced the shining crystals that lined the very walls, the volcanic sand superheated into a cavern of luminescent obsidian prisms, and then onto his treasures.
“What is- this is moonspun silk?” The bolts of fabric were all stacked neatly and shimmering with a silver glow, the silk could only be crafted by a Priestess of the Huntress during the full moon and was exceedingly rare, and he’d never had a use for the material given its delicate nature. Until he met you, of course, Pero had considered asking a tailor to use the fabric to craft you clothes but had not done so just yet. Your eyes found the long wooden planter and you gasped, the vibrant array of rainbow petaled flowers adding color and life to his home.
“Prism lilies, these were said to only thrive among the Diminutive Fey courts.” He nodded and you took in the opulent carpets, the very large array of custom swords and even his spare sets of armor all made his scales he had shed over his lifetime.
Each item held something more personal to him than the wealth, the cloth had come from a priestess who he had saved from being raped and held captive by several dark sorcerers long ago when she was still a child. The flowers had been given to him with the planter because he’d helped slay an Ent taken by disease that couldn’t be killed by the Diminutive Fey. The swords came from dwarven smithies that had needed his flame to replenish their forge, the armor from scales shed during battles he and his kin fought to protect this land from the wyverns and Ancient dragons.
All of these things were more than just wealth to him, they were reminders of the good he had been able to do in his life. Watching you take them in, to see the things he truly felt the most proud of with such a smile, made his heart leap. He couldn’t help but capture you in an embrace, begin telling you the story of each item, and Pero watched you take every item with a new respect.
“There is something more precious than all of these things.” His comment made you turn and the light from the few charmed crystals reflecting off the obsidian walls caught you in a way that created a halo around you. It was a breathtaking image that he would cherish for the entirety of his life.
“There is?” Your eyes danced with delight as you turned to look around, to see what you might have missed, and Pero guided you to the large section of obsidian that was smooth and flat. His reflection and yours staring back at you both.
“Sí, is is you, mi amor.” Tears gathered in your eyes and Pero leaned into the kiss you gifted him, pressing you into the crystal surface when you dragged him back, and heat ignited under his skin just having you here in his home with his kin. For now you were here safe, protected, and you were his.
#chaoticwrites#iridescence fictional universe#precious sea glass#pero tovar x reader#pero tovar x f!reader#dragon!pero#nereid f!reader
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Hiii Gina, hope you're having a lovely week. I'm wondering if you know of any fics where H or L go into early heat or rut because of the other. I've read a couple and they were really good.
Hi darling. My week is good. Thank you for asking! I know I’ve read a number of fics with that detail, but I guess the fics as a whole didn’t do it for me (or my memory is failing me) since my list for you is pretty short. But here you go!
Seeing Blind by zedi (E, 47K) I really liked the way this author gave a twist to both Omega Harry and Alpha Louis’ characteristics. It’s a whole lot of smut and miscommunication and, of course, a happy ending.
Light, Spark and Fire by green_feelings / @greenfeelings (E, WIP, 3-part series, 168K so far) I haven’t read all of this because it’s a WIP, but friends have told me they’re really enjoying it and I know there’s an early heat scene in this one.
I had to go ask @cuethetommo who seems to have read way more ABO than I have, so these are her suggestions (thank you, Liz!!):
This I Want, Things I Need by iwillpaintasongforlou (E, 15K)
Most people don't find out whether they're an alpha, beta, or omega until somewhere around their eighteenth year, which means Louis finds out he's an omega long before his best friend and sometimes lover Harry will get a clue. Zayn is the loyal alpha friend who takes care of Louis during his heats. Liam is Zayn's beta mate, Niall tries to keep the peace, and Harry just wants to know what he is already.
how many nights did I crash against the waves by Blake (M, 2K)
Louis is going into heat and Harry thinks it's hot.
Pretty Please (With Sugar On Top) by @angelichl (E, 114K)
Harry is a sugar baby omega who cons rich alphas for a living. Louis is a rich alpha with too much self-control.
like the earth around the sun by goodorninglou (E, 24K)
“Maybe we just...” Louis hid his face in Harry’s neck and choked down a whimper. “Roll with it? It has to, like, die down after a bit, right? And we can figure out how to stop it when it’s not so... intense. Right?”
Say yes. I need you to say yes. I need you to agree with me.
Harry’s hand sweeps calming strokes up and down his side, wide and warm. His thumb bumped over the ridges of his ribs.
“Whatever you need, Louis.” Harry assured. Louis knows with morbid certainty that he’d wanted to say Omega, and it sends shivers sparking down his spine.
He shut his eyes against Harry’s skin and suffocated the sigh building in his chest.
Or, the one where Harry bursts in on Louis in heat and things only get more complicated from there.
i don’t wanna be your friend, i wanna kiss your neck by crybaby (E, 20K)
Harry has been in love with Louis Tomlinson for four years, five months, and thirteen days.
Harry had fallen in love with Louis Tomlinson like how he’d seen in movies, and how he’d read in all the books he’d stolen from Gemma, headfirst and shameless.
The only problem was, that in films and books, love was always either returned instantly, or else it took time for unrequited love to lose the first two letters, and since the first option was obviously not true, Harry decided he would wait for the second to become reality.
And so Harry waited, three years, eight months, and four days, before his heart had been broken by a gentle rejection and a misplaced blowjob, before Louis and Gemma had packed up and gone to Manchester for university.
(Harry is a hopelessly romantic omega and Louis is his sister's best friend)
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“Golden”
Peter Parker x SHIELD Agent! Reader
NSFW
Warnings: Smut and fluff
You wake up in Peter's arms.
Part of the "Fine line" series, but you don't need to read that to understand this.
SERIES MASTERLIST
Peter woke up to the smell of your coconut shampoo and the feeling of sunshine on his skin, your warm weight tucked into his side, and for a minute it was summertime, and he was back on a desert island alone with you.
But it wasn't summer anymore, and you were no longer the only two people in the world, as he was reminded of as soon as he opened his eyes and saw the angry bruises on your, otherwise lovely, naked back. You had sneaked into his bed well after midnight the night before, battered and exhausted after your last mission, hair still wet after your shower. He had held you, laying awake in the dark for hours, hating the fact that he couldn't help you. He didn't have enough clearance to even know what you were up against, but he suspected it was a little bigger than his usual Queen's thugs. And you didn't have superpowers, or super-healing like him. But that wasn't going to stop you.
Now, in the morning light, he was blown away once again by how brave you were, how badass and brilliant. He had always known you were too good, that you shone way too bright for a broken boy like him. But you had spoiled him too much, made him too selfish to be able to let you go. So he kept holding onto you, his own personal sun, basking in your glow, letting you brown his skin just right.
He placed a soft, barely there kiss on a bruise at the back of your shoulder, and another one right on your spine. And another one, lower on your back when the rhythm of your breathing changed as you stirred under his ministrations. The first thing you were aware of waking up was his smile against your bare skin.
You sighed in contentment,
"Peter?"
He chuckled softly,
"Who else could I be, cherry?"
A pair of ocean eyes flickered through your mind's eye. You shook the thought quickly. You tried to turn to face your boyfriend, but his hand on your hips stopped you.
"What are you doing?" You demanded. A yelp left your lips when his only answer was a piercing bite on your left butt cheek. He quickly soothed the sting with his tongue, sucking and massaging your supple flesh until he felt you relax. He parted from your skin to reach towards the headboard, grabbing a pillow and bringing it down until it was next to your hips.
"Turn around for me, baby, on your stomach" He requested. You obeyed, laying there, on your belly, butt up in the air supported by the pillow underneath you. Defenseless and exposed, all for him.
"What are you going to do to me?" All the sleepiness was gone from your voice, as you tried to get a peak at your boyfriend above your shoulder.
"I wanna take care of you" He replied, hands trailing up and down the back of your legs, "Will you let me take care of you, sunflower?"
You nodded your surrender to him, and felt his hands push your legs apart. He settled between them, greedy fingers digging into your thighs. Gossebumps broke on your skin at the first lap of his wicked tongue on your folds, twin moans leaving your lips, but for very different reasons.
"I'll never get over the way you taste" he whispered against your skin, "you are delicious, baby girl… I wonder if you're this delicious everywhere…"
You didn't have time to think about the meaning of his words, as he dove right in, sucking and licking, working you so expertely that it only took a couple of minutes before he could slide two fingers inside your wet, velvety heat, easily, your body offering no resistance.
You were putty under his tongue and teeth and fingers, trying in vain to muffle your sobs against the mattress, hands clutching at the sheets when you felt it: Soft, moist lips, reverently kissing your tightest hole. Your hips jumped of their own volition, and he had to bring down one of his forearms across your lower back to keep you in place, pinned to his bed.
"Pe-peter!" Your scandalized voice, your sudden shyness, felt like a triumph. You had been his first everything, but now, he had found something new to you. Something you hadn't done with anyone else, and he knew to you it didn't mean much, 'the first is just the one that comes before the second' you had said once, but to him it meant the world. He did it again, and this time there was no disguising your moan when his tongue came out, placing little kitten licks on the firm ring of muscle. His thumb flickered your clit, and you relaxed again, allowing him to bury his face deeper.
"Just like that, let go baby girl"
There it was again, your new nickname, the title that had once belonged to him, when he was still a clueless, eager boy, desperate to please, but never disciplined enough to be a good sub. Didn't matter, he knew now how to please you, even in ways you didn't even know yourself. Confident enough to be demanding, to take control. And you trusted him enough to give it to him.
You stopped resisting, releasing the tension you didn't even know you were keeping, melting completely into the bed. His arm stopped holding you still, now free to trail tender touches along your legs, your butt, your sides. He flattened his tongue, placing a long lick, from where his fingers kept disappearing in and out of you, all the way to the top of your ass.
He continued to kiss along your spine, mindful of your injuries, crawling up your body. He chuckled softly at the little disappointed noise you made when you realized it was over, even before his fingers left your softness to help support his weight.
"You're perfect, Sixteen," his warm breath ghosted along your neck, "everywhere"
Peter rested his forehead on your shoulder as he sank his length into you, effortlessly, naturally, without even needing to use his hand to guide the way.
Like pieces of a puzzle falling into place. He didn't need any Island, that right there, your body under his, was his perfect oasis. He started rocking his hips, gyrating them in an out in an eight figure, fucking into you deeply but delicately. There was intensity in his movements, force but no aggressiveness, no violence, as he owned you in a completely new way. He kept his weight off your back, careful of not aggravating your wounds. The drag of his cock so deep, so measured in his movements, let you feel perfectly every ridge and vein, electrifying you and the friction on your clit against the pillow still under you, were creating a whole different storm of sensations.
"Please" you begged, brokenly, "Daddy, please"
He growled, loving the way the word sounded from your lips.
"What do you need baby girl?"
But you could only repeat the same plea over and over again, your vocabulary limited to those two words as Peter fucked your brains out in the most exquisite, careful way in the universe.
"It's ok baby girl… keep on begging… love the way you beg" His voice was husky, letting you know how close he was too, "Love the way you take my cock… love the way you taste" his tongue came out once again, tasting the drops of sweat at the back of your neck, sending another wave of pleasure crashing through your body.
"Love all of you, Sixteen…" his lips found the shell of your ear, as he came undone inside you, "I love you"
It was all it took. You came harder than you ever had, the strength of your grip around him triggering a second release, his high pitched moan resonating in your ear. Peter collapsed next to you on the bed, under your astonished eyes, your heart pounding inside your chest too hard for you to rest. You should know better than to take seriously words said in the heat of the moment, you knew you should. But this was Peter, the boy that wore his heart on his sleeve for all the world to see, even if that world didn't deserve it. The boy that remained soft, and good and warm like the sun, even after all the suffering, all the loss, all of fate's attempts at suffocating that light.
"Your heart is beating so fast, it sounds like a hummingbird" He commented, lazily opening his eyes, and his arms, "Come here"
You inched closer until he could wrap his strong arms around you, tucking your face into his neck. You were scared, he could tell, probably thinking he hadn't really meant it. Or, much more likely, to the intensity of your own feelings towards him. Because there was no denying the way you had fallen apart the second the words left his lips.
"I meant it." He whispered into your hair, "You don't have to say it back if you're not ready, I know you feel it too. And I know you're afraid, but you don't have to..."
You raised your head, meeting his eyes. The morning light casting them in a golden glow, like sunshine through a glass of whiskey. He was beautiful.
"I won't break your heart, Six. I promise"
And for a moment, you let yourself believe him. For a moment, there, laying in his arms, cocooned by daylight, you let yourself believe you wouldn't break his either.
To be continued...
#peter parker#peter parker x reader#peter parker imagine#peter parker smut#peter parker reader smut#peter parker fanfiction#peter parker fanfic#spider man#spiderman smut#tom holland#tom holland x reader#tom holland smut#tom holland reader smut#tom holland fanfiction#hot tom holland imagine#soft tom holland imagine#tom holland imagine
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Book One of...
Story: 3 out of 5
Smut: 5 out of 5
What.. the.. hell. I was expecting a bully romance set during the college years, but Spine Ridge University is not your average university.
At first, I wasn’t sure how I felt about this book because the violence felt like it was too extreme for some college kids. But after wrapping my mind around what Spine Ridge actually is, I was able to enjoy it all and root for the girl avenging her sister.
Not only is the smut intense, but the secrets and betrayal will keep you turning page after page.
Now here are my rambling thoughts..
* Goddamn. The prologue just jumped right into it, huh.
* Oh wow. She witnessed her sister commit suicide 😬 and in her last text, she warned her away from our three main boys. wtf is going on?
* She’s never even met these boys and they know her name? Suspicious…
* These guys are kind of intense, no? She ended up stabbing one with a pen and kicking him in the balls 😂
* Damn. They ransacked her room for a diary they think is hers. But really, it belongs to the dead sister. What fucking secrets are they so desperate to keep?
* Damn. Brutal face fucking… I’m not sure how I feel about that lol.
* Lmao. She sliced Felix and kicked Dylan in the nuts. Again. And then threw a chair at Alistair before pulling the fire alarm and escaping 😂
* Wow. They really chased her in the woods, wearing masks, and coated her in cum 👀
* Felix is a major dick. Please tell me he eases up some 😒
* Ohhh. We finally got the “touch her and die” vibe. But only after they pulled a dick move with the dead sister’s diary.
* Damn. Felix really tortured Nathan. And then let him walk.
* I need to know their connection to the dead sister! If they fucked her too, then this situation with Penelope is kinda fucked.
* Is Alistair my bb now? I think so. Even if he confuses the fuck out of me lol.
* She had a suicide pact with her sister and Felix thought she was responsible for her sister’s death? wtf.
* Oh fuck. Dylan and Alistair and Penelope in the hot spring 🥵
* Who the fuck do these Phantom asshole think they are? They really attacked Dylan, Alistair, and Penelope and thought they’d get away with it?
* Also, I love the violence but it’s a little far fetched for these young college kids to be this crazy.
* All three of them filled her. Wow.
* Why the fuck is Felix so jealous?! I thought this was a “why choose”?
* Oh fuck. They found a body. And Nathan’s little bitch ass is gloating that the police are involved now.
* Jesus Christ. Penelope really took a gamble telling half truths and half lies about the body. They’re so lucky.
* And now Felix’s jealousy kicked in. Again.
* Awkward family dinner from hell.
* “Ride my face like you own it.” — Alistair 🤭
* Felix is such a grumpy shit when around Penelope’s friends 😂 but why the invite to Club Rivera? What is he planning?
* Wooowww. They were in a relationship with her sister. Fuck that. I’d stop everything then and there.
* They fucked around in a cemetery 🤦🏻♀️
* Damn. She got kicked out of the sorority because someone set a fire and left her name taped to a firework. Who’s fucking with her?
* So the sister jumped because of a breakup?
* Ouch. Penelope is gonna end things with them, huh. At least for now she will.
* Oh fuck. Felix, what did you do 🤦🏻♀️
* The fucking dean?! Dylan’s father is who pushed the sister to jump?!
* Ricci family..? wtf. Is her family some crime family too?! I always wondered why her dad was cool with her going to the school where his eldest committed suicide. They sent her to find answers.
* SHE WAS PREGNANT!!! Now her suicide is really fucked up.
* She set the school on fire 😂
* Goddamn. She played them all.
* “Tell me what you need. Be specific.” // “Hurt him. Scar him where it hurts the most.” // His face darkens in a way that only happens when he’s on a murder spree, and he grabs her hand and slowly brings it to his lips, pressing a kiss on top as though he’s dealing a deal. “I’ll bring him fucking hell for you.”
* Goddamn. It’s a mafia war in a fraternity house.
* Ding dong, the dean is dead.
* Holy shit. She’s in charge now. She’s making the boys watch as she fucks herself and the boys can’t touch.
* “You. Crawl to me.” —- 🥵
* Goddamn. That was some major dicking down lol.
* Awww. They tattooed each other’s names on each other.
#spine ridge university series#booktok book review#book review#sick boys#clarissa wild#romance#bully romance#mafia romance#penelope richards#penelope ricci#dylan caruso#alistair king#felix rivera#dark romance
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Lie Alone
A/N In commenting on the last installment in the Metric universe, I said that Jamie’s date with Claire was complete dating wish fulfillment on my part. Which got me thinking about their next date and what other personal preferences I could cram into this story. And yet it’s definitely Claire’s turn to take Jamie for a spin, which meant that... well, you’ll see!
All other parts of the Metric Universe are available on my AO3 page.
The song by Blanco White (another guest artist!) that inspired the title and which features in the fic can be heard here: https://youtu.be/SNp7sb5vXTs
Big shout out to @holdhertightandsayhername, who introduced me to this artist in her marvelous fic The Sands of Time.
June 21, 2018, London, England
Sassench: Do you have plans later Fraser?
Wee Fox Cub: depends r u making a better pffer?
Sassench: Meet me out front at Joe’s. 5pm.
Wee Fox Cub: :thumbs up emoji:
Sassench: And Jamie? Wear something tight. Preferably leather.
Wee Fox Cub: ...
***
He couldn’t imagine what Claire had in mind, but he’d cancelled his plans to watch the England South Africa test match with the lads and was instead haunting the kerb in front of her temporary lodging, wearing fitted black jeans and his leather jacket, despite the sunny mid-summer weather. When his date hadn’t emerged from the building by 4:05, he pulled out his phone. An approaching mechanical thrum interrupted him mid-text.
The first thing he noticed were her boots: black, with a thick rubber sole and chunky heel. These were zipped over leather pants that clung to her coltish legs like a second skin, matching the matte gleam of the motor between them. A leather jacket, the tailored twin of his own, hugged her narrow waist. By the time his eyes had scrolled upward, a visored helmet was being removed, and Claire’s familiar hair and teasing brass eyes appeared.
“You’re staring, Jamie,” she remarked. The fact that the voice was his roommate’s usual no-nonsense tone, seasoned with a touch of humour, was a necessary dash of reality.
“Aye,” he admitted. “Tis a verra beautiful... machine ye’re ridin’, Sassenach. Is it yers?”
Her curls danced in the sunlight as she shook them out.
“God, no. Joe only let me borrow it after I promised to cover his next two on-call shifts. But don’t worry! I practically grew up on a motorcycle. I’ve had my license since I was sixteen.”
He filed this information away in the cluttered part of brain entitled Things I Never Expected to Learn about Claire Beauchamp. Accepting a second helmet, he swung himself onto the seat behind her. His legs bracketed her hips in an unfamiliar, but by no means unpleasant, inversion. Claire revved the motor, sending a shiver up his spine. His arms wrapped around her waist, and they pulled into the slow flow of traffic.
“Comfy?” Her voice startled him, low and intimate, coming from directly behind his ear. He realized belatedly that the helmets were furnished with a communications system.
“Aye,” he asserted, although comfortable wasn’t exactly the word he’d use for his current state. Somewhere between apprehensive and exhilarated would be more accurate. “Will we make it tae our destination afore sundown, do ye think?”
She chuckled warmly, reaching back with one hand to tap him on the knee.
“Never you fear, my lad. I have our urban escape route all planned out. We’ll be flying in no time.”
She wasn’t wrong. After a series of abrupt stops and starts, they dipped below the Thames in a well-lit tunnel, the echo of passing lorries muting all other sound. Soon after that they were picking up speed on a wide motorway, the bike crouching against the wind. He watched the throbbing mass of the city peel away, slowly giving way to greenery and the pastel light he associated with freedom. He thought they were heading south along the Orbital into Surrey, but beyond that he had no notion of their whereabouts.
Giving himself up into her care, he settled against Claire’s back, the crescent of her arse fitting neatly into the bowl of his thighs. He was aware of being aroused, but it was a hazy rather than a sharp feeling, blunted by contentment. If Claire was offended by the firmness pressing into her rump, she gave no sign.
After several hours of almost meditative motion, they turned onto a country lane, overhung by a leafy canopy. Tidy Tudor buildings overlooked the road, their leaden windows glowing orange in the setting sun. Their motorcycle joined a parade of vehicles ascending a low hill in a series of sharp turns. Each time the bike navigated one of these, he was forced to tighten his grip on Claire’s torso, which by now felt like an extension of his own body. He glowed like one of those panes of glass, molten and reflecting back the warmth that radiated from the core of who she was.
The forest thinned into green hillside as they reached a parking lot. He couldn’t help but feel disappointment as he observed the crowds. Wherever they were, it was obviously a popular destination. On the bike, he’d felt peculiarly isolated, alone with Claire, their conversation eased by the intermediary of the microphones. Now he’d have to share her with the world.
He groaned as he unfolded his long legs to stand upright, and Claire grinned.
“They don’t make motorcycles in your size, I’m afraid.”
“An’ wha’ size is that, Sassenach?” he hummed suggestively while stretching his arms high above his head, untucking his shirt in the process.
Claire’s eyes dipped to where his belly was briefly exposed, then lower.
“Large,” was her bold answer, and he shot her a wickedly pleased glance.
After a beat she visibly gathered herself, reaching into the storage compartment behind where he had been sitting and pulling out a small bag and his plaid, which had somehow stayed in her possession after the fire.
“Are you up for a short hike?”
“For ye, Sassenach, anything.”
They meandered through an oak wood, then up a series of crude steps, until finally arriving on a grassy slope, the land falling away steeply to the south. Low ridges and shallow valleys furled below them like gentle waves, reaching out to the horizon where the sun was preparing to set. The air was fragrant, the ground releasing the heat of the day.
“One of my many boarding schools wasn’t far from here,” Claire explained as she spread the blanket near their feet. “I must have been fourteen or so, and having a terrible time fitting in. Uncle Lamb came to visit, probably at the headmaster’s behest, and this is where he took me. I don’t remember what he said, but by the time we left, I felt better. More at peace. In lockstep with the larger order of things. I’ve come back, now and then. Any time I needed to find that feeling again.”
As she spoke, Claire emptied the small bag of its contents. He recognized the logo from a deli they both frequented on two wrapped sandwiches, along with a pint of strawberries, some crisps, a lemonade and a bottle of his favourite summer ale. She’d thought of everything, and it snagged at his heart.
“Tis bonnie. I’m honoured ye wanted tae share it with me, Sassenach.”
They ate slowly, savouring the simple meal as the sky above their heads smudged from orange to pink to ever-deepening shades of purple. One by one, the stars twinkled to life, like so many travelers lighting their fires for the night. Away from the city, they numbered in the thousands, each a signpost on someone’s journey. His mind spread out to fill the space between them, taking his thoughts to Lallybroch, moments from his youth long forgotten, the steadying hand of his parent’s guidance. Claire was right. Something about the place invited serenity. He sighed with pleasure, tension he hadn’t even acknowledged draining slowly down his spine.
Claire’s hand crept across the blanket, and their pinkie fingers met, then overlapped. As the air around them cooled, the breeze picked up, and he felt her shiver.
“Ye’re cold. We should be on our way, aye?”
“Wait. There’s one more thing I want you to see.”
He could think of several more things he wanted to see, but they were well hidden by leather and her guarded nature. He’d known when he proposed this season of courtship that the road to Claire’s heart would be long and arduous, with many twists and lay-bys. There could be no rushing the voyage. He was confident the destination, should he be granted entry, would be worth any hardship. And thankfully the views along the way were spectacular in their own right.
He’d been watching her profile out of the corner of his eye when the horizon burst into multi-coloured song. Purple starbursts and red streamers exploded across a black canvas, followed by a pulsing yellow orb. In the milliseconds before his consciousness caught up with the evidence, he was captivated. Then he physically recoiled, expecting pain in the form of a cascade of memories. Instead, the symphony of light continued without a sound. He looked at Claire in awe.
“The wind is to the north, so it’s blowing the sound in the other direction. I checked before I picked you up,” she explained.
The fireworks continued for another ten or fifteen minutes. He’d never be quite sure, because he was lost in sensation. The beautiful display was completely over-shadowed by the beauty of the woman beside him, her tiny finger still laced with his own.
“Ye ken tis I who’s supposed tae be courtin’ ye, don’t ye, Sassenach?” he commented when a final fury of light gave way once again to stars.
“Says who?” she sniffed, but he could see the corner of her mouth twitch upwards.
After performing a mental inventory of any and all physical impediments, he leaned slowly into her side, his intention unmistakable. His heart thrilled when Claire met him halfway, her mouth damp and tart from the lemonade. It was a kiss that walked the boundary between chaste and sensual, and he wished it could last forever.
“Thank ye, Claire. Truly.”
At a loss for words for once, she dipped her head in acknowledgement. They silently gathered their things and walked hand-in-hand to the bike.
The ride back to London was swift, with music taking the place of conversation. A particularly beautiful song, poetic and wistful, left him feeling that Claire was speaking to him through its words; words she could not yet find the courage to say. Accompanied by only a single guitar, a male voice rose in wistful intensity.
So I lie alone, and risk each night, I long to let you in
But there's a life I lost, drifted out, before
You let me in.
His fingers found their way beneath her jacket and rested on the warm skin of her belly. He felt her soft skin give a shudder, like a ripple of wind across the still surface of a pond.
The motorway ribboned out beneath them. The journey had only just begun.
*
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Because this is a multi-disciplinary blog, here’s a shot of the view that Jamie and Claire enjoyed in this fic, which is Box Hill in Surrey (taken from Google Earth, as I’ve never been).
And here’s Claire’s bike!
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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
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Bulletproof -- Part Thirteen
Fandom: Marvel/College AU
Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader, Platonic!Steve Rogers x Reader
Characters: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers
Author: @amandaoftherosemire
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 5,147
Format: Series (Complete)
Warnings: Smut, NSFW, 18+ only, fluff.
Summary: You and Bucky end up back in bed, but you talk, too.
A/N: More communication! Considering how many people loved the little bit that was in the last chapter, y’all are gonna like this. We’re heading towards the end of the story now, but I’ve still got a few loose ends to tie up, so expect more fluff in the meantime. It’s the least I can do after all the angst in the beginning.
Banner by @hellzzzbelle
Part Twelve here
Part Thirteen
You were lost in a world of soft touches and even softer sighs. Bucky's bed had become a golden paradise where you were the center of the universe. At least, he was making you feel like you were, like the world had become a place where Bucky's heart had run away with him. He was currently worshipping the back of your neck and shoulders with his lips as his fingers traced gentle adorations along your spine. But it was the words he was whispering against your skin that made you tremble.
You'd already ridden you both to a swift but joyous climax in the recliner, fully clothed, underwear merely pushed to the side. You'd hardly caught your breath before Bucky was scooping you up and carrying you to his bedroom. Once he'd deposited you in his bed and locked the door, he went about beginning the job of slowly making love to you.
You were still mostly wearing your dress because after Bucky had unzipped you, he'd stopped you from rolling back over, spreading the fabric wide to press his lips to the skin he'd bared. He wanted to take his time, savor everything as he started making all of the promises he’d been saving for you. He could give them to you now; he was almost sure you'd accept them.
"You have the softest skin, babygirl," he murmured as his lips sent goosebumps rippling out from where he was speaking against the nape of your neck. "It haunts my dreams." His voice was warm with appreciation, making it clear he didn't mind. "You don't need to worry about anyone or anything, y/n, least of all Lilah Robbins." He scoffed a little. "I can't even see anyone but you."
He pressed soft, generous open-mouthed kisses along the back of your shoulders and the nape of your neck and damned if you knew why it was sending shivers down your spine to your clenching core. His hand, however, was traveling up the backs of your thighs and under your skirt.
"Bug." You said it firmly, almost swept away in the velvet of his voice, the promise in his tone, and needing to get some things clear before you got distracted by how sexy he was, again. You rolled to your back to find him looking surprised and worried. "Steve and I gossip about you."
His face relaxed into an unsurprised half-smile. "And Steve and I gossip about you," he retorted, leaning over you, braced on his metal arm under your neck, his other hand sliding up to your neck to tug at the bodice of your dress. "Water is wet, fire is hot. Your point?"
You crossed your arms to stop the dress from going any further, but Bucky seemed content to trace the curve of your collarbone with the tips of his fingers for the moment. As a matter of fact, he was. He’d never be able to explain his thing for your shoulders, aside from he simply thought they were pretty, but that didn’t change the fact that he had one.
"He told me," you said sternly, needing to clarify this point before you let yourself fall any deeper, "that you said you didn't get involved because you didn't think you could be faithful."
"Not as long as you exist, babygirl." His eyes flicked up to yours and though the words were flirtatious, the tone, his expression, were utterly sincere. At your look of confusion, his face melted into a grateful smile. He could see on your face that you were really listening to him, that you'd believe what he said. The joy of it was almost painful.
"I don't get involved because I couldn't promise anyone that I wouldn't go running if you ever looked my way." At your look of wry disbelief, his eyes narrowed, and his hand tightened around your shoulder. "In a New York fucking minute, doll," he growled. "I'm yours. I've always been yours, even when I wasn't ready to deal with that yet."
You held your breath, afraid to speak, afraid to move, hardly able to believe it'd be this easy. You'd never expected to be handed everything you wanted simply because you dared ask for it.
Bucky mistook your silence for skepticism, continuing to speak in the hopes that he could make you understand, help you see. "But you?" It seemed his heart was in his eyes, but you couldn't be sure you didn't have stars in yours. "Even if I could imagine wanting anyone or anything as much as I want you," he broke off to press a kiss both passionate and tender to your mouth, "I'd never hurt you like that." The word never was a promise, spoken against your lips, his trembling with emotion, before he was sinking in again.
You were breathless, your heart pounding like a drum. You were drowning in the warm golden glow of your personal paradise, seduced in all new ways by Bucky's mouth. Only one thought drifted to the surface to distract you. You broke the kiss, bracing your hands against his shoulders to push him back a bare inch.
"Why didn't you ever say anything?" You asked the question without accusation, the confusion real. You wanted to believe Bucky, wanted to believe that he was sincere in his feelings for you, but his behavior made no sense.
Bucky's face flamed when he thought of the conversation he'd had with his best friend about you. Steve had done a terrible job of hiding his exasperated amusement when he'd discovered he'd been an unintentional rival, at least in Bucky's head. Discovering that you and Steve had long ago placed your relationship on a firmly platonic footing had made Bucky curse himself thoroughly.
Having most of the information had allowed him to re-examine the last several months with a new perspective. From the sketchbook he’d found to the many conversations he’d overheard from your living room, once he looked at everything anew, he had been forced to come to an unfortunate conclusion.
He was an idiot who had absolutely no idea what was going on. The only thing for it was to tell you the truth and hope for the best.
"I thought Steve was in love with you." He hated to admit to it, felt like an asshole, but he knew he had to be honest with you if he wanted you to give him a chance. The sneer forming on your face made his lips twitch, regardless. "You seemed like you'd be so good together; I didn't want to get in the way."
You weren't angry, simply baffled. "Why would you think that?" Your voice held a wealth of confusion, as you couldn't see that you or Steve had ever seemed the least bit interested in one another, at least after your mutual obligatory high school crushes were over.
Bucky laughed a little and took his courage in both hands. He could tell by your reaction that you were no more in love with Steve than he was with you. If he didn't tell you how he felt now, he'd regret it the rest of his life. His hand resting lightly against the side of your throat, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw, he looked into your eyes and spoke only the truth. "I know how easy it is to fall in love with you. I started the first time you smiled at me, and I don't think I've ever stopped."
Your breath caught. There was no mistaking meaning or sentiment in a statement that baldly honest. Your heart began to gallop as you pushed an astonished Bucky Barnes over onto his back to climb on top of him. His look of confusion was replaced by a burning adoration as you settled down, a knee on either side of his hips as your mouth came down onto his.
As you began to devour him, his hands closed around your hips. He wasn't disappointed by your reaction, but he had been hoping you might respond in kind. You may not love him yet; he was simply grateful that you seemed willing to be persuaded.
Bucky reminded himself to be patient, even as he basked in the experience of being devoured by you. He’d never thought to have you kiss him like you needed his breath to live. Now that he had, he was certain he was living his best day ever.
He was so busy reminding himself to be patient, glorying in you, he didn't understand what you were saying at first when you tore your mouth from his to kiss and suck at his throat. Your hands slid up inside his shirt to start working at getting him naked, as you sighed into his ear, your voice an ache. "I told myself a thousand times not to fall in love with you."
Once you started talking, you needed to say it right. You lifted up until you were looking into Bucky's eyes, bracing your hands on his stomach to trace the ridges of muscle there, but close enough that you could tempt yourself with his mouth. He gazed silently up at you, mesmerized by the smile on your face as you brushed your mouth over his. "I told myself a thousand times you weren't for me." You laughed a little, huskily. "I'm so glad I don't listen to anyone, even myself."
Bucky was having a hard time understanding you were saying what he thought you were saying. He wanted so badly to believe that you might someday feel how he felt, he couldn't easily accept it was already be within his grasp. Until your eyes were burning into his and he was seeing everything he'd dreamed of, he hadn't known love could feel like it could stop the heart.
"I love you, too, Bucky." Your voice was nearly a whisper, but in it he heard everything he'd been aching for… "Sometimes I feel like I've been in love with you my whole damn life.” …his whole damn life.
Bucky's arms banded tight around you at the same moment your mouth came down on his once more, his hand cupping the back of your head to tilt your mouth for the best angle for his. He didn't realize he was tearing at your dress until you were dragging it off over your head and flinging it away with a laugh and love was stopping his heart again.
"Can't believe you thought me and Steve could be a thing," you snickered as he tumbled you over onto your back. He could only stare in delighted wonder as you lay in your miniscule bra and underwear, making retching noises as you giggled. He was certain he'd never been happier in his life than he was in this moment.
“Why not?” Bucky grinned down at you, his hand coming up to cup your laughing face, his fingers gentle against the skin of your cheek. The sight of you, happy and shining with love, laying in his bed, his arms, dazzled him. “You're both hot. You told me last night you love him.”
“I do.” Your face took on that same sweet purity he'd seen in Steve's smile when he spoke about his love for you. He couldn't help but note that your face had not been pure, but full of earthly, earthy lust when you'd told Bucky you loved him. His heart soared as he finally understood the difference, understood that he’d never been able to stand between you and Steve because it wasn’t about that. You could love them both, with all of your generous heart; it didn’t have to be a competition.
The next moment, you were dissolving into amusement, snorting, “That doesn’t mean I want to nail him.” Your eyes widened in dismay as you looked up into Bucky's grinning face. “Please don’t tell me you came back here and confronted him.”
Bucky's eyes flicked away and back at the reminder of things he wasn't supposed to know. “Not exactly.” He could feel the heat climbing up his neck as he tried to avoid selling out his friend while also being honest with you. “We talked it out.” That was putting it mildly. Steve had reacted with some amusement but plenty of compassion once he understood that Bucky was crazy-stupid-head-over-heels-in-love with you and that he’d been torturing himself with guilt that he was stealing his best friend’s girl.
That meant Steve had leaked like a sieve. He hadn’t divulged anything you’d said or confided, but he’d told almost everything about the project itself. He’d also tried to be as encouraging as he possibly could without breaking your confidence, but he was about as subtle as neon. Bucky’s insecurities had been the only thing standing in the way of seeing right through Steve.
Until you showed up at his door looking like high-class sin and given him everything. Hindsight gave him a much better understanding of his friend’s words and demeanor. He would never betray Steve, no matter what.
Your eyes narrowed. Between the blush and the averted eyes, you immediately suspected he and Steve were up to something. You knew him too well to not know when he was keeping secrets. You rolled your eyes, but your heart was racing as you asked a half-serious, half-teasing question, a little terrified you were misinterpreting. "Are you sure you're up for being my boyfriend? I already know all of your tells and you’re not telling me something.”
The word 'boyfriend' had Bucky's breath catching. He leaned over to kiss you, his mouth firm and warm against yours. He felt like his heart was in this throat but also like it was shining out of his chest. When he lifted his head, your eyes fluttered open to smile into his. Sultrily, you linked your hands behind his neck. "Kissing me won't distract me, but you should definitely keep trying."
The teasing light in your eyes drew him in until he felt like he was falling in love with you all over again. He kissed you again, quick and happy. His bright blue eyes beamed into yours, the crinkles at the corners making his smile so sweet it made your throat ache. His voice was firm, and completely serious, however, as he purred, "Babygirl, I am absolutely up for being your boyfriend."
Your smile as you drew him down was bright and happy, as was the sweet, generous kiss he willingly sank into. He devoured you gently, his lips clinging to yours, his tongue sweeping between your lips to deepen the kiss with a hum of pleasure. You buried your hands in his hair to comb your fingers through the thick, soft locks, the scrape of your nails over his scalp making him purr.
He brushed his lips over your cheek, pressing soft kisses to the underside of your jaw on his way to the tender spot on your neck behind your ear. You arched your throat into his mouth with a tiny moan, your mind clouding in the heat coming from Bucky's body, the heat he was stoking higher with hands and lips and teeth. His palms were moving over the skin of your waist, hips, and thighs, setting fires under your skin everywhere he touched.
Bucky wanted to crawl inside this moment and live there forever, enchanted with the murmurs of pleasure he was urging from you with every touch, enthralled by the way your hands moved over him with both tenderness and desire as you slid your hands up inside his t-shirt to push it up and off over his head.
Once Bucky lifted away from you to toss his shirt to the floor, you brushed your hands and eyes over his chest with both love and appreciation. Gently, you slipped your arms around the barrel of his chest to pull your mouth to his skin. Your lips barely touching him, the kiss a bare breath of sensation, you finally gave in to a years-long impulse and brushed your mouth over the scars on his chest as your hands traced the ridges of the muscles of his back.
When you lifted your head to look into Bucky's face, the blaze of love in his eyes took your breath away, as did his lips as his mouth took yours again. You kissed him back fervently, lost in the joy and the rapture of not only being loved by Bucky, but believing it. You'd asked, and Bucky had answered with everything you wanted. You'd never take it for granted.
"I love you so much, babygirl," he rasped against the skin of your shoulders as his hands began to race over you, his fingers gripping tighter as with moans and equally desperate hands you urged him on. "I'm gonna make you happy, I swear."
"You already do," you said, the bright tone to your voice only underscoring your words. "Bucky," you crooned, your hands coming up to cup his face and draw it to your mouth. You brushed kisses over his cheeks, the corners of his mouth, his eyelids. “You love me.” You said the words with a kind of joyous wonder and laughed breathlessly. “It’s all I ever wanted.”
Bucky was lost in the shine of your eyes, the softness of your lips as they explored his face amongst whispered words of devotion. He’d tortured himself with fantasies like this from time to time over the years. Once again, fantasy couldn’t hold a candle to reality. You were so much more vibrant than he could have ever imagined. Being loved by you was so much better than he could have ever dreamed.
Bucky responded to your sweetness in kind, but with a burst of exuberant joy. He scattered kisses all over your face, making you giggle. "You're too easy," he laughed.
"I agree," you laughed back. "You should definitely work harder. Give it over then." With that you pushed him over onto his back and clambered on top of him, your hands diving under his waistband to push his jeans and underwear down.
You buried your face in his neck once he laughed and took over the job of getting him naked by kicking his remaining clothes off and jostling you. Fortunately, this left your hands free to slide appreciatively over the velvet skin of his chest. Your fingers dug in for purchase, and to test the muscle, and you giggled as he bucked under you. Never one to let an opportunity go to waste, he used the excuse of that wild motion to slide his hands up your back to press you close.
"You're the boss," he chuckled, his metal hand sliding back down to close around your ass and rock you against him, his other hand deftly unsnapping your bra.
You sat up to let your bra fall down your arms, but your expression was mock unamused. With a lifted brow and a half-smile you’d learned from Natasha, you bent back over to nip at his lower lip. "Show-off."
Bucky couldn't help but laugh a little as his hands came up to cup the back of your head to hold you in place for a long, warm kiss. "All just practice for you." The laugh under his voice made it clear he didn't expect you to buy it for a second. He was right.
"That's what we're going with, huh?" You snorted and dug your fingers into his belly, making him laugh and squirm.
He retaliated with clever fingers digging into every weak spot he remembered from your youth until you were breathlessly giggling on your back and the light of your happiness was making his throat ache. He stopped to gaze down at you, equally breathless thanks to your excellent memory for his weak spots and lifelong willingness to exploit them.
"It's plausible enough," you teased, sliding your arms around his neck and grinning up into his face, "but I'm pretty sure it's bullshit."
"I'm not sure about that," he murmured. The sight of your face softening with love, adoration beaming out of your eyes, drew him even further under your spell. If he’d known he could shower you with affection and see you bloom like a flower in the sun, he’d never have done anything else.
The next moment, his mouth was on yours and he was once again taking your breath away. This time, however, it was the generous way his lips clung to yours, the deliberate strength with which his hands gripped and held that left you shaken. Every touch made you feel cherished, every kiss felt like a promise.
He slowly slid your underwear down your legs, caressing your skin as he went. His warm palm felt like heaven against the outside of your thigh, the back of your knee, down the curve of your calf as he slipped the last of your clothing from you. Once you were both completely naked, he looked down the length of your body in something akin to awe. He was trying to memorize what you looked like in this moment. He wanted never to forget this image, from the night you first told him you loved him.
You squirmed a little under his searing gaze, feeling vulnerable and a little self-conscious. It didn't matter that you'd been naked with Bucky before, or that you knew for a fact he appreciated your body, thought you were sexy. Under such a piercing stare, you couldn't help but feel shy.
You didn't know it, but the look you were giving Bucky was his favorite. Shy but sultry, he was certain you were the sexiest woman in the universe. With a growl, he rolled until he was on top of you, settling between your thighs and bracing himself on his elbows to cup your head with his hands and take your mouth in a passionate kiss. His cock pressed against you, sliding through your folds and making you moan.
"I want to go slow, make love to you, baby," he rasped against your mouth as he nipped at your lips and rocked slowly against you. "I thought that go in the chair would take the edge off." You were moaning as Bucky's mouth traveled down to your throat and his flesh hand traveled down to your breast. You arched into him and wrapped your legs around his waist to rock back up into him, his cock sliding along your clit and driving you gradually insane.
"But you're just too much," he breathed just before sinking his teeth into your neck with just enough pressure to feel amazing. "And all I can think about is being inside you." He tilted his hips so that his cock was at your entrance and slid his hand under your back to arch you into him. He took your nipple into his mouth with a hum but didn't move to press into you.
"Yes," you panted, delirious in the heat from Bucky's hands, mouth, body. "Please, Bucky. Inside me."
Bucky lifted his head to look into your eyes. He loved to see you like this, breathless and boneless in rapture he brought to you. "Anything you want, y/n," he murmured, in that sex-charged voice that starred in all your sex dreams now, as he slowly pushed into you. You were soaking wet both from arousal and the previous bout, leaving you soft and hot. Your walls tightened and rippled around him and he thought nothing in the universe could feel better. "Anything you want," he repeated, lost in the feeling of being inside you. "All you have to do is ask, babygirl. I'll give you the world."
Bucky was rock hard and almost too big to fit but it felt divine to stretch for him. You were drawn tight as a bow, waiting for Bucky to move because you were certain once he did you would fly into a thousand shards of ecstasy. Waiting on the knife edge was an almost painful rapture. You held on to Bucky's shoulders with a tight grip, your nails sinking into his flesh. He was kissing and biting your breasts in retaliation. You never wanted it to stop.
Then he was pulling slowly, deliciously out of you and though it felt amazing, you moaned, "More," fretfully, wanting him back inside of you immediately.
With a low chuckle, he was shoving back into you. "Whatever you say." He thrust harder and faster into you, to your enthusiastic encouragement. "You're the boss, babygirl." He dropped his forehead to yours, the feel of you clenching around him pushing him to the edge of his control.
The friction had you mindless and moaning, not a single coherent word to be had from you as the feel of him thrusting into you, the slide of his skin against yours, the heat of his breath as he rasped sexy words of love and praise sent you over the edge with a sobbing cry of his name.
The sound of you moaning his name in pleasure was Bucky's new favorite. He could spend eternity making you do it again and again and again. One of your hands was clenched in his hair, tugging and driving him higher, the other scrabbling against the skin of his back, trying to find a handhold while you came apart. Your legs were tight around his waist, your cunt tight and rippling around his cock, and he was holding on by his fingernails, not wanting it to end yet.
Still, he could only respond by thrusting harder and faster when you started to rock up into him. Your orgasm had calmed, but only slightly and the relentless pace of Bucky's hips had you climbing back up to peak, the need becoming an ache. "Oh," you breathed, and using your leverage in his hair, pulled his face to yours to rub your cheek against his, "I love you."
To Bucky's astonishment, the sound of your voice in his ear, sighing in both devotion and desire, had him losing his grip and coming inside you with stuttering hips and a groan of equal parts pleasure and dismay. Shaking, he held tight as he let your orgasm coax him through the most intense moment of his life. You held him equally tight, reveling in the sight, the feel of Bucky overtaken by you the way you so often were by him.
You'd already been about to come when Bucky's orgasm took you both by surprise. You shuddered over the peak right after him, delighted and devastated by the sensation of Bucky shivering in your arms.
Bucky lay a moment against you, gloriously surrounded by you, savoring the softness of your body under his, the tangle of your limbs around him. He was pretty sure he hadn't lost control like that since his first time, but like he’d said, you were dangerous. He hadn't been lying when he said you should come with a warning sign.
Once he had his breath back, he lifted his head from where he'd buried his face in your neck while you destroyed him. "Fuck," he said, before kissing you quickly but with lavish appreciation, "I love you, too."
You dissolved into giggles at the enthusiasm in his voice and the lecherous eyebrow wiggle he gave you. He grinned at you for another moment before he made himself roll off you, too aware that his weight had to be crushing you. You rolled with him, curling into his arms to rest your head on his chest and listen to his heart calm. "That was the hottest thing that has ever happened to me," you purred as you nuzzled into his chest.
"Oh, yeah?" Bucky replied, grinning at the ceiling. "What had the record before?"
"We set it last night," you retorted, then tilted your head back to wink cheekily at him.
He chuckled softly, his arm pressing you close as his hand came up to cup your face. "Stay?" His eyes tightened anxiously at the corners as he asked, afraid he was pushing too far, too fast in his need to adore you. "I've wanted to wake up next you for a long time," he explained.
You could swear your heart was singing, and not some anemic, breathy little thing, a but full-throated hundred-strong gospel choir singing hallelujah, the kind of song that lifts you up. You opted not to remind Bucky that it was around 8:30.
You snuggled up and slid your hand around the back of his neck to pull his face close for a kiss. "Anything you want, Bucky-bug," you murmured against his lips before cuddling against his side again, slipping your arm around his chest to snug yourself against him. "All you have to do is ask. I'll give you the world."
Bucky laughed a little, awe-struck at how his life had turned around in such a short time. That laugh faded quickly into adoring chagrin, however, when you smiled against his skin and said, "A for effort, my love, on the distraction." You kissed his shoulder affectionately. "But why don't you give in and tell me what you guys are up to?"
He knew a chill should run down his spine at how easily you saw through him combined with how single-minded you could be, but he couldn't stop grinning as he turned onto his side to pull you close. He wouldn’t betray his best friend, not even for you. "I guess I distracted myself," he replied with a winning smile, "because I don't know what you're talking about."
"Steven. Grant. Rogers."
Steve had been whistling as he walked through the door of his apartment early Sunday afternoon. He was just getting home from the single best date of his life and yes, it was because the spectacular Peggy Carter had invited him to stay the night. He was on cloud nine.
Until he heard your voice, carrying through the apartment from the living room, speaking his full name in tones both angry and disappointed. He inched into the living room warily.
Even though you were glaring at him with an ire that he found terrifying in its coldness because you were always most likely to take revenge in this state, he couldn’t help but grin at you and Bucky. The two of you were snuggled up on the couch, surrounded by textbooks and papers, tablets and laptops, but you were sitting between Bucky's legs, his arm tight around your waist and snuggling you against him while he held a book with the other hand. He was smiling sheepishly at Steve, but the apology was almost drowned by the joy.
Steve knew he was in for it, but to see his two best friends, finally, happy and together more than made up for it. Whatever punishment you devised, he was certain it would be worth it.
Part Fourteen here
Taglist:
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Winter’s Eye
Pairing: AU!CastielXReader
Word Count: 1143 (Ch. X)
Story Summary: Season 13 canon tells you how AU!Castiel’s story ends, this is how it begins. The deranged and damaged iteration of Castiel we met in the apocalypse universe - an obedient soldier to Michael’s cause barely in control of his vessel’s frayed and erratically firing nerves whose inherent kindness toward humankind appeared entirely obliterated - wasn’t always an unfeeling angelic weapon of interrogation. Once, he sympathized with the plight of humans; one, he loved.
Chapter Summary: Bliss is an island in the path of an oncoming storm.
Series Masterlist
X.
Freezing air shrouds your arm creating a cascade of goose pimples across your brine-kissed flesh as you stretch out and search the empty expanse of still warm sheets crumpled in the space beside you.
“Cas?” you call out sleepily into the darkness of the cabin; a faint moonlit glow creeps in from the windows and provides your eyes enough contrast as they adjust to make out the form of the angel futzing with the stove to relight the neglected fire. Only in his absence from the bed, of his naked heat molded to your body between frictional interludes of fiery lovemaking, do you notice the encroaching cold.
Match held tight in his fingertips, he strikes the sulfuric tip upon the box; the concentrated set of his features flares bright. Cupping his hand to protect the match from extinguishing in the swift flick of his wrist, he tosses the spark into the cavernous kindling-stuffed gaping of iron.
Satisfied by the rapid upward leap of flames, he shuts the door and shifts the focus of his blues - ablaze in their own inner flame - to your beckoning figure.
“Come back to bed,” you simper; sitting up, you swaddle your shoulders and bare breasts in the blanket to shield yourself not from the intensity of his gaze, but from a stray draft that shivers up your spine even as his regard ignites your skin in a flush.
Unabashedly nude, thickly toned body impervious to the icy bite of the air, he stands - statuesque in solidity and intent - from where he crouches and casts a frowning look at the depleted stack of wood. “There isn’t enough to keep the fire burning through the night,” he murmurs his concern. There isn’t enough on account of you having spent the better part of the previous night and day and night again engaged in less practical more euphorically inclined expenditures of energy.
“We’ll manage.” Your low laugh does little to penetrate his emerging uneasiness over his pleasure-seeking disregard for your care. “Cas-” the breathy exhalation of his name garners his attention. Soft stretch of a smile denting your cheek, you lull his perpetual penchant for worrying with a reassurance- “the trees will wait ‘til morning. Cuddling with you is plenty warm.”
Swaggering nearer in his stripped glory, the gleam of his blues darken. “Just the cuddling?”
“You never tire, do you?” Reaching out, giggling, fingers encircling his wrist, you yank him under the tent of sheets and blanket and press yourself pliantly into his embrace.
“Of this? Definitely not.” Snuggling you to his torso, christening the top of your tousled hair with a smiling kiss, his stare drifts thoughtfully to the ceiling.
You watch him think, observe the glimmer of irises antic with life, and wait with baited breath for the tiny twitch of his upper lip that tells you he’s decided what it is he wants to say. So near, you can see where the sense of serenity you’ve shared softens some of the hardness of suffering etched into his aspect like tempest floods carving out canyons over a millennia revealing a resplendent rugged beauty in a spring sunrise.
“I find much awe in humanity,” he confesses, angling to look you in the eyes before he continues, his fingers hook your chin to tilt your lips near his, brushing them as he speaks. “I think what amazes me most is that humankind survived as long as they have with such pleasures as this available to them. You are remarkable-”
Cutting him off, an involuntary yawn unlooses itself from your lips; your nose crinkles in self-effacing apology.
He kisses the adorably scrunched protuberance and moves to rest his forehead against yours; amusement lightens his voice. “Remarkable … and tired.”
“Good tired,” you correct lest he think you’re tired of him. “Sore and sleepy is all.”
It hadn’t occurred to him his marathon exploration of the thus far limitless bounds of unbridled desire might hurt you. “I could soothe the soreness,” he offers.
“No, I like it,” you quickly decline, preferring the deep ache of spent muscles and blissful numbness of electrically expended nerves to the dull pain of apocalyptic normalcy. “It feels nice. Like echoes of you all over.”
He tenses. “You mean of this vessel’s touch.”
That shoots a pained spike of wakefulness through your brain. That’s not what you meant at all, although you can understand his confusion. Hell, it’s confusing to you as well moment to moment remembering he’s a wavelength of celestial intent crammed into a framework of someone else’s skeleton. You prop up on an elbow to peer into his eyes and place a palm over his heart. “No, I meant of the real you. The angelic being I can’t see. The one I can feel when I close my eyes.”
It seems to him with every breath you take, with every beat of your heart, and with every sensitivity of understanding you extend to him, you become more beautiful by the minute.
“Is he in there still?” you ask, curious now that the subject has arisen.
“Jimmy,” Cas supplies the name; sadness dims the shine of his eyes.
“Jimmy,” you mouth the name in a bare whisper.
“Jimmy Novak,” he repeats to complete the surname out of respect for what the man gave him and firmly believing he deserves at least that given how he ill-used him in his failed angelic exploits. “Yes, and no. He used to be there, in the background. I could feel his emotions. Feel how he suffered along with me. When I failed him, failed to keep his family safe as I had promised I would, he seemed to sink somewhere I could no longer hear him. And when I fell from Heaven, when Michael cast me down, I think Jimmy’s soul, whatever was left of him after all that pain and loss, after everything he saw and experienced under my power, I think he stayed there with them.”
“So it is just you.” You dart your fingers ticklishly down along the ridge of his ribcage, tuck your arm across his waist, and lay your head upon his chest. “Once, you were only a part of him, of this body, but now it’s a part of you. You consider it a vessel, separate from yourself, but it belongs to you now, Cas.”
“I suppose it does, yes.” He settles his hand across your arm and, stroking your skin, snugs you nearer. Silently, he nurtures the added hope, ‘And to you if you’ll have me.’
Gaze gliding in the dark to the silhouette of a sigil gilding the window as you slip into slumber, he mistakes a sudden rise of dread drying his throat and pilling the hair of his neck as the simple somatic reaction of his angelic nature to the warded warning against heavenly kind.
Castiel tag list: (Closed, if you’d like to be removed please let me know!) @jeepangel @sammiesamness @willowing-love @blueicevalkyrie @im-the-nerdiest-of-them-a11 @thesugargalaxy @bluetina-blog @honeybeetrash @bucky-thorin-winchester @superwholockz @tistai @wordstothewisereaders @gill-ons @mrswhozeewhatsis @marisayouass @stone-met @castiel-savvy18 @samualmortgrim @trexrambling @magnificent-mantle @xdifsx @mandilion76 @rockfairy @peaceloveancolor @unicorntrooper @anisolatedship @itsilvermorny @aditimukul @kudosia @goofynerd-67babylove @uninspirationalsonglyrics @gray-avidan @mishascupcake @mishapanicmeow @praisecastielamen @roseyhxnt @let-the-imaginationflow @fuschiarulerinthebluebox @coolpencilpie @jenabean75 @luciathewinchestergirl @morganas-pendragons @heyitscam99 @fangirl-and-stuff @selahbela @realgreglestrade @splendidcas @pointlesscasey @i-larb-spooderman @thewhiterabbit42 @thelostverse @castieliswatchingoverme @beccollie18 @dragonett8 @dixie-chick @jtownraindancer @carowinsthings @passionghost @ladyofletters67 @futureparent @gabbie7-11 @myfandomlife-blog @dreamerkim @shamelesslydean @earthtokace @neaeri @justanormalangel @lone-loba @supernaturalymarvel @lilrubixx @wings-and-halo @lilulo-12 @x-cassiopeia @thehoneybeecastielfollows @musiclovinchic93 @81mysteriouslyme @the-bottom-of-the-abyss @jaylarkson @missjenniferb @jessiekay2010
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Welcome To The First Order
Happy Valentine’s Day, everyone! My discord server did an exchange, here is what I came up with. This is in the Star Wars universe, not DMC. Warnings for smut, questionable consent, restraints, and light dom/sub themes. Kylo Ren/OC but can also be Reader.
Word count - 5,401
__________
A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away…
On a remote planet in the outer rim, a massive volcano spewed ash miles overhead, gradually dispersing to coat the landscape in a fine gray powder. The acrid tang of sulphur permeated the air and rough, black rock clearly marked more recent activity.
To the volcano’s east, a lush forest grew from the nutrient-rich soil, filled with migrant species looking for a home. The greenery extended as far as the eye could see, proving that even the most destructive forces could build a paradise.
But Kylo Ren wasn’t here to sightsee. In fact, he abhorred the scene entirely. Volcanic planets were among his most hated. They always stank, and under his heavy black cloak there was no escaping the ambient heat.
With a final, regretful glance back at his treasured command shuttle and its lovely air-conditioned cabin, the black-clad warrior sighed and turned to his task. Why couldn’t the damned Force disturbance have been on a polar planet?
Whatever. He’d find the source quickly and leave; the cause wouldn’t stay hidden long now that he was physically here. Maybe a quick stop at a balmier planet on the way back.
The newly instated Supreme Leader closed his eyes and slowed his breathing, focusing his energy on the undercurrent pulsing through the universe. He pictured it like a spiderweb, thin filaments connecting every atom in existence. A twitch here and there in the web was normal. Birth, death, conflict and unity all sent waves radiating through the network.
Yet a dark knot swirled in this sector, a shadowy stain he recognized like an echo of his own heart. It called to him through the galactic void, drawing him in like prey.
But Kylo Ren was no one’s prey.
His eyes shot open as he pinpointed the origin. It wasn’t far, maybe three kilometers east or so. A short walk, then he’d clean up whatever mess was causing the itch in his mind and leave this hellscape behind.
__________
The disturbance first appeared three weeks ago, a tiny speck in the fabric of reality that barely drew his attention. He ignored it, more focused on his new duties as the Supreme Leader, and on removing any officers who refused to accept the news. It was an annoyance, nothing more.
Yet as the days passed it grew stronger, until he found his attention wavering to prod at it during mundane meetings. The business of running the First Order was as much work as he’d expected, but he hadn’t expected it to be so tedious.
Indeed, some tasks he found so boring he missed his old position.
Eventually, his boredom became too powerful to ignore and he found himself launching his command shuttle, slipping away from his duties to investigate the strange disturbance in person. None would dare complain, now that he was Supreme Leader. If they did, they wouldn’t live to regret it.
__________
Less than a kilometer remained between him and his target. He closed his eyes to focus once more, homing in even further on the strange signature. With it so near, he had to be careful not to draw its attention or reveal his presence. The mental masks he wore only did so much, after all. Speaking of masks, he should probably don his helmet. Undoubtedly the damn thing would be stiflingly hot. Damn volcanic planets.
Luckily, there was plenty of wildlife to hide his Force signature. Snoke taught him well, better than the fool Jedi ever did. Not that it saved him, in the end. He should’ve known better than to stand in the way of progress.
There. A human, young and fierce. Female, with an ocean of Force energy running through her.
She’s been touched by the Force… This had better not turn out like Jakku.
__________
The girl bit her lip as she caught a glimpse of the dark energy approaching. True, Ren hid himself well, but she was prepared for that. Any creature within a kilometer of her camp had a Force trip-wire to alert her to any gifted intruders. A wise choice, judging by the power in the signature she detected. She knew her task wouldn’t be easy, but could she really hope to best one with such strength?
There is no emotion. There is peace.
The words of the Jedi soothed her mind, a bit. It helped keep her calm and focused, holding back the fear she’d so long denied. Emotions wouldn’t help her; they never did.
No, they tended to do the opposite. Frequently.
This isn’t helping. Gotta do something, gotta move.
Thick fabric rustled as she circled her chosen ambush site, one of many decisions she struggled not to second guess. The small area offered little in the way of natural protection, though the trees circling the clearing gave her some much-needed shade to sit in and meditate. A small tent sat under one such tree, a campfire and firewood just outside. She hadn’t brought much, but a few bags of supplies were neatly arranged on a large boulder. Her miniscule ship waited for her return on the other side of the ridge. Hopefully, it wouldn’t be left empty tomorrow.
__________
The closer he came, the more she felt him. The energy he radiated turned her stomach; a seething, roiling mass of anger and pain, guilt and despair. Sparks of light tried to break through the darkness, but they were like stars in a night sky. Drowned by the endless void surrounding them.
I wonder what my energy feels like?
Maybe she’d ask him, right before the killing blow.
At last, he came within meters of her small camp. Shadows cast by the trees and greenery helped him blend in, but a flash of motion and his dark energy marked his location like a distress beacon. Few animals remained, the air still as if the Force itself held its breath.
Her fingers itched to draw her saber and attack, but she knew better. A Jedi never strikes first. Defend, but do not attack. Even if you know your foe.
She knew of Kylo Ren. The son of legends, fallen from grace to rise in the shadow of the First Order. Once, he’d inspired hope. Now he inspired terror. Her master knew him many years ago, before his fall. One of three survivors of Ren’s desecration of the Jedi temple, Voe was the one who found her in the lower levels of Coruscant, stealing to survive and performing simple mind-tricks if she were caught. She still didn’t fully agree with her teachings, but her belly didn’t ache with hunger and she no longer slept in a gutter. It was enough, and maybe another few years would help her believe. Today her faith in the Force was a lake of still waters, but one day it would harden into a tower of crystal, never to be shaken or disrupted by the capricious winds of doubt.
At least, that’s what Master Voe told her.
The Force screamed and brought her back to the moment as a terrible red light buzzed to life. It was almost time.
__________
The clueless girl still hadn’t noticed him. She was young; her worn-out Padawan robes gave that away. Hazel eyes and a mess of shoulder-length brown hair framed a face dominated by her overly-large nose, a jagged scar running from her left cheekbone to her scalp. An ordinary looking girl, all in all.
He hid mere inches away, shrouded by a small bird’s life force. From this distance, it would be a simple task to execute her and be done with it.
But a corpse couldn’t tell him what she was doing here, or if she was causing the disturbance, not to mention how long it’d been since he got to fight. Perhaps a good duel would help relieve some of his boredom.
So, instead of executing her on the spot, he drew his saber and activated the blade, stepping out from the shadows with a casual stride.
“Hello, little Jedi,” he said.
Her eyes went wide, darting to his glowing blade and back to his masked face. Yet her Force-energy didn’t ring with alarm, much to his shock. She’d been expecting him.
“Kylo Ren… You’re not as tall as I expected,” she replied.
Not as tall?! He was six foot three, how tall did she expect him to be?
“That one I haven’t heard before. Tell me your name.”
Her arms crossed, a defiant glare entering her eyes. “No.”
He chucked, spinning his blade in a leisurely circle as he stepped closer. “An odd name, No. Your parents must have been interesting.”
Her energy twitched, a spike of irritation flowing through the Force. Excellent, she clearly didn’t have full control of her emotions. He could use that.
“That’s not what I meant…”
“Well, I have to call you something.”
Another spike, this was too easy. Hopefully she was more skilled with her saber, or this would be over far too quickly.
“The dead have no need for names,” she replied. So, she meant to kill him.
Fool.
“You lack the skill to defeat me, No.”
She smirked and drew her saber, gripping the hilt in a textbook defense hold. Third form, if he wasn’t mistaken.
“Let’s find out, or are you too much of a coward? Maybe they should call you Kylo Ran.”
Enough talk, then.
The rage that boiled in his heart, tucked away under the surface until it was needed, rose like the tide. Kylo released his hold on it and allowed it to flood his senses, empowering him with the Dark Side. It always sent a thrill up his spine to feel the heat and unending fury it held, and today was no different.
Black robes fluttered as he lunged forward to strike at the girl. Her saber barely rose in time to block his furious blow, the green blade buzzing to life inches from her body to hold his at bay.
“Tell me why you’re here and I’ll let you keep breathing,” he growled. As if to mock him, the girl took a massive breath and pushed, breaking their stalemate as she jumped back.
He didn’t give her the time to recover. A series of Force-empowered blows rained down upon her, his saber an unstoppable conduit for his wrath.
__________
Golden sparks flew from where red met green. The girl gritted her teeth and summoned a tether of Force energy to coil around her adversary’s ankle, but he nimbly stepped away. Damn, she’d have to do better than that.
“Pathetic, you’ll have to do better than that,” growled his distorted voice, as if he were in her mind.
There is no emotion.
Hazel eyes flashed as she ducked under his glowing red blade, dodging a death blow by mere centimeters and dashing back out of his range. Strands of her hair sizzled as he cut the air. She needed to be faster; he was right, she didn’t have the skill to beat him. Not in a straight fight, at least. Time to play dirty.
There is only peace.
A wave of rock-hard energy rocketed from his leather covered palm, charged with power and ill intent. She hastily matched it with one of her own, the Force clashing in a battle of will. As the invisible blasts struggled for dominance, she swiped her saber at Kylo’s arm, smirking when a thin line of pale skin revealed itself under his robes. A minuscule drop of blood leaked out a beat later.
“Who’s pathetic now?”
A low growl rumbled through his helmet and she capitalized on his rage, slashing at his head with a mighty Force-empowered strike. The glowing green blade hummed and sliced through the metal of his helmet, but he pirouetted away before she could reach his flesh. She leaped skyward for another hit, but he was too fast. A pulse of energy knocked her out of the air to land ungracefully on the grassy ground.
“You have some skill, girl, I’ll admit that,” Ren murmured.
The young Jedi scrambled to her feet as the dark visage she battled tugged the now distorted metal away from his face, revealing the features of her target. Black hair, handsome features. Eyes that burned with unrestrained power.
Voe told her what he looked like before, so she’d been prepared.
Yet to see such a young face beneath the mask that inspired terror across the galaxy still threw her off. He couldn’t be much older than she was, and already he ran the most powerful political group in existence.
“Imagine how powerful you’d be if you left behind the foolishness of the Jedi.”
Voe warned her of this, too. That he might tempt her or try to darken her light. No lie was too much when one studied the dark.
“The foolishness of the Jedi? Bold words for one with the blood of Skywalker in his veins,” she sneered back.
His face twisted, the intensity of his fury electrifying the air. It was so powerful, it set the hair on her arms on end, and she suddenly understood why this man was so widely feared. Was she about to die? Maybe mentioning his family was unwise…
The Force shifted, a current of energy building in her foe’s core. Only one thing required that much energy that she knew of.
Force lightning.
An icy chill crawled up her spine. Voe covered the technique only in passing, deeming it too early in her training to explore such a finicky ability. Mistakes could cost a young padawan her life. Wiser to train her in simpler things first, no matter how much she begged.
Adrenaline coursed through her veins, her eyes focused entirely on Ren’s hands even as fear threatened to still her heart. Sparks danced between his gloved fingers, a gathering storm meant to annihilate her.
There is no death, there is the Force.
The words held little comfort. Becoming one with the Force was not her goal today.
Focus!
She released a deep breath and planted her feet, her toes curling into the soil through the thin soles of her shoes. A firm stance was key. Her body and mind needed to be in perfect unison if she were going to survive.
A howl of fury rattled through the Supreme Leader’s lips as the first arc of lightning crackled toward her. The young Jedi raised her saber to catch it and screamed back, finding strength in voicing her defiance.
Her shoulders trembled with the strain of containing such a huge amount of energy in her saber. She couldn’t hold it back much longer, soon it would overload the kyber crystal and find its way to her body. If only Ren would pause, then she could discharge it safely!
But he knew it just as well as she did, and made his move. With one hand still channeling Force-energy into a sizzling arc of lightning, he surged forward to knock her saber from her hands. A gasp split her lips and he smirked, cutting off the energy flow just before it struck her body.
She had failed.
Again.
__________
The side vent of his saber hummed angrily at her hammering pulse, the main shaft crossing over her shoulder. One wrong move, and he would decapitate her. She was at his mercy.
“Quite the troublemaker, aren’t you? It’s almost a waste to kill you.”
Her eyes revealed her fear in all its glory as he considered her. Poor little Jedi, defenseless without her Master. So afraid, mere lightning was enough to still her tongue. It almost made him laugh.
“Just do it, then! What are you waiting for?”
I spoke too soon… the only way to still her tongue is to cut it out.
He chuckled, twisting his wrist to slide the crimson blade across her collarbone. A mark of her failure, though she needn’t endure it long. “But you haven’t answered my questions yet.”
Their eyes locked and he brutishly barged past her meager mental defenses. Her mind was like a kaleidoscope, disorganized and chaotic, flooding him with useless information as her consciousness desperately tried to hide. As if there was any escape.
He saw her doubt, her curiosity and will to survive. The flame of anger that burned in her heart, the efforts she went to just to keep it concealed. He felt the hunger that once gnawed at her belly, the cool night air that kept her awake in the alleys of her home city. The sting of a firm hand when she was caught stealing, the sneer of the merchant that delivered it. The rage that fueled her instinctual first use of Jedi mind tricks, the shock when the merchant simply walked away.
The robed figure that approached her soon after, offering a different life.
Voe…?
Kylo blinked and the memories faded away. He’d assumed her master was Skywalker; who else could it be? He’d forgotten Voe was even alive. A mistake he would not repeat.
The girl’s master taught her well, but he would break through the meaningless drivel. Like the volcano that cast a shadow over the valley, he held the power to destroy all that stood before him, making room for something better to fill the void. It was not his fate to be loved, but to be feared and obeyed. This girl would be no different.
He would destroy her, and then build her into something better.
Both his black clad hands grasped her skull, his saber sheathed as he grimaced and delved deeper into her mind. Tears dripped from her wide hazel eyes but he didn’t care. Like a bantha in a china shop, he destroyed any defenses that barred his way.
You will show me.
More irrelevant memories. A lecherously smiling face, an aching dread as flesh met flesh. The sting of alcohol burning its way to her stomach, the tingle more familiar by the day. With a scolding tap of his index finger he brushed the useless recollections aside.
Show me why you are here.
There - at last. Something useful.
Her hands were clenched in her lap, the calm voice of Master Voe ringing through the small tent. Two bedrolls lied nearby, a fire pit with a pot hanging over it just outside.
“You know what will happen to you if you fail, padawan. Control your emotions, and do not allow the traitor to gain the upper hand.”
Her hands relaxed, the angle changing as she bowed her head to her Master. “I will not fail you.”
Voe must mean him. She’d been sent to take him down, it seemed. How insulting. Voe didn’t honestly think he’d fall to a padawan, did she?
Kylo drew back, releasing the girl from his cruel grip to fall to her knees and vomit. She looked so small and weak, a pawn sent as a sacrificial lamb by her pathetic Master. Voe had always been a fool, but this was a new level of stupidity.
He chuckled, smirking down at the girl wiping away her tears until she met his eyes. Brave, considering what he’d just done.
The girl glared at him and spat, lobbing a wad of vomit-tainted saliva to land on his boot. “Fuck you.”
Two words, and the laughter died on his lips. Brave, yes. But also incredibly foolish.
His hands went back to her skull, tangling in her hair and giving it a sharp tug. Her entire body shifted with the force of his pull, landing her on all fours at his feet. Where she belonged.
“You aren’t very smart, are you, girl?”
“Heh, I’ve been called worse,” she responded with an exhausted but rebellious smirk. Another yank on her hair, harder than before.
The girl bit her lip, whimpering in what he was beginning to suspect wasn’t pain. She might be the strangest padawan he’d ever seen.
“You aren’t cut from the cloth of the Jedi.”
The fact that she’d been taken on as a padawan showed how desperate the Jedi were. They were dying out, one by one. How many were left, now? Where were they hiding? He had to know, had to eradicate them properly.
“At least I didn’t murder anyone. Better fit than you were.”
The Force twitched, a flicker of pride seeping through her weakened and desecrated mind. As if she were somehow his superior. Honestly, did she even try to restrain her emotions?
He tugged her hair again, forcing her face up to look at him. The expression on her face sent a pulse of fire through his blood. That wasn’t pride he sensed; it was desperation. Her will to survive in action searching for a way to earn her next breath.
Kylo chuckled, tightening his hold on the brown strands. First a fight, now this. Perhaps volcanic planets weren’t so bad?
“You like that, don’t you? You would’ve been a terrible Jedi, No. Why stay loyal to a group that doesn’t suit you?”
The girl huffed, but she didn’t deny it. From what he’d seen in her memories, she was no stranger to darkness. What if it twisted her, just as it did to him? What if he didn’t need to kill her?
“No one else wanted my loyalty,” she murmured. “No one else wanted me.”
Oh, it was almost too easy. The thought of what he could do to her flooded his senses with heady lust, his cock twitching against his thigh. A good fight always got him excited; something about the knowledge he could’ve died but instead, proved himself strong enough to win…
Kylo Ren licked his lips. “And if someone did?”
Her lips curled into a dismissive smile, glimmers of sad amusement coming to life in her eyes. “Are you saying you want me? Here I thought you dark-siders just took what you wanted.”
The girl was born for the Dark Side. If anything, he’d have to watch his back for the blade she’d someday stick in his spine. For now, though…
Thick cables of Force energy took hold of the girl’s head and arms, freeing his hands. He knew she could break free if she wanted; her own ability to command the Force at will proved it.
Yet she simply let the tendrils do their work. She had to be exhausted, after his annihilation of her mind, but all he sensed from her thoughts was a hint of fear, perhaps a bit of curiosity. The girl wasn’t even breathing quickly, her oddly calm eyes daring him to do something. As if she wanted this.
“You want me to take what I want, is that it?”
She didn’t reply. Aggravating, he asked her a question.
“Fine. Have it your way, No.”
He couldn’t deny the thrill it gave him to see her eyes widen as he drew his lightsaber once more. With a twitch of his fingers, the cords holding her in place tightened and shifted, forcing her body to arch.
“Hold still,” he ordered, bringing the crimson blade to her hips. The fabric of her padawan robes fell away seconds later, revealing her skin to his hungry gaze.
Pink folds glistened like grass in the morning, supple flesh begging to be devoured. The girl whimpered as he drew closer, tracing his leather-clad fingers across her most sensitive spots. It’d been far too long since he indulged himself.
“So that’s what you want? The same thing as everyone else?” she sneered.
The quiver in her voice contrasted her words, but she still shouldn’t dare to speak them aloud. Oh, he couldn’t wait to break this stubborn little padawan.
He plunged a wad of Force-energy deep into her throat as he cut away the rest of her clothing. A finer display, he hadn’t seen in years; every inch of flesh he revealed brought more blood to his aching length.
“I didn’t give you permission to speak, youngling.”
Only the sound of choking responded. Through the Force, he felt her struggling airway and mounting panic. It only added to the growing heat of his need.
“Much better. Those who listen well will be rewarded.”
He narrowed his eyes and gestured, adding more invisible tendrils. These, however, held a different purpose. They slithered up from the ground, climbing her arms and legs to reach her tempting core and burrow deep within. The thick ball occupying her mouth and esophagus pulled back, allowing her to breathe almost normally. At the very least, he’d now hear her moans.
And the girl didn’t let him down, whimpering as his Force-energy explored her wet heat. Soft as velvet and dewy with arousal, her body betrayed her. No longer could she hide or pretend she didn’t want this as badly as he did.
But she probably thought him to be a gentle lover. Imbecile.
Kylo made quick work of drawing himself out, indulging in a few rapid strokes to ease his need. The threads probing and holding her body vanished, leaving her to cough as her ability to breathe was fully restored. Watching her go limp, the sound of her hacking gasps and the curve of her ass waiting for his attentions summoned the first bead of fluid from his tip.
Waste not, want not.
“Do you want more, little Jedi?” he rumbled, striding into her line of sight so she could watch him toy with his length. Pulses of lust radiated from her mind, too powerful to restrain. “Come have a taste, then.”
The girl’s hooded hazel eyes watched him carefully, suspicion tainting the urges vying for control. Enough delay; he’d just have to teach her.
A single, thick rope of energy wrapped around her slim neck and dragged her to him, angling her throat and forcing her jaw open to envelop his length. Kylo groaned, the feel of her mouth a tantalizing precursor to satisfaction. So warm and wet…
He tangled his hands in her hair, releasing the tendril to take over. A snap of his hips drew a lewd moan from his lips and a quiet whine from hers.
“Ah, come now, No. You like the taste, don’t you? I can tell,” he growled.
Indeed, her mind was racing, projecting a craving for more. At his words, she hummed and pressed her tongue to his shaft, closing her eyes and savoring his flavor. Truly, the Force was a wonderful thing.
But as Supreme Leader, he couldn’t grant her what she wanted so easily. She had to earn it.
Kylo tugged her face against his hips, rolling into her throat over and over as she gagged on his girth. Saliva dribbled from the corner of her lips and shimmered on his cock. She looked quite appealing this way, her body bare and glowing in midday sunlight, wrapped around him and at his mercy.
He smirked and coils of power pulled her off the ground, spreading her arms and legs like a starfish. To her credit, the girls only moaned and slid her tongue across his slit, seemingly not caring one way or the other. She learned fast.
The dark warrior withdrew and hummed, releasing her skull to pat her head like a treasured pet. Glassy eyes and swollen lips glistened. “A promising start.”
A gesture of his fingers spun her around; another, and her wetness ground upon his length. Two sets of lips moaned. It was time to break the little Jedi.
“You’re mine, little Jedi,” he said roughly. Two leather-clad hands gripped her hips and spread her ass open. He spat on her back entrance and smirked as he brought a tendril to prod its way inside, simultaneously burying his length deep in her cunt.
Divine. Her walls greeted him in a tight embrace like an old friend. Panting gasps spilled from her lips as he began to move, humming as her body refused to let him go.
“All mine. You serve a new Master now,” he said. “Tell me, girl. Say it!”
He snapped back inside, slapping his flesh against hers. The cord of energy in her ass pulsed in time with his motions, rubbing against his head deep within. Curses rang forth, but she denied him what he demanded. Not for long.
The wet slap of his motions didn’t pause as his Force-tendrils released her arms, moving to tease at her chest. Flicking and rolling, kneading and squeezing, leaving bruises across her curves as a reminder of her new position.
“Say it! Who is your Master?”
“Ah-! No!”
Ren quickened his pace and dragged one gloved hand lower, inching closer to her clit. A promise, of sorts. Obedience would be rewarded. Rebellion brought nothing but pain. “Say it.”
Her hands dug into the gritty ground, clenching just as they had in her memory. “No!”
He pinched her tiny bundle of nerves, brutishly tight. Her body flinched away, a yelp of pain rewarding his abuse. Force-energy whipped across her spine and stomach, leaving angry red lines in their wake. Again and again, he thrust against her drenched core. Creamy fluid dotted his trousers, as if he needed more proof of her lust.
“You’re a filthy little whore, aren’t you? Jedi slut!”
With her so distracted, it was simple to enter her mind yet again. Her skin was on fire, electric pulses singing across her nerves as she was filled beyond what she’d ever experienced before. The girl was drowning in arousal, teetering on the edge of surrender. Stubborn fool.
He opened his own mind, just enough to let images of his plans for her through. He’d have her in chains, naked and at his disposal at all times. If she obeyed, perhaps he’d allow her to cum. A collar would do wonders for her neck. Someday, she might earn a place by his throne, ready to please him or his more competent generals. He might even have her pleasure him while he met with them.
He was going to destroy her, of that there was no doubt. All she had to decide was if she would become something better in the wreckage of her former life.
“Who is your Master?”
“Fu- fuck!” she cried, her voice close to breaking. “K- Kylo Ren! Kylo Ren is my Master!”
Kylo smirked and took hold of her shoulder, pulling out just long enough to get her on her back. He lifted her legs to rest on his shoulders, granting him an angle too perfect to waste. With each roll of his hips, he dragged moans from her lips and sweat from her pleasure-furrowed brow. Her eyes were hazy, but coherent enough to meet his.
His hands flew to her throat and squeezed, stealing the air from her lungs as he fucked her. The fire in his belly would soon erupt, engulfing him in bliss. Even without the Force, he knew she was close too.
“Cum for your Master, girl!”
The black-clad man rubbed one last thread of Force-energy against her swollen clit, his hands tightening on her neck and his hips slamming into hers. The velveteen walls caressing his cock fluttered, an obscene moan pushing its way from her mouth as she arced against him. Her signature flared white-hot and shoved him over the edge.
Heat crashed from his tip, spilling his seed deep within. Kylo gasped, his hips stuttering as his mouth fell open in overwhelming perfection. Her body milked every last drop from his, clenching and releasing in turns long after he was spent.
At last, the girl fell still, save for her heaving chest. He gave her neck one last squeeze; a reminder before he pulled away.
She didn’t move as he fixed his pants. Fluid spilled from her core onto the dirt and red lines crossed over her stomach, bruises forming on her limbs and throat. Broken. Ready to be rebuilt.
But first…
“Tell me your name, girl.”
She sighed and struggled to sit up. Her clothes were beyond repair, scraps of cloth littering the clearing around them but she gathered what she could anyway. “What does it matter?”
He chuckled. “I suppose it doesn’t. Tell me anyway.”
She looked away, covering what she could with little success. It was better this way, in his opinion. Padawan robes were hideous, and he did so enjoy gazing at the marks he left behind.
“It’s Coriandra,” she said. “Like the spice.”
A smirk twisted his lips. A far better name than No. “Welcome to the First Order, Coriandra.”
#fanfiction#fanfic#star wars#kylo ren#kylo ren/reader#kylo ren/oc#spicy#My writing#happy valentine's day 2020
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I’m your (late 😅) gifter for the @tachibanamakotobirthdayexchange, @chibistarlyte! Super sorry about the delay—now let’s get you that slightly angsty + fluffy MakoHaru you’ve been waiting for! 💚💙
Summary: Haru needs a little reassurance the night before they begin their separate college careers.
Read below, on AO3, or FF.net. No trigger warnings, just 2.3k words of light angst with fluff and a happy ending. Takes place right before they start university! Thanks to my girls, @uravityesque and @mrssakurahatake , for looking over the first draft of this fic. 💚
A Little Distance
Makoto stood from the futon they’d only just finished assembling and glanced to the sliding glass doors, the streetlights coming in bright. He sighed. “I should probably get going now, don’t you think?”
Haru stood, too; he couldn’t argue, even though he might have wanted to.
Only a few days ago, they could have stayed up until well past midnight and it wouldn’t have mattered at all. Makoto could have walked the few yards to the Tachibana’s, he could have fallen asleep right where he sat at Haru’s.
But now…
Now, Makoto needed to catch a bus home. Because they weren’t in Iwatobi, he and Makoto weren’t nextdoor neighbors anymore.
And after tomorrow…
On the mornings Haru lingered too long, he wouldn’t have his baths interrupted with an exasperated grin and a gentle scolding. On the rare mornings he didn’t linger in the water, he wouldn’t step outside to find Makoto on the stoop, coaxing a kitten into nuzzling his hand, into purring and wrapping its little body around his ankle. Makoto wouldn’t stand up with a final pet and a bright “Good morning, Haru-chan!” Makoto wouldn’t laugh as he glared at the ‘-chan’.... Ren and Ran wouldn’t chase after their weekend runs along the beach, wouldn’t beg and pout for them to stop and help them find the prettiest shells and seaglass instead. And on nights when Haru couldn’t sleep, he couldn’t look to the South and see the soft glow shining through Makoto’s curtains, the green light that meant Makoto was still awake, too; the beacon that meant he could toss one of the pebbles they’d plucked from the shore at the glass and Makoto would part those green curtains and—
After tomorrow… Makoto wouldn’t be waiting at the edge of the pool to offer his hand, to help Haru from the water, to pull him out of his head. Not at practice, not at meets…
Haru looked down, swallowed. He’d had plenty of time to prepare, of course. They both knew where they were attending university, where they were living, what they were doing. They’d known it for weeks. But his halfhearted imaginings were nothing compared to facing the reality of it.
Then Makoto was nodding, turning to find his backpack, turning for the door.
And Haru didn’t want to face it all, not yet. He could feel his anxiety rising, climbing up his spine to animate his body. It moved him forward, moved his fingers to the hem of Makoto’s sleeve. His hand was light, his knuckles barely brushing against the pulse in Makoto’s wrist, the lightest tug on the slack material beneath his fingertips.
Makoto didn’t freeze, he didn’t go stiff or rigid; he didn’t turn to face Haru. He just stood, his arm loose at his side. Giving Haru the time, the privacy he needed to voice the thing they’d both danced around these past weeks.
“We’ve...we’ve never been…” so far away went unsaid, Haru’s fingers tugging more insistently at the soft cotton.
Makoto nodded slightly. “And tomorrow will be the first time we won’t walk to our ‘first day of school’ together, too.” His voice was always soft for Haru, but tonight it was even more so. Because he knew Haru needed it.
Because tomorrow, Haru’s day would be filled with new people—dozens, hundreds of them. People who wanted him to talk—to them, about himself. People who didn’t just know, people who would have to learn. Haru’s fingers twisted deeper into Makoto’s sweater.
“Well, beside that time in second year when you skipped.” Makoto’s laugh came out shallow, just barely shaking the sleeve in Haru’s hand.
That morning, Haru had been moody; he’d been short, dismissive even, with Makoto. He’d been thinking of Rin. So he’d told Makoto to go on without him, ...then he’d never shown up. Haru’s grip tightened around the soft cotton, pulling it taut. That day, most of the last year, the night of the festival… There were so many times lately when Makoto had deserved better.
He would… He just…!
On instinct, Haru leaned in, immediately letting out a shaky breath at the contact, his fingers slackening some around the cotton yarn. Makoto’s sweater was plush against his forehead, too; the body beneath it was warm, strong. Like Makoto always was for Haru. He could breathe again, deep and slow, soothed by the familiarity of the fabric softener the Tachibana’s had used for the last decade. This, Haru realized, was as close to Iwatobi, to home, as he could get....
Haru felt Makoto’s quiet hum radiate through his shoulder blade before he heard it, the words that followed: “I could try out the new futon,” Makoto murmured. “I could stay.”
“No!” Haru started, jerking at Makoto’s sleeve. He’d thought about it—of course he’d thought about it. He’d thought about more than that: If they could both miraculously get out of their leases, if they could find a two-bedroom perfectly equidistant between their two universities, if they could do it all before classes started…. Haru bit his lip. He was keeping Makoto from getting the rest he needed for tomorrow, and Haru had promised himself in Australia that he’d be better, that he’d be more for Makoto. More open; more aware of Makoto’s dreams, the dreams they shared… “No,” he whispered. He meant it, ...even as he leaned in closer, even as he kept his hold on Makoto’s sleeve.
Makoto hummed again, content to let Haru rest against his shoulder, stand together in the quiet for however long Haru needed.
Haru let the silence stretch until his heart no longer felt like he was waiting for the starting pistol to fire, until the adrenaline had receded. He let out a sigh, an audible acquiescence.
“It could be good for us, you know.” Makoto’s words were contemplative, cautious. “A little distance.”
Haru stiffened, each muscle tensing, ready to dive again.
Makoto felt it; his tone softened further: “We don’t really know what the world is like without the other right by our side.” He cleared his throat. “We might discover a new side to ourselves this year. That’s what college is for, right?”
Haru shook his head against the hard ridge of Makoto’s shoulder blade, bangs catching on green yarn with each rejection of Makoto’s premise. With every we Makoto had spoken, Haru had heard the underlying you: Makoto was hedging, still so afraid of over overstepping Haru’s boundaries again after all the things Haru had said beneath the fireworks….
Makoto chuckled softly, knowingly, then Haru felt his chest expand, Makoto’s shoulders broadening with the intake. “Doesn’t mean I won’t miss you...,” came as an exhale.
Haru’s breath caught, his lungs empty as if Makoto had breathed out for him, too.
Makoto laughed again, too loudly. “All the time, probably—things aren’t nearly as scary when you’re there!” His shoulder rolled slightly, involuntarily beneath Haru. “...But it’ll be good for both of us, you’ll see. New perspectives highlight what we love about how things are, ...what we might want for the future, don’t you think?”
Haru heard the unspoken you’s again, but there was something else, too…. Something that made his chest tighten differently...
Makoto understood the volumes of Haru’s silence, Haru’s stillness. His reply was a true whisper this time: “But not everything has to change, Haru. Not if we don’t want it to.”
Makoto had spoken directly this time, no underlying you’s; there had been hope in his voice, certainty and quiet confidence, patience. Haru let Makoto’s words wrap around him; let them sink in and find purchase, let them wash away and replace the anxiety that had swept over him.
With another little sigh, Haru’s fingers slipped from the braided cotton, letting his knuckles graze the length of Makoto’s palm, catching another second of that warmth. He took a step back, watched as a true laugh shook through Makoto, as red colored his ears.
“You might have to get better at using your phone, though.” Makoto’s voice was louder now, clear and warm as his shoulder had been against Haru’s skin. Finally, he turned, green searching for blue.
“You know I hate texting,” Haru grumbled, glancing out at his small balcony, not quite ready for the surge that would come with meeting the verdancy of Makoto’s eyes, ...instead finding the little rosemary plant the twins had given him for graduation.
“I do,” Makoto laughed, deep and sincere, and followed Haru’s gaze.
The time for hard freezes in Tokyo had passed; Haru was in no danger of breaking his promise to Ren of keeping it alive. Ran had told him she hoped its blue flowers would remind him of the ocean.... Their mother had given him a kiss on the cheek and a series of new mackerel recipes that featured the Mediterranean herb....
“They’d love a picture of it out there.”
They would, the Tachibana’s deserved a photo at the very least. “Tomorrow.” Haru nodded and turned back to find Makoto looking at his watch, smiling ruefully at the placement of the hands.
“I really do have to go now. Should’ve known we’d lose track of time again—I could’ve just brought my stuff for tomorrow and rolled out of bed and into the pool like you! Well, off the futon.”
At that, Haru’s eyes finally made the leap to Makoto’s. He’d hoped Makoto would want to continue the routine they’d started in their last few days of freedom once classes began, but the extra commute before class on top of Makoto’s college workload….
“I’ll only be getting up a little earlier than we did for ISC in middle school. Don’t worry.” Makoto smiled, kind eyes crinkling to a close. “And besides, I can’t just stop swimming, can I?”
Haru nodded, lips tilting up slightly in return. “Text me when you get back to your place.”
Makoto grinned—just a little—at Haru’s sudden willingness to utilize technology.
Haru rolled his eyes, hoping to distract from the color on his cheeks. “Goodnight, Makoto.”
At least Haru wasn’t the only one blushing….
—
Despite Makoto’s reassurances, Haru woke up a little apprehensive, a little tight—his jaw and neck, his hands, his calves—like his body had drawn itself taut overnight. He and Makoto would be in the pool within an hour, ...but mornings like this one were why he and Makoto had hunted for an apartment with a suitable bathtub.
Some mornings, he just needed to wake up to water.
And not a minute after submerging himself, Haru’s phone buzzed at the edge of the tub. He’d brought it with him...just in case. In case maybe he didn’t hate phones as much as he once did, ...in case Makoto read his mind like he always did.
Haru allowed himself a small smile for the first two rings, the remnants of that smile still tilting his lips up when he swiped open the Facetime call.
Makoto grinned wide and bright. “Good morning, Haru-chan!”
Haru gave a brief flicker of a grin, ...then dropped his phone.
“H-Haru!” came Makoto’s flailing on the other side, half a second before his phone broke the surface of the bath. The water garbled Makoto’s voice as his phone drifted to land face-down on his jammers: “Nwwwoooh!! H-Hawu?! Hawu!”
A moment later, Haru took pity on his oldest friend and fished out his phone, only just keeping himself from a full-blown grin.
“Haru!” Makoto cheered, the video shaking with his relief. He’d brought his phone up close, as if he were playing a particularly difficult scene of a video game and had a say in the view, ...rather than being the other half of a FaceTime call. “I-I thought I’d just watched you drown your parents’ graduation present!”
“You got me a waterproof case for it, remember?” Haru couldn’t keep the mirth from his voice, watching realization slowly dawn on Makoto’s face.
Makoto let out a loud laugh; green, green eyes closing in self-deprecation as he slapped his forehead. “I did, didn’t I?”
“That’s what you get for calling me ‘Haru-chan.’” He didn’t quite manage not to sound petulant, but that was okay. He hadn’t really tried, not when he knew it would make Makoto let out another laugh; crinkle up the corners of his eyes in that warm, perfect way. Not when he was determined to never take that sound for granted again.
“Mmm,” Makoto hummed casually. “Sorry, Haru. Old habits and all...”
Haru chuckled, then. Just the once, but it was unguarded under Makto’s fond gaze. He propped his phone against a bottle of shampoo, while Makoto readjusted his from several kilometers away, his image growing smaller. Haru narrowed his eyes as the video focused, only just noticing the apron strings around Makoto’s neck. “Where am I? On your kitchen shelf?”
“Mmhhhmm! I’m making breakfast, something you might want to consider doing so you have time to get all your laps in before your very first day at university!”
Haru hummed noncommittally and sunk deeper into the water, into the comfort of Makoto’s voice. “Your first class is literature, right?”
It was easy to lose track of time with Makoto alternating between chatting and humming some soft K-pop song as he cooked, the quiet sizzles and scrapes of the kitchen lulling him deeper into the bath, his nose only just above the water line.
“I’ll beat you to the pool at this rate, Haru.”
Haru hid his smirk under a stream of bubbles.
A year of this wouldn’t be so bad. Not preferable, ...but not horrible, either. He dragged himself out of the water, phone in hand, and reached for his towel.
“So we’ll get ramen tonight at that place Kisumi recommended? Nagisa and Rei want to hear about our first day and their new recruits, so we can....”
No, it wouldn’t be so bad. And maybe next year… Maybe next year, they’d have a morning routine without phones, without distance.
________
Hope you enjoyed your gift, and I'm so sorry it's late!
First time writing for Free! or MakoHaru—hope I did them justice!!!—but I don’t think it’ll be my last. 💚💙 Might have a few ideas for a continuation of this one, if anyone's interested.... ;)
Thanks for reading!
- @xoxoendoh
#Free!#makoharu#makoto tachibana#haruka nanase#tachibanamakotobirthdayexchange#endoh writes#nanase haruka#tachibana makoto#free! dive to the future
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Beta’s Measurements
@the-hidden-village Perhaps not the greatest Christmas gift, but a promise is a promise:
A dance of shadows and blades, that’s what Beta liked to call it as he worked out at Smoke’s house. Even without an enemy to fight like there was back in his reality he still liked to train. Unlike his parallel universe counterpart Obsi, his weapons were not a claw and daggers but a pair of chakrams he named Flare and Prominence, Flare having three spikes along its circumference and both having a grip in the middle. Although his body was eternally fit to be a gymnast with its medium frame hiding his muscles, he liked to keep his wits sharp. It also helped that the most important person came to watch.
With a final flourish he put his weapons away, just in time for Smoke to fly into his arms and give her a big kiss. “Hey Cuddly Bunny, how’s the love of my life been doing?”
“How I’ve been doing?” Smoke asked sarcastically, thrusting a card at Beta. He already knew what it was before he opened it, but he did anyway. It was a card with a picture of him laid in front of a fireplace, completely naked save for a box in front of his crotch. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s rather funny. But why wait for the holidays for our first time? Got somethin’ to hide...” She purred, gliding a finger down Beta’s chest.
He broke away, his blushing shyness unusual compared to his flirtatious nature to Smoke. “A-As much as I’d like to talk about this longer,” His words were rushed. “I’m all sweaty and smelly from exercising, and I-I’d like to take a shower first.” Before she could object he rushed into the house, slamming and locking the door behind him.
Turning the shower on, he stepped in and tried to put the whole thing behind him. Beta had a lot of reasons to be so concerned, and he was starting to worry that Smoke would start blaming herself. How could he explain that it wasn’t her, that he would’ve slept with her already if it wasn’t for-
Furry appendages shot out in between the shower curtains, wrapping around his body. A nude Smoke followed them, chuckling as she moved behind him. “Nice try, but I’ve locked myself out of here too many times to not find a way in.” She hummed, moving to Beta’s front to show her body off. “We’ve never seen each other naked have we? You’ve got quite the bod, but what do you think of me?”
“You’re...” Beta hissed as her hands went lower. “Ravishing, Smoke...” How the rivulets of water ran over her full breasts and fit body, and the four inches of height she had over him were so incredibly sexy to him. He could feel his arousal rise, and Smoke could see it too.
Licking her lips, Smoke took his growing cock in her hands. “Time to inspect my holiday present...” With the aid of the water her hands stroked Beta’s erection, and when he showed no sign of resistance she let her ears go and grabbed a ruler she brought with her. “Let’s start with length, but first to get you to full mast~” She was almost too eager to get him off.
“Unfff, S-Smoke hold on a sec!” Beta’s hips jerked as his cock neared its peak. Finding her chance, she raised the ruler up to his length, whistling as the tip reached past the tool.
“Thirteen, my lucky number~” Smoke’s heart pounded as she started getting hot in the warm water, pulling Beta into her chest. To measure his girth, her ear took its time to curl around his stiff dick and when she could feel the tip of her ear touch itself, she measured that length with the ruler. “And nearly ten around! You’re going to pay me back for trying to hide this from me.” She suddenly pushed him to the back of the shower, kissing him deeply as she grinded her pussy dripping with nectar over the top of his cock.
Beta panted with Smoke, their hips rolling against each other as he was overcome with the feeling of her slick folds. His cock throbbed and bucked, changing slightly. Smoke only noticed when pleasure like nothing before it shot up her spine, a long moan forced out from her. Looking back down at Beta’s cock, she found that a series of ridges on the top that went from base to a head crowned with spikes, each one bumping her clit ans smearing her mound with burning hot precum. “Hah...hahhhh....wow...”
“That’s not even the half of it.” Beta whispered as he turned the tables, pushing Smoke to the floor of the bathtub, revealing another two lines of ridges on either side of the precum filled tube on the bottom. “You forgot to measure something.” He taunted, taking Smoke’s hand and guided it to his balls, swelling with cream. Smoke was still stunned by everything else, but she could tell that they were at least four inches around.
“You’d be surprised at how much cum I can shoot out of this cannon of mine.” Beta teased, thrusting his entire length against Smokes’s clit, watching her writhe and shout as his ridges made her cum without even penetrating her. “That is, my Amazon of a mate, if you don’t tire out before then~”
Smoke wasn’t going to take that lying down. “That tears it!” She shut off the showerhead, grabbed Beta and flew out of the bathroom, dripping wet, and made her way toward her bed. “We’re settling this, now!”
Beta was in no position to argue, and he wanted to see if her stamina was truly endless. After an afternoon, night and the following dawn of vigorous sex, five explosive orgasms, and over half a gallon of whipped cream flavored cum, the best he could do was get a draw as he fell asleep entwined with the love of his life.
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