#very happy with how the revised edition turned out | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

indecisivemuch · 10 months ago

Text

Look at me

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Reader

Summary: Being oblivious to Luke’s feelings, you tried to get over him by getting a boyfriend, who just does not know how to treat you right. Inspired by the song ‘Boyfriend’ by Dove Cameron ~ “I could be a better boyfriend than him.” (jealous luke, friends-to-lovers, fluff, angst, pining, happy ending.)

Warning: Just the boyfriend being an asshole and unwanted physical touch for a split second, but nothing serious. Sorry if your name is Cole. Violence (physical fighting)

Note: I’m sorry if there are a lot of errors, I haven’t had the chance to edit this thoroughly so if it feels like a train wreck, then I'm sorry. I just needed to write this out, get it out there, so I can go back to revising for my exams in peace lol, cause this plot/idea has been at the back of my head, I could not stop thinking about it or study properly. Lowkey hated how this one turned out, but whoops.

Word count: 4.8k

“People say that eyes are the windows to one's soul,” you once told him. You two have been best friends for a very long time: five years of being attached to the hip. Yet, you were completely oblivious to the way he looked at you. Even everybody at camp noticed and thought it was bound to happen. They were so sure that Luke and you would end up together. So imagine everybody’s surprise when something else occurred.

It happened right in front of Luke: Cole - a boy from Cabin 5 and son of Ares - asked you out, and you said yes.

It has been two months since that day. All Luke could do was sulk as he watched his best friend slip away. Of course, you still tried to spend as much time as possible with him. But even then, things have changed. There were no more of those content silences between the two of you. There were no more carefree laughs that made Luke feel like you two were the only ones that existed in this place. He used to walk you back to your cabin every night, hugging you good night or kissing your forehead close to your hairline if he felt brave enough. Moments like those convinced him you two would be like that forever. But his solace was taken in a split second. Now, you were so near, yet so out of reach.

It didn’t help that he saw you every day, like right now, as you sat in the middle of a gathering hosted by your cabin. Gods, even the wind seems to be in love with you, judging by the way it was blowing through your hair as if it was trying to twirl itself around those lovely locks that Luke himself used to always tug behind your ears. The sight of you always bathed him in this warm feeling, like the morning sun. Hence his nickname for you: sunshine.

Then his brown eyes landed on the figure next to you, and they hardened. He has witnessed it all: Cole’s backhanded compliments, ignoring you on your birthday, leaving you alone to talk to his friends, occasionally flirting back with girls who batted an eyelash at him, and then blatantly telling you that you were overthinking it. Luke knew he could treat you so much better.

You were sitting with your boyfriend and his group of friends, who often gave you weird looks or snickers. Gods, if it was him you were with, he’d never make you feel excluded. He would have his arms around you and defend you if his friends ever made snarky remarks. Not that that would ever happen anyway; you were well-loved at camp, and all his friends loved you. But he would treat you well, nevertheless, not like that dumbass sitting next to you.

One of your favorite songs started playing, and Luke watched as you genuinely smiled for once tonight. You touched your boyfriend’s arm, muttering something to him. Luke knew exactly what you were saying to Cole because you and Luke used to do this together. Except, you never had to ask Luke.

Whenever your favorite tunes were on, Luke would immediately pull you out of your seat and dance with you, laughing as if nothing mattered at all. Nights like those, he liked to imagine that the stars above envied them and what the two of you had. Now? He felt like one of them, watching from the outside.

Luke’s jaw clenched as he saw Cole shrugging off your hand on his arm. Gods, Luke felt like that idiot was taking you for granted, and his blood boiled. Before Cole, Luke used to always orchestrated some excuse to have you touch him - getting injured on purpose sometimes just to watch you frantically panic over his wounds and take care of him, volunteering to help you out with swords training just to touch your hand and pretend to adjust the way you were holding it, hugging you every time he greeted you and so on.

For a second, your mask slipped, and you had that look on your face, like something had left you emotionally wounded. It was the kind of look Luke would kill to never see again, and oh, the things he would do to get rid of Cole. Luke had to wrestle with the thought of marching up to Cole and beating him to a pulp. However, he did stand up to approach you.

You felt a hand touch your shoulder. When you peered at the person standing, your eyes immediately glimmered as they caught Luke’s. However, something foreign was gleaming in his eyes. The Hermes boy has always looked at you sweetly. But the way he was looking at you right now was filled with something much more intense - borderline fervent, like an obsession.

Cole finally glanced over at you for the first time the entire night. Unlike you, he instantly recognized the look in Luke’s eyes: hunger and longing. It was clear as day to everybody but you.

Luke extended his hand out for you to take and you understood right away. For the first time in two months, your hand touched his. Luke’s chest sunk and his breathing lost its usual rhythm for a second as your skin made contact with his. The Hermes boy finally looked over to Cole, and the Ares boy saw an immediate shift in his eyes. Now, they were filled with animosity and - the most obvious of all - heated jealousy.

Luke led you away from Cole and started twirling you around. You let out a laugh - the kind that was infectious and has always brought a smile to Luke’s lips. You both sang along to the lyrics. For once, your relationship felt restored, just like the good old days. Was it wrong that this was the happiest you have felt since you got together with Cole? You shrugged away the thought as the song slowly ended. Luke settled with both hands on your waist while yours were around his neck. Usually, you would put your head on his chest as you both slightly swayed around. But now that you were in a relationship, you kept a bit of distance between the two of you. You gaze up at Luke, who was already staring at you sweetly. The moment was perfect. Gods, you almost wished to stay in it forever.

Meanwhile, Luke hoped he could convey his thoughts through his eyes - the unspoken words he wished he had told you sooner. Could you not see the infatuation coursing through his veins whenever he was with you? Could you not see that you got him at your beck and call?

The look you gave him almost convinced him that you heard his thoughts. You leaned your head on his chest, caught off-guard by the speed of his heartbeat as it soothed you along with the music in the background. Feeling a heated look over his way, Luke glanced around and locked eyes with your boyfriend. Cole narrowed his eyes while Luke gave Cole a look of resentment and immense loathing.

Gods, he could be a much better boyfriend than Cole.

“Hey, man,” when you heard your boyfriend’s voice, you lifted your head from Luke’s chest and withdrew your hands around his neck. “I’ll take over from here,” Cole practically pulled you away from Luke and started swaying with you. Instead of feeling happy that Cole finally danced with you after two months of dating, you felt wrong. Cole's hands were on your waist, but they felt sluggish like his heart was not in it at all. Your ear was against Cole’s chest, so you caught the sound of his heartbeat. It sounded…too calm, almost cold and shallow, causing you to twist your lips into a frown.

You glanced up at your boyfriend but saw him staring behind you instead. So you glanced back and caught a glimpse of Luke before getting pulled around by Cole, who roughly yanked your face towards him. He kissed you almost aggressively. There was something cynical and bitter about the way he was kissing you.

Cole opened his eyes and conceitedly made eye contact with Luke. The Hermes boy glared at the sight of Cole handling you so roughly, claiming your lips so smugly. If it was him, he would be kissing you for you; he would be kissing you to show you how much he worshiped you and the ground you walk on, not to prove an empty point.

You finally managed to pull away when Cole let go of your chin. “All right, we’re done for the night, don’t you think?” your boyfriend muttered, quickly leaving you to return to his friends as if nothing had happened. Despite feeling slightly aggravated at Cole, you hated that you couldn't care less of his words at that moment, and the first thing you did was look in the direction Luke had been before.

Yet, he was not there anymore.

~~~

Your cabin was not on the same side as Luke’s cabin for this match of capture the flag. You were fighting off some people who were on the blue team. Years of training with Luke paid off because you managed to point your sword at the person’s neck and grinned when they put their hands up in surrender. You continued perusing through the area, trying to regroup with your team or take down another blue team member. However, you almost tripped as you witnessed Cole on the ground with Luke on top of him, repeatedly punching his face..

“Luke!” you called out, watching as Luke’s action faltered, and his eyes darted around frantically around like a lost wild animal. However, Cole took advantage of Luke’s momentary distraction to land a hit on Luke’s face. The Ares boy got off the ground as Luke stumbled and went for another punch. However, Luke dodged it effortlessly and rammed Cole against a tree instead.

“Hey, knock it off,” you yelled, standing between the boys to stop their flight. Luke immediately backed off, afraid he would accidentally hurt you if he didn’t. But Cole, in the middle of his blind rage, still swung for Luke and ended up striking you across the face instead. Right when that happened, Luke pushed Cole again and rushed to your side to assess your injury. At that very moment, Chiron approached the scene with one of Cole’s friends next to him, who promptly told the man:

“It was him. Luke initiated the fight.”

~~~

Luke wished for somebody to put him out of this misery as he stared at you from afar helplessly. He was so dotted that it hurt. Somebody must have answered his prayers because your eyes met his from across the field. There was a bit of sadness behind them, perhaps regret from how things ended yesterday. You whispered something to your boyfriend, but Cole did not even spare you a glance and waved his hand as if dismissing you from the discussion. Luke’s hand once again curled into a fist. He bit the inside of his cheek from the pain induced by his injury. The Hermes cabin counselor felt no bit of guilt in his body about his physical altercation with Cole. He felt smug at the sight of Cole with one black eye, busted lip, swollen cheek and a body sporting way more bruises than him.

You deserved better.

“Hey, stranger,” you greeted, sitting beside Luke. Almost immediately, he hooked one finger under your chin, tilting your head lightly as if he was afraid he might break you. The boy scanned over your injury, sighing at the sight of purple forming under your skin, indicating an emerging bruise. Even so, under the moonlight, you still looked heavenly to him.

“Devon said you initiated the fight. Is that true, Luke?” Luke frowned at the mention of Cole’s friend. Great, now he knew another idiot’s name. Meanwhile, you have asked this because you knew him. There was no way the boy you knew would lose control like this and swing his hands first.

“No, but what’s the point of telling Chiron that? It’s two against one,” he breathed out.

“Luke, you’re literally the friendliest and nicest counselor here. Of course, he would believe you,” you reasoned. You sighed disappointingly as Luke only shook his head in response as if asking you to drop it.

Now, you two sat in silence. It felt the same as the comforting ones you have had with him before - the ones that made you feel like you were at home in front of your fireplace, curled up with a book.

“Why are you with him?” and with that, the comfort evaporated as the air thickened. You and Luke rarely argued or even disagreed, so it felt like an unfamiliar territory every time it felt relatively tense between you two.

“I know you, which is why I know that you’re absolutely miserable with him, so I don’t understand why you’re still with Cole,” Luke commented, though his voice was quiet because he was considerate of drawing this type of attention to you. He had seen it before - Cole causing public altercations and storming off and you running after him with tears emerging from your eyes. He did not want to put you in the same position.

“Y/N, please, as your best friend…” there it was again, the word that used to make you smile brightly, was now the same one that brought you pain. You wanted more. “...You deserve better,” he uttered, his eyebrows slightly scrunched as he looked at you with those eyes. There it was again, the look so intense that you were convinced they could swallow you whole. Yet, you could not interpret them. So, you looked away.

“Luke…” you said his name almost like a warning sign. The boy sighed at this.

His fingers gently tilted your chin towards him, urging you to face him. There was so much contrast in the way he touches you and the way Cole does. You knew precisely why Luke wanted you to look at him: your eyes were your tell for him. Years ago, after you told him that eyes were the windows to one's soul, he told you that he knew this already because he had learned that your eyes will always tell the truth for you. That’s how, in so many instances, he would be the first to notice whenever you're upset.

“Y/N, does he make you happy?” you stiffened at the question. Words choked up in your throat as your mouth opened to answer. You wanted to say yes so you both could get over this conversation. But you knew he would be able to tell you were lying. The way he looked at you right now, as if you were the only thing that mattered. He seemed so vulnerable. Little did you right at this moment, Luke was willing to surrender and let you go if you said yes.

“Oh, this is who you left me to talk to?” Cole's voice broke you both out of the trance. “The person who beat your boyfriend?” Cole passive-aggressively spat, sneering from above as he looked down at the two of you. You called out to your boyfriend, but he quickly cut you off with a quick “Unbelievable,” before walking away. But Cole did this on purpose. He liked the attention he drew, even if they were at your expense, especially because he knew you would chase after him.

“I’m so sorry,” you muttered to Luke on your boyfriend's behalf as you stood up to run after him. Luke frowned as he shook his head. If you were his, he would never allow you to apologize on his behalf, nor would he give a reason for you to ever do that.

“Uhm, what are you waiting for?” Annabeth’s voice broke Luke from his irritated state. “Go after her,” the young girl nudged.

“I doubt I should do that, Annabeth. Last time I was with him, he ended up in the infirmary.”

“Yes, but you need to go after her before it’s too late.”

“It’s already too late.”

“No, it’s not,” the girl stated sternly, and when Luke peered over at her, he recognized the look on her face. From experience, he knew better than to doubt when Annabeth was right. So, he stood up and walked in the direction where you disappeared after your boyfriend.

“Stop it, Cole. I don’t want to…” Your voice grabbed Luke’s attention as he started walking in that direction, eyebrows furrowed.

“Come on, this is the least you could do to make it up to me,” Cole replied.

When Luke reached the scene, he almost went into an uncontrollable wrath when he saw Cole trying to take off your shirt as you objected and struggled out of his grip.

“I said ‘let go,’ Cole,” you yelled this time, pushing him back. Upon finally doing so successfully, a figure stormed past you and immediately flung at Cole’s cheek, right at the spot that was already bruising. The impact knocked Cole to the ground as he wailed from the pain. Averting your gaze to the person, you saw Luke. Like a deranged bull, Luke grabbed Cole by the collar and lifted him up, going in for another hit, but you quickly stopped him, calling out his name.

Cole, who did not learn his lesson, spoke again, “Gods, of course! He runs to your aid again. You must be a good fuck for him to get this attached. How many times have you fucked him, huh? Gods, you’re such a whore, you know that?” If it were not for your hands stopping Luke and removing his grip from Cole’ shirt, Luke would have ensured Cole no longer had a face.

“Cole, stay the fuck away from me. We are over.” Your words seemed to affect Luke more than Cole. It was as if Luke could feel an immense weight being lifted from his shoulders. “Let’s go, this is not worth it,” you told Luke. Cole barked a laugh at this.

“Man, you’re more trouble than it's worth. Do you know why no guys ever asked you out? You’re fucking difficult and clingy, that’s why. If it was not for that fucking bet, I would not have either.” Luke was about to launch at Cole but was caught off guard because you had already done it yourself. You punched him, aiming for his nose and teeth, making sure to break a few.

“You fucking bitch!” Cole spoke after he howled in agony. He spat out blood as his nose started bleeding, “Gods, you’re gonna pay for this.”

“Oh yeah? Come on!” you challenged him, motioning him to come over. Any sense of calm or restraint you had was long gone. “I’ll be the one sending you to the fucking infirmary this time,” right when you started approaching Cole again, you were quickly stopped by Luke. He stood behind you, one of his hands soothingly rubbing your back in an attempt to calm you down. Luke averted his gaze to Cole.

“If you know any better, then leave, Cole. And don’t come near any of us again, or I promise you…” Luke trailed off, shaking his head as his eyes bore the weight of the promise he left unsaid, leaving it to Cole’s imagination as to what Luke would ever do to him if he ever saw the boy again. Something seemed to dawn on Cole as he saw the dark look on Luke’s face. Cole finally decided to leave the scene, limping away from the area as he muttered some insults under his breath.

You turned around and inspected Luke’s hand, which started bleeding again through the bandage. Taking his non-injured hand in yours, you wordlessly dragged the boy to the infirmary. Despite the excruciating pain spreading through his injured hand, Luke blushed at your action and followed you like a lost puppy.

The Apollo person on shift was someone you knew, so you managed to convince them to let you do the work on the Hermes boy. You observed his hand again, peeling off the dirty bandage from it. As you went to grab disinfectant, Luke softly held you back by flipped over his hand that was in yours so that he could take a look at your hand instead.

“Are you okay?” His words made you swiftly look over at him instead. There was a sad look on his face as he sat on the infirmary bed. You haven’t seen him this hurt and dejected in a long time.

“Am I okay? You’re the one with the bleeding hand.”

“You punched him quite hard.”

“He deserved it,” you settled on answering, hesitantly pulling your hand out of his so you could grab the things you needed.

“You know I had that handled, right?” you asked mindlessly, trying to fill the silence as you disinfected his hand and wrapped a new bandage over it. “I don’t need you to defend my honor or anything, Luke. I can hold my own ground,” you tried joking.

“No, I know you can hold your own ground. Besides, I wasn’t defending your honor,” he spoke softly, watching as you delicately held his hand with so much care. He wished you could hold him like that as well. A quivering sigh escaped his soft lips, his voice much less firm than he wanted it to be:

“I was defending the girl I’m in love with.”

You immediately looked at him, only to see him already gazing up at you. It was as if a blindfold had been taken off, you finally understood what your other friends were referring to when they said that Luke had always “looked” at you. His eyes were filled with adoration. However, this time, they were also decorated with pain.

“I could be a better boyfriend than him,” he stated, almost like it was a fact, and your gut knew it was true, too.

“So….Why not me? I watched you give Cole - a complete asshole - a chance with you. I watched him give you so much less than what you deserve. It pains me, but I still sit here and wait for you to look in my direction for even one second in the way I have always looked at you. I could be so good to you, Y/N. I waited for you to realize I could be the one who loves you so endlessly and treats you way better than all these guys combined. So…why? Please tell me why and put me out of my misery. Why is it not me?”

“Luke…” you rasped out his name. Despite the pain he was in, his heart could not help but throb for a second as it yearned for the sound of your voice calling out to him again. He almost scowled at himself for the way he was reacting to you. Gods, you managed to unravel him through the sound of his name from your lips. He hesitated for a second, wondering if he would even be able to take it at all - if he was given a chance with you. Would he be able to handle the way your skin felt against his, or would his heart burst into unstoppable flames? Would he ever be able to move on if you ended up breaking his heart, or would it remain in scattered pieces of you?

“I love you,” he uttered so effortlessly, which almost convinced you he had said it a thousand times before. In a way, he did, but only in his mind after every time he bid you goodnight. Gods, never did you think he’d say it out loud and put it out there. You almost said it before as well - out loud to the universe, but never brave enough.

“Luke, I never knew,” Luke wanted to sigh as he looked away from you. For the first time ever, he did not want to be vulnerable and let you see his eyes. The same ones that had been looking longingly at you for the past five years, and you were too blinded to see.

He could have sworn that he had been laying it on thick for the past years - all the touches, the looks, his actions. Luke would always linger near you and select you first every time he had to go on a quest. And if he ever were selected to go on one without you, the first thing he would do after returning is wrap his arms around your waist as he pulled you into a hug, breathing in your presence like it would bring him back to life from the gruesome battles he had to go through while out of camp. Did all those actions throughout five years not show you enough that he was infatuated with you? He wanted to reassure you that what Cole said previously was not true. Many guys wanted you but never asked you out because they knew he would be first in line no matter what.

"Luke, please, look at me," Of course he obeyed. His eyes met yours - the ones he always tried to find in a crowd of demigods.

“I never knew that you were an option. I did not know that I could choose you. I thought that even attempting to tell you about my feelings would break our friendship forever. I didn’t know you felt this way, too. In fact,” you dryly chuckled. “I was giving Cole a chance because I was trying to move on from you.” Luke tugged you closer to him, his fingers lingering on your hips. Thousands of thoughts speared through him as he tried to collect himself. A glimmer of hope presented itself as his mind toyed with the idea of you wanting him too.There was no way he was letting you move on now, not when you both have mutual feelings.

“I thought I was deep in the friend zone. Did you not see all the moves I pulled on you?” he asked.

“What moves?”

“Uhm—the physical contact?”

“I thought you were just touchy.”

“I walked you back to your cabin every night!”

“Well, I thought it was just a best friend thing?”

“The first thing I do after every quest is search for you, you’re always the first one I want to see.”

“I really, really thought it was because you were my best friend.” He groaned at all of your responses.

“But do know, Luke. You have always been my first option in everything. And I would have chosen you again and again, the first pick every round…if I knew you were up for it.” He groaned again, but this time out of temptation and satisfaction. He didn’t think the metaphorical butterflies were real. He slowly but surely stood up from the infirmary’s bed and wrapped his arms around your waist. You reciprocated, your hands around his neck. He leaned closer to you and gulped. He wanted to say the right words, do the right things and not mess this up. He took a deep breath and finally settled on what to say next.

“Can I kiss you?” He muttered in a low, raspy voice with a restrained manner, as if he was holding himself back. Five years of pining led him to this point. You almost melted at the sound of his voice.

“Kiss me, Luke.”

And he did. He pulled you up and arched down, connecting your lips together. He dove in as if he had been waiting for this day his whole life. He felt every breath knocked out of his lungs. He sunk himself into this moment like he was living for it rather than in it. He kissed you as if it was the only time he could and as if you would evaporate if he stopped. His hands moved to your face to embrace your cheeks in his palm.

You started moving your hands up his head and played with his curly hair. You tugged it slightly, and the action drew a moan from Luke. The sound caused you to break away. It made you flustered that you had evoked such an alluring sound from the Hermes boy.

“I wanna go slow for you, I really do. But it feels like I’ve been waiting for so long. I want to be a gentleman and not skip steps. But I can’t wait anymore,” he whispered before whimpering against your lips, “please be mine.”

He went in for another kiss again, but you pulled away. His heart clenched at this. The boy bit his lip and wanted to scowl at himself for attempting to speed things up. He was too greedy and wanted things too quickly for you. He almost whined at the thought of losing the chance he barely had.

“That was not a question, Luke. Ask me, and I’ll give you an answer,” he stared into your eyes, and it almost set him on fire. He never saw that much passion in them before. It almost matched his, and that made his heart fasten again.

“Will you be mine, sunshine?”

“Yes, Luke. As long as you’re mine too.”

“I have always been yours.”

——————————

masterlist

Join my Luke Castellan tag list

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan x you #luke castellan oneshot #luke castellan #luke castellan fanfiction #pjo fic #pjo #charlie bushnell #pjo imagine #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo tv show #pjo series #friends to lovers

4K notes · View notes

thatdeadaquarius · 2 years ago

Note

sagau with the language barrier issue except... the creator is sick and tired of trying to ask for things so they do everything themself.

and it gives their followers mass anxiety bc they can't even ask what you're doing... bc they know they won't understand anything...

SUCH A GENIUS NARVI 10/10 GOOD WORK SORRY IM SUPER LATE BUT THIS IS *chefs kiss*

Like, that's literally how I feel like I first played Genshin LMAO

Also this has a cont. Part 2 at the bottom bc tumblr fucking hates me UPDATE I FIXED IT THANK FUCK

Paimon was like "and then we go to Mondstadt- ! NO, not Wolvendom, to Mondstadt! NOT THE THOUSAND WIND TEMPLE WITH ENEMIES OUT OF UR LEAGUE, ENTER MONDSTADT FOR THE FIRST TIME BEFORE U EXPLORE THE REST OF THE MAP!! >:("

SO MANY IDEAS YET SO LITTLE WRITING SKILL GUYS HELP-

Also warning this is ROUGH in terms of spelling and editing and im so sorry abt that! I have my art show today so you're welcome to come back if you want to see it a little more readable tomorrow lmao

Edit Update 4/6/23:

Revised and fixed all the bad spelling and grammar (hopefully) so make sure to give another read if you havent read the cleaned up version lol

I dont have a beta reader so its just me trying my best ok-

Everything was like kinda chaos tbh at first

WOW- MY FIRST 1,000+ NOTES POST??!?! U GUYS, WHAT ARE R YOU DOIN??!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH!! IM GLAD U GUYS ENJOYED IT SM!! Also look out for more encoded stuff in the future since i mentioned wanting to continue stuff like this + ARG stuff :) <3

Edit 9/7/23: 2,000+ NOTES?? THANK YOU???

Like u wake up under the Irminsul, and u think ur hallucinating a goddamn gacha game for like a solid 5 minutes, or ur lucid dreaming,

but once u actually took what felt like hours to process that u might actually be in fucking Genshin Impact-

Nahida came running from, somewhere?? Its kinda just very floaty dreamy in here so, unclear, she’s beaming with a giddy little smile (💘)

It’s… so much more than what her game model could manage.

I mean, you knew that, of course you did, but- to see the tiny goddess smiling in person, her cute chubby arms waving in the air, her cheeks all plump with baby fat from her excited smile, pretty green eyes that sparkle only in the way excited toddlers do-

It was just…wow. 🥺

You can’t help it, her sheer carefree excitement, exactly like a child but you know that she must be really overwhelmed with joy if shes letting herself act like that so blatantly, you feel ur muscles tug gently into a smile, you try to muffle it but ur happiness leaks out anyway

She's panting as she stumbles on short chubby legs to reach you.

After just staring at you with those big green clover eyes for a few seconds, she physically shakes her head to knock herself out of it,

Nahida places her hand over her heart, and bows elegantly, going back to looking at you with a small but bright smile, her voice is kind of quiet, muffled in a soft way, much like her game depiction,

“Hzozn! R'ev yvvm dzrgrmt gl nvvg blf! R wrwm'g gsrmp blf dlfow wvhxvmw fmgro R dzh zg ovzhg z uvd gslfhzmw bvzih low!” *

…Nahida begins to look a little concerned… her eyes get impossibly bigger.

…Oh no.

♧

Nahida had apparently quickly spread the news that you can’t understand them, but luckily it seems like all the characters still know you!

Alhaitham is pretty much a constant by your side, you knew he was vaguely studying linguistics in the akademiya… but that knowledge still didn’t prepare you to be intensely stared at with his diamond pupils for hours. 💀

Then he’d tap your shoulder or something, and you quickly picked up that he wanted you to just try and say something.

Then he would scribble for hours.

Turns out they can understand you about as much as you understand Teyvat language (s? You can’t even tell if there are multiple languages, that’s how unrecognizable this language is, damn)

The more extroverted or friendly people, like Venti, Yoimiya, Kazuha, Jean, Noelle, Amber, Xingqiu, Hu Tao, Zhongli, Ganyu, Barbara, Beidou, Collei, Ayaka, Gorou, Nilou

At least attempt to talk to you, and try very hard to watch what you gesture with your hands or body language

They're pretty much ready to play charades at all times for you lol

Interestingly enough, they only ever understood you when you typed in the chat (with other ppl)

But even then not immediately,

Sumeru scholars basically had to make a whole new department (regardless of how much you play with others) to decipher your ancient language (to them) like those old clay tablets with cuneiform we’re still translating?

Like that, your words appear in elemental magic heavy places (so like that abyss lang. It’ll appear on walls or structures, so like Andrius’ stone colosseum? in Wolvendom gained some of your chat replies inscribed and glowing a rainbow of colors on the top edges of the walls)

Much like the abyss language you see throughout genshin, most Teyvat scholars (across nations/internationally) agreed your language is the oldest form of language known!

It’s like modern languages having roots in older ones, like English with Latin, greek, or German roots, or Sanskrit and the Prakrit for Hindi language today

…so of course no one really speaks the root languages anymore, because they’re so old, so those ancestors who spoke those languages would have little to no understanding of their modern counterparts…

◇

Occasionally if you turned your mic on for whatever reason there would be a gentle whisper on the winds in Mondstadt of your voice,

or your laugh in the waves washing ashore in Inazuma and Fontaine,

your startled noises or screams from battling bosses mixed with the landslides in the mountains of Liyue

So they know what you sound like, but that doesn’t mean they understood your language :/

Nahida had been hoping that you’re actual physical form being here would help improve the language barrier

But unfortunately, those things remained the same, but at least you were physically here to talk to now and give more content for the scholars to study rather than them having to make do with your snippets of language from chats

…so needless to say, it took you a long time to realize they viewed you as a god of sorts.

You kind of knew something was up when at least two allogenes were by your sides at all times, or eremites would replace them if they really couldn’t stick around

You figured they knew you weren’t nearly as combatant-ready as they were at all times, hell you obviously didn’t have a vision hanging off you somewhere, and you only really had a knife strapped to a belt, courtesy of the Thirty Corps

You are still kind of convinced that the people of Teyvat, or Sumeru at least, are just pretty polite (and in the allogenes case, very kind or friendly, even people like Alhaitham or Cyno, resting bitch faces they have, seem to soften a little when they’re walking around with you… maybe you’re just imagining it…)

And as much as you would love to wait until they understand you to do something more fun, as you can see the frustration on Tighnari’s face (and his ears try to flatten back hehe) as he looked like he was debating heatedly with some of the Sumeru sages who insist you stay in the city

…so why not go?

It’s not like they’re going to get it anytime soon, and it’s still too frustrating for yourself to charade things or draw things for them because you can’t even hear their guesses 💀

You can totally handle being like the traveler too,

You still have access to your inventory afterall! Plus, lucky for you, you still find a pass for the Serenitea Pot in your little pocket dimension!

So now you have somewhere to sleep at night, and while most of your stuff went to the traveler’s pack, the things like Primogems

(which.. Okay now you really want primogems bc theyre so pretty and shiny irl)✨️

And other high-level things, or just objects of no use for the traveler (so basically all your hoarded level up stuff and infinite amount of weapons lol) came along with you

So you did have to wander the first week or so around the city and even commission the Adventurer’s Guild to grab you food supplies to cook with

Filling up, along with a few big waterskins, you’re off!

...and everyone collectively has a heart attack!

◇

When you show up in Ghandaraville essentially all “✨️💖☺️✨️” on Tighnari’s doorstep-

He chokes on the tea he’d been sipping on before he opened the door lol

He looks a little frazzled so you try to just gesture with “calm yourself small animal” energy with your hands

“Tivzgvhg Oliw! R'n- R- sld wrw blf-?! Mvevinrmw, xlnv rm, xlnv rm, ivhg! ...R mvvw gl hvmw z nroorlm ovggvih mld gl ylgs gsv vmgriv xrgb lu Hfnvif, gsv Zxgrmt Tizmw Hztv, zmw gsv Nzgiz nlhg orpvob…” he began out looking at you and talking and gesturing to his small dining table (the game sucks, his house looks great and has lots of cool rooms filled with interesting plants… oooo…so pretty...)

But then he kinda just devolved into rambling, no need to understand, you can read the vibes and just know that's what he's doing lol

Collei eventually ducks in, and she looks a little panicked?

She’s quickly followed by Cyno, pushing past her to call out into the house,

His voice seems hard and stressed, looking at Tighnari, “Grtsmzir, szev blf hvvm gsv Tivzgvhg Oliw zmbdsviv, gsvb dviv hvvm xlnrmt gl Tszmwziezeroov ozhg-”

Cyno stops and blinks.

Collei’s mouth is slightly dropped open, she also just, blinks.

You blink.

Tighnari blinks tiredly, he looks like he’d rather be done for the day, you think.

The doctor sighs, and moves his head to nod towards the other dining seats.

◇

Sumeru foods are so much better looking in real life, and they’re so good too, your practically bloated by the end of dinner,

As a thank you, bc u cant say it obv, you just gesture for Tighnari to stay sitting, and he gives you a raised eyebrow and a suspicious ear twitch

But stays still, and you reach out to finally hit the eight-pointed star hovering over his, and all playable characters chests at all times.

Like you suspected, it brings up a holographic character menu, but rather than his full model, it kind of hovers in front of Tighnari’s face, replacing his old 3D model self with framing the real thing for a portrait just in front of his face

The poor Denro user nearly jumps a foot out of his chair as he looks in shock at your screen, you do the same “chillll boy” gesture with your hands and press his shoulders for a second to remind him to not run off or panic

Cyno and Collei had done the dishes and put up leftovers, and are now standing behind Tighnari, watching with equally wide eyes,

“...Dszg ziv gsvb wlrmt gl blf?

Cyno’s voice is even deeper and quieter than usual, you feel goosebumps run up your spine

“Ziv blf tvggrmt yovhhvw, Nzhgvi Grtsmzir?!” Collei’s sweet voice is also hushed like she’s witnessing something sacred, Tighnari gently shakes his head negatively in response, his shoulders shrugging,

“Nzbyv? R uvvo... z orggov hgilmtvi, zmw nb Erhrlm rh zxgrmt fk zh dvoo…”

Though he’s replying, Tighnari’s eyes haven’t once left your ancient magic? technology device? hovering in front of him,

and as he crosses his arms and squints to try and look closer at everything floating in front of him, you can see the childlike gleam of awe in his green eyes, (so cute) in fact, now that you glance up and look, both Collei and Cyno have the same quietly excited and fascinated sparkle in their eyes too

With a displeased sneer, you chuck his old level one bow into the material grinding spots, hope he wasn’t attached to that…

Oh well, he’ll like the new one better, afterall, with no characters, all your best weapons and artifacts are ready to use!

With a small smile of reassurance, you finally finish gearing Tighnari up, tap a miniature version of that 8-point star in the corner like an “X” button, and it retreats like a classic TV set📺 turning off into his chest, he startles but then carefully stands

You decide to just start making decisions bc its worked out so far ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

And grab his hand and haul him out into the forest, Collei letting out a surprised squeak, her and Cyno hurrying after

You reach the nearest clearing, and gesture at Tighnari like a bow and arrow firing, he gets it, and your glad he already trusts you, because he doesn’t take long to summon his bow

He takes aim at a smaller tree about two cars length away

You can feel them all holding their breathe, as Tighnari charges it with Dendro, the arrowhead glowing, (it looks so cool and badass irl god you feel envious even tho ur already here-)

The ranger lets it fly, it streaks neon green, whistling through the air, it hits the tree-

and it fucking explodes.

Vines and leaves and the trees roots all rapidly swell like theyre filled with water, like it literally got hit by a superhero with plant powers, which, not that far off actually.

The green floating Dendro seeds make a ring around the tree its so full of elemental energy-

You give a wild grin, you still got it, hell yeah. >:)

Your grin widens as you look over at Tighnari, Collei, and Cyno

Cyno has a smirk lighting up his face, eyes eager, Collei’s jaw has dropped and she’s just frozen staring as the tree finally settles from the burst of the dendro powered arrow

…Tighnari has lowered his bow, and his mouth is only slightly open, his ears perked straight up into the air, shaking with excitement? Happiness? Interest? You don’t know how peopl-animal-hybrid ears work,

and you STILL cant talk to any of them to ask what they thought, so looks will have to do >:/

Tighnari is the first to move, his head snapping over to look at you, the brightest, kinda feral tbh, smile taking over his face-

“Blf pmld, dv xzm'g fmwvihgzmw blf, zmw blf fh, bvg R xzm'g dzrg gl hvv dszg rm gsv dliow blf'iv tlrmt gl wl mvcg. Blf'iv znzarmt."

… and you just 🙂? Cool!

And give a thumbs up👍LMAO

☆

Bonus:

Alhaitham was literally running around Sumeru City trying to find you when you left, tho you did try and leave a translatable-in-3-to-5-business days-note, he didn’t have time to translate that because you were gone.

Or worse, lost in the city, and he would never forgive himself if he lost you, esp as Acting Grand Sage-

Kaveh got a letter a day and a half later from Tighnari letting them know you were having a sleepover in Ghandarvaville lol

Kaveh also had to hunt down Alhaitham to give him said news, then force his roommate to go sit or lay down for the rest of the day to recover lmao

(Haitham honestly kinda freaked Kaveh out bc he’s never seen him that... desperate, it was like seeing a statue emote lol)

♡

ARE YOU KIDDING WE ALMOST HIT LIMIT AGAIN?!

Bro has anyone else had this problem???

I literally had to switch from PC to mobile and copy and paste it there to get all my shit in and tumblr not throw a hissy fit???!!!

FUCKING TUMBLR- SUCK MY BIG FAT- 👹👹 UGH

ANYWAYYYY SO I FINALLY CAVED

And started doing ciphers for when you dont get teyvat’s language! I meant to do something fun like this for awhile but I wasn’t sure if that would be kind of annoying, but if you’re interested in learning what they actually say (which the whole point of this is that dw it doesnt rlly matter lol) here’s a hint:

*hint = Atbash

:> good luck!

Wish me luck on my art exhibition today!! Then I’ll be homefreeeee 😭

Safe Travels,

💀♒

♡ the beloveds ♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist

3K notes · View notes

coffeeandcalligraphy · 2 years ago

Text

Things to say about your writing instead of “this is so bad”

My writing doesn’t have to be perfect all the time

The dialogue in this scene feels stale (or another adjective), but I can revise that later

The descriptions lack specificity (or another issue), but I can revise that later

The [another specific craft element] isn’t working the way I’d hoped, but I can revise that later

I don’t feel like I can objectively judge my work at this current moment

I’m not happy with my writing right now, but that doesn’t mean I’ll feel this way forever

I’ll reread this writing at a later time and move on for now

This scene isn’t turning out how I’d pictured in my head, but I can accept that for now and tweak it later

I trust myself to edit this in the future

I’m afraid people are going to judge my work, but I’ll accept that I can’t control the reactions of other people—my reaction matters most

This scene/subplot/character/etc is overwhelming me.

I’ll take my time through this scene/chapter/subplot as more time may allow me to immerse more in the draft.

I’ll write this scene/chapter/subplot as quickly as I can—I would like to get through this part ASAP.

It’s okay to make mistakes in my writing.

I’m not feeling very confident in my craft right now, but I know this will pass

This scene might be bad, and that’s okay. Sometimes I write gems, and sometimes my writing needs a bit more work (that’s normal)

This scene relies on [certain skill] that I’m still honing. I understand to get better at something, I have to practice and practicing requires mistakes.

I’m not excited about this scene right now

I had high expectations for this scene, and unfortunately, I don’t feel like I’m hitting them. However, it’s okay for expectations to change.

I’m disappointed with how my writing is turning out. That’s normal, even though it sucks.

I’m going to remind myself what I DO like about my writing because this feels bad, though I know this feeling won’t last forever.

Sometimes writers need to say “my writing is so bad,” and that’s fine too! Sometimes though, it’s good to note what is specifically wrong in case you need an extra boost forward! <3

#writing #writerblr #amwriting #writeblr #writing tips #encouragement!!!

6K notes · View notes

writingwithcolor · 10 months ago

Text

Is it less offensive to have my black sheriff be a scaredy-cat or trigger-happy?

joeyyygunslinger asked:

I’m conceptualizing a wild-west (I haven't and never will pick a state/year, it's just a generic wild-west setting) black comedy comic series. The main characters are a pair of sheriffs who work together more often than not, one Black and the other White. I want one to be fiery-tempered and trigger-happy (To the point where, in just about every other cover I’ve sketched so far, he has his gun out and is asking the other guy, “Can I shoot it?”), and the other an over-cautious scaredy-cat… And neither of these personalities seem to be a very PC one to give to a Black guy, so which one would be less offensive?

Technically, you can give the character whatever persona you see fit. From there, flesh them out to be more than the traits you mentioned. Show us why they’re the way they are and how they’re more than that. As often stated, it helps to have more characters of the identity if you’re unsure about stereotypes and characterization.

Objectively, a cautious, scared Black man character is less (potentially) stereotypical than one with a temper and trigger-happy. The former recalls Angry Black Person, Scary Black Man and Violent Men of Color tropes. One might argue the scaredy-cat Black man has notes of emasculation, but personally this kind of personality is way less encountered. Exploring a softer, cautious Black man character would be interesting to me (speaking as a Black woman. I’d love to hear from more Black men and people!).

Do not write from a place of fear

I do want to address your comments on being Politically Correct and less offensive. I’m not a fan of those words when it comes to representation. Maybe it’s the snide connotations of the word, often accompanied by a derisive attitude. Maybe it’s just me! But I just don’t love proper and preferred representation being equated to it.

I would like to take the more positive approach.

For one, being respectful and including proper representation vs deliberate or even thoughtless exclusion, should be the focus. Not which choice will step on fewer toes. Writing from a place of fear and extreme caution is stifling. It snuffs out your creativity and will have you questioning your every move. I get that it's natural to feel that way when exploring new territory, but we must learn to be courageous as writers and write against the fear. Your work will turn out much more fluent and natural when you do.

On the other hand, it’s definitely important to build enough knowledge and do the research so you'll have this confidence on hand while you write. This will help create a story with characters that are less like carefully curated caricatures meant to cause the least amount of offensive as possible.

While you should absolutely:

Be aware of stereotypes and what could be offensive as you build your characters and story.

Question your choices and trace the logic of why you made them.

You should also:

Focus on writing varied, complex people.

Let your knowledge guide and inspire you, do continuous research, but not let it fully stop all momentum.

Use the editing, sensitivity read process, and revisions to correct and adjust your work.

~Mod Colette

#Black #western #Black men #creator responsibility #Black tropes #Black stereotypes

561 notes · View notes

literaryvein-reblogs · 14 days ago

Text

Writing Guide: Hero's Journey

using the 3-act structure

ACT I

ORDINARY WORLD

Your hero and their everyday life are established.

Sample Synopsis: Bilbo Baggins, a very well-to-do hobbit of Bag End, sits outside his front porch. He smokes a wooden pipe, as usual.

Your Synopsis:

CALL TO ADVENTURE

An event or problem forces your character out of their comfort zone.

Sample Synopsis: Gandalf arrives and tells him that he's looking for someone to share in an adventure that he's arranging.

Your Synopsis:

REFUSAL TO THE CALL

The hero shows reluctance to leave their everyday life behind.

Sample Synopsis: Bilbo turns down the overture but makes the mistake of inviting Gandalf for tea the next day — unwittingly putting himself on the path of the journey.

Your Synopsis:

MEETING THE MENTOR

Your protagonist meets a mentor who can help them face the challenges ahead.

Sample Synopsis: Gandalf comes to tea with a gang of dwarves. They sing an ancient song of the treasure in the Lonely Mountain, making Bilbo dream of adventure.

Your Synopsis:

— 33% through your story —

ACT II

CROSSING THE FIRST THRESHOLD

The hero fully commits to their journey into the Special World. There's no turning back.

Sample Synopsis: Bilbo packs his bags and leaves Hobbiton behind, crossing the threshold into the Special World.

Your Synopsis:

TEST, ALLIES, ENEMIES

As the protagonist enters the unfamiliar world, they encounter obstacles and enemies. New allies appear to help.

Sample Synopsis: Bilbo faces trolls, bloodthirsty spiders, unfriendly Wood Elves, and a Gollum — but he befriends elves from Rivendell and the bear-man, Beorn.

Your Synopsis:

APPROACH TO THE INMOST CAVE

The hero approaches the place where they'll encounter their biggest foe (but they don't enter it yet).

Sample Synopsis: The dwarves and Bilbo get closer to the Inmost Cave: the Lonely Mountain in which Torin's treasure lies.

Your Synopsis:

ORDEAL

Your character confronts their greatest fear and the biggest threat. This is where they become a true hero.

Sample Synopsis: Up goes Bilbo to face Smaug, the dragon who jealously guards the gold within the Lonely Mountain.

Your Synopsis:

REWARD (Seizing the Sword)

Your hero sees the light at the end of the tunnel, finding the tool (or belief) they need to finish their journey.

Sample Synopsis: Smaug dies and the dwarves gain control of the Lonely Mountain once more — plus all its treasure.

Your Synopsis:

— 75% through your story —

ACT III

THE ROAD BACK

The protagonist begins their journey home, although more dangers appear along the way.

Sample Synopsis: Bilbo gets caught up in the conflict between the dwarves and the Lake Men, who demand compensation for their aid in the fight against Smaug. Thorin refuses.

Your Synopsis:

RESURRECTION

Before getting their happy ending, your character faces a final test they must survive.

Sample Synopsis: The Battle of the Five Armies breaks out and Bilbo loses consciousness.

Your Synopsis:

RETURN WITH THE ELIXIR

The hero returns home changed for the better with an "elixir" — an insight or a literal prize.

Sample Synopsis: Bilbo returns home to Hobbiton with his share of the treasure and a lot of wisdom gained.

Your Synopsis:

Note:

Use this outline to define all 9 of your story's major plot points.

You can then use the 'Scene-by-Scene' guide below to plot out your entire story.

As you write, revise, and edit, return to this guide and update the structure to reflect your latest draft.

Scene-by-Scene Guide: Hero's Journey

Scene Number (1, 2...):

Act (I, II, III):

Step (Ordinary World, Call to Adventure...):

Location:

Date/Time:

Characters in Scene:

Synopsis (What action takes place in the scene?):

Changes (How are the characters or situation now different):

Source ⚜ More: Worksheets & Templates ⚜ Story Plot ⚜ The 3-Act Structure Plot ⚜ Character ⚜ Worldbuilding ⚜ Tips & Advice ⚜ A Guide: 3-Act Structure

75 notes · View notes

maeum-your · 4 months ago

Text

pairing: park jongseong x fem!reader

synopsis: life with all its unexpected twists and turns decides it hates you big time. your best friend ends up taking you on a trip to italy to help you escape the cruelties of your existence for at least a couple of days.

when a handsome stranger saves you from some intimate time with the airport floor and you later happen to bump into him again at your hotel, you decide to spend more time together. is it wise to open up your heart to him?

starring: enhypen jay & sunghoon, ningning (aespa), soobin (txt)

genre: one-shot, fluff, angst, slightly humorous (to some) (perhaps)

warnings: no smut but there definitely is talk about the omegaverse (idk how that happened either), harmless making out, quite a bit of cursing, dysfunctional families, my restrained need to talk about my hero academia so mc mentions todoroki quite a bit lmaoo my bad

word count: 14.1k

a/n: happy comeback day 🎉🎉🎉

my first fic in two years woooo! i started writing this two summers ago but never ended up getting past the first draft. it took a lot of editing and revising to get it to where it is now and i hope you enjoy 🫶🏻

the location where this is taking place holds a very special place in my heart 💞

“and above all, watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you because the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places.” - roald dahl

you had your palms pressed against the cool glass, mouth hanging wide open in wonder as you gazed through the window. wings broke through the cotton candy field of clouds, your final destination becoming visible at long last.

stiff limbs from flying for so long were quickly forgotten as you took in the scenery from above. a breathtaking tapestry of vineyards and olive groves stretched across the landscape, the late afternoon sun illuminating the waters of the serpentine river slithering through the city below.

everything just looked so very different from what you were used to. the skyscrapers and gray monotony of your own life disappeared to the far back of your mind.

��i knew you’d love it, but you literally have heart eyes right now. you better close your mouth before you start catching flies.“

the redhead next to you nudged you in the ribs, giggling at the wonderstruck expression on your face. “mission accomplished. just what i was hoping for.“

you rolled your eyes at ningning’s teasing smirk but couldn‘t stop your mouth from stretching into a big smile, eyes gleaming with excitement.

“oh, shut it, you.“

soon, you‘d made your way through security and headed to pick up your luggage. you hadn‘t really brought much—a single suitcase sufficed for the short stay ningning had planned. yet, you already found yourself wishing for more time in this special little corner of the world.

completely exhausted after a full day of flying and five layovers, yet brimming with anticipation, you stood waiting at the baggage carousel. it seemed to take forever, though you didn‘t mind, not much, whistling a jolly tune while tapping your feet, watching bags and suitcases of all sizes, shapes and colors get picked up by people just as varied as their belongings.

as you finally laid eyes on your rosé gold suitcase and moved to retrieve it, a collision sent you staggering. if not for a stranger with superhuman reflexes who had reached out and pulled you back by the waist after someone’s shoulder had slammed into yours with unexpected force, you might have ended up greeting the grimy verona airport floor with your face.

a silver-haired young man at a distance waved apologetically. “my bad!“ he yelled and then, addressing the mysterious stranger who still had his arm wrapped snugly around your waist, “come on, dude. our cab‘s waitin‘.“

your savior was donning a pair of gray joggers and a zip hoodie, the hood drawn up, sunglasses hiding his eyes as he bent his head to look at you. concern lined the features that weren‘t being concealed, lending him a mysterious air amidst the casual attire.

“is your shoulder okay? sorry about my friend; we‘re in a little bit of a rush and he’s a little… well, let’s just call him a high energy individual.“ with a quick bow, he darted off after the silver-haired man, leaving before you could utter a word in response. the kind stranger had gone before you could get a proper look at his face.

lucky for you, ningning had maintained her composure amidst the chaos and had swiftly retrieved both your suitcases from the carousel in the meantime. it was exactly what you expected from the hyper-focused and detail-oriented woman. you wouldn‘t be surprised if she could read an academic paper and understand all its concepts without struggling even in the middle of attending a death metal concert or riding a rollercoaster. she had always been nothing short of amazing.

with her hand on her waist, the redhead sighed as she glanced after the two men responsible for the commotion.

“that was one hell of a main character moment, huh?“

you felt a blush creeping up your cheeks, still feeling the lingering touch of the stranger and the faint scent of his cologne in the air.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

after picking up the keys for the rental car you had pre-booked through the company's website, you set off from verona airport. inside the shark blue volkswagen golf, the windows remained down to combat the stifling, humid air. normally, you would have minded—the hair sticking to your forehead and the beads of sweat forming—but here in verona, one of italy’s most historically and culturally significant cities, it felt liberating. it felt like freedom.

the breeze that flowed through the open windows swept away all the pent-up frustrations and stresses of the past weeks, carrying them far into the distance. in its wake, it left a sense of tranquility that you weren’t sure you had ever experienced.

ningning had a white scarf draped elegantly around her head and neck, its thin fabric fluttering in the wind. She wore stylish louis vuitton sunglasses perched on her nose and sported bright red lips that shimmered in the sunlight. ningning was the embodiment of the phrase "to go in fashion," effortlessly turning heads wherever she went.

you closed your eyes and let the crisp air tickle your skin.

passing through several charming villages, you eventually arrived at lago di garda. mesmerized by the lake of shining waters, you decided to take a leisurely drive around its perimeter.

a few windsurfers skillfully glided across the water, harnessing the wind's power, while most people were beginning to depart as the sun dipped low, casting an orange glow over everything. high-pitched calls echoed as seagulls swooped and scavenged. you couldn't help but burst into laughter as you watched one bold seagull snatch a sandwich right out of a tourist's hand, prompting a comical chase that ended in a flurry of french profanities.

by the time you completed your circuit around the lake, darkness had nearly enveloped the landscape. the sun had slipped behind the mountains, cooling the air. above, the moon shone brightly, casting a silvery glow that danced across the lake's surface.

the way up the winding road of the mountain might not have taken long but it sure wasn‘t relaxing either. your knuckles turned white from gripping the sides of your seat so hard as your best friend navigated the curves and twists of the road in the near dark. the hillside wasn’t secured at all and, if you were being completely honest, you didn‘t necessarily trust your best friend’s driving skills.

her reckless mode of driving stemmed less from any daredevil traits the redhead didn‘t possess and more from an earnest lack of skill. not that the overachiever didn‘t try to make up for it with rigorous practice.

a car came racing down the road at full speed, blinding you with its headlights. you squeezed your eyes shut. so this is how it would end? you were still so young and there was so much you still wanted to do… oh, no—would your mother throw away your psychologically large manga collection? you didn‘t want todoroki living inside a trash can.

through some miraculous maneuvering, ningning steered the car close enough to the edge that the speeding vehicle narrowly missed you. perhaps you needed to give her driving skills more credit after all. with a heavy sigh, you slumped back into your seat. todoroki was safe.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

“soobin, my man. how nice to see you! how's the family?”

checking in at the hotel took a little longer than it might have usually. ningning was happily chatting away with the blue-haired receptionist, whom she‘d known ever since he‘d started working there five years ago. her family had been coming up there for the past ten summers or so, enjoying a few quiet weeks together in the mountains. it was quite strange, actually, that you‘d never come there with them, but then again, your own parents had always liked to keep you where they could see you. you'd spent your high school summers with your nose in a textbook, as they forced you to attend summer school and other extra study sessions because anything less than a perfect grade was unacceptable.

with heavy eyelids and throbbing heads, the two of you headed straight to bed without having dinner at the hotel restaurant. you had bought a sandwich each at the airport to snack on during the ride, so you weren‘t really all that hungry. besides, there were still a couple of days ahead of you to enjoy all the delicious mediterranean specialties italy had to offer.

the mattress of the king-size bed was soft and bouncy as you flopped down on it. you sprawled out your tired limbs, feeling as if you were lying on top of a cloud.

ningning had immediately refused the idea of getting separate rooms or even separate beds. she had always been the clingy one, hanging onto your arm or cuddling up to you while watching tv. you didn’t mind; you enjoyed the feeling of someone actually wanting to be in your presence.

being apart even for just the night would probably not have been the smartest idea anyway. attached at the hip since the ripe age of five, ningning knew you as well as the back of her hand. if left alone for even a moment too long, she feared you might fall apart. and girls who fly together, cry together! or at least that’s what she‘d said. no solitary weeping for you.

sharing beds had been as much a regular occurrence throughout your friendship as drunkenly reading juicy omegaverse stories out loud at 3 a.m.

from the time she befriended you on your first day of kindergarten, when she'd scared off a boy who‘d been chasing after you with a worm, until now, you‘d been having weekly sleepovers.

as teens, there had occasionally been the unscheduled visit too, whenever having to deal with your controlling parents had gotten too difficult.

it just so happened that skillfully climbing out of your window and sneaking over to cuddle close under her soft duvets was the only way to calm the anguish tearing you apart like a feral beast. ningning would let you cry in her arms while you told her, in between broken sobs, all about what you had apparently done this time to garner your parents‘ disapproval. the arguments usually revolved around you not wearing the right clothes, not reading the right books, not getting the right grades, not having the right friends—you get the gist. nothing you ever did was right.

even so, within the next hour, you’d usually end up giggling uncontrollably as ningning made you watch an episode of how i met your mother or funny cat videos she‘d saved just for occasions like that. she was like a witch who could spirit away your worries with a wave of her hand.

what had happened this time, however, could not be solved by some simple quality time and extensive skinship. it had forced you to escape together, to run off to another country, even if just temporarily, taking a holiday in the comune of tenno situated near the foothills of the italian alps.

it was as if the majestic peaks of the surrounding mountains had put their protective arms around you, and the soothing breeze, carrying the earthy scent of nearby forests, lulled you to sleep. for once, you slept soundly, with no nightmares coming to plague you at night, nothing to disturb your peaceful slumber.

soft rays of sunlight danced along your skin, gently rousing you from sleep the next morning. as consciousness returned, you fluttered your eyes open.

beside you, the redhead stirred, grumbling something unintelligible before burying her face in the gigantic pillow. she was sprawled out across her mattress, clinging to the covers more than they clung to her. her tousled hair, evidence of a night filled with tossing and turning, revealed her to be an unexpectedly messy sleeper.

you patted her head with a fond smile before slipping away to take a shower. the cold water jolted you awake, breathing new life into your senses. today promised to be a good day—you could feel it in your bones.

squeaky clean and feeling refreshed, you opened the bathroom door, expecting to breathe in the calm morning air drifting through the open window. instead, you were greeted with a horrendous stench that made your eyes water.

ningning was holding up a spray bottle and waved it frantically, filling the room with a cloud of mosquito repellant that made you cough violently. you buried your nose in your shirt, shooting daggers at her with your eyes. your friend pointed to the dozen bites covering her legs and arms with a grimace. holy cow.

how had you not noticed them earlier? but then again, you‘d felt a little groggy and disoriented right after waking up, vision still blurry and that lightbulb up there not fully functioning yet.

throats all irritated and scratchy, you both struggled to catch your breaths between bouts of coughing. it was clear ningning had used way too much.

you gestured urgently toward the door, but ningning was preoccupied battling a tiny mosquito buzzing around her head. insects always turned your usually rational friend into a bit of a hysterical mess.

without hesitation, you grabbed her arm and dragged her out of the room.

before you could breathe in the fresh, fume-free air, however, your body collided with something hard. the girl who had been just inches behind you crashed into you, knocking you over.

“oh, for fuck’s sake,” you muttered, frustration bubbling up. why did your intuition about the trajectory of today have to be so far off?

your fall was cushioned by something soft and very much alive. holding your spinning head, you tried to push ningning off your back while simultaneously struggling to get up from whoever you had just taken down with you.

the frantic apology you were preparing got stuck in your throat as you looked down at the gorgeous adonis underneath you.

silky black strands of hair framed his sunkissed face, and his eyes were sharp and narrow. in theory, their design should‘ve made him look angry and serious, especially after being tackled to the ground so forcefully.

instead, he stared at you in wide-eyed surprise. “wait, aren‘t you the girl from the airport? i remember you. yeah, you were wearing a blue babydoll top, weren‘t you? you almost got knocked over.“

your eyes fell to the heart-shaped birthmark on his neck. realization dawned on you. you remembered catching a glimpse of that peculiar spot on his neck under the gray hood he‘d been wearing just a day prior.

“you‘re the one who saved me from falling.“

“i guess you came to take revenge on us.“ much to your surprise, he appeared completely indifferent to finding himself intimately acquainted with the floor. his laugh was rich and infectious, his eyes twinkling merrily. god, he was cute.

he promptly got up off the floor and extended a chivalrous hand to you, helping you up in one swift motion, the muscles in his arms flexing deliciously.

the strong grip on your hand and the gentle pull willed your face to stop mere inches away from his. you could feel his warmth radiating and caught a faint scent of his cologne. your eyes locked for a moment, and it was hard to keep a neutral facade—to act like this hadn’t just completely derailed your train of thought.

his surprise at the sudden proximity faded into something softer, the twinkling of his eyes reminiscent of the glimmering water of lago di garda underneath the evening sun.

this man had you writing poetry about him, and you didn‘t even know his name.

a cough interrupted the moment, drawing your attention. "i hate to interrupt, but technically, i’m on the floor because of you. so, can someone lend a hand before you two carry on with the romancing?“

heat seared across your face. you hurried to assist ningning, who had just borne witness to you drooling over some handsome stranger after you'd pushed her so callously to the ground. this man was undeniably good-looking, though, so you hoped she’d understand.

forget bros before hoes. as far as ningning was concerned, the more hoes for y/n, the better. you really were that bitchless. it wasn’t like you hadn‘t had your fair share of what you affectionately referred to as your gentleman callers, but unfortunately the only men you were attracted to were either fictional and/or two dimensional (literally). so you ogling at a living, breathing specimen of the opposite sex truly called for celebration.

another hand beat you to helping ningning up, belonging to a man slightly taller than the stranger you’d collided with. he possessed slender limbs, an elegant face with a mole beneath his right eye, and a rosy blush tinting his cheeks against silver hair.

he pointed to himself with a cheeky grin. “and i‘m the culprit of the hit and run. glad my man jay here,“ he draped an arm around the other man, “took such good care of you.“

although his words were aimed at you, his gaze remained fixed on ningning as if she were a rare gem on display. the object of his attention couldn’t help but laugh incredulously at the absurdity of the situation.

his friend, jay, freed himself from his grasp. “that’s not really something to brag about,“ he chided his friend with an exasperated sigh. “well, this is sunghoon, my idiotic best friend but i swear he‘s alright?“ the last bit came out more like a question.

was he really alright, like mentally, jay wondered as he watched his friend unabashedly checking out ningning from head to toe, the grin on his face growing impossibly wider, giving off an air of mischief jay had grown accustomed to over the years.

“and who might you be?“ sunghoon incquired in a sultry tone, eyes lingering a tad too long on the pink pajama shorts your best friend was still wearing.

“if i tell you, will you promise to finally stop doing that,“ she gestured to his face with a frown, “weird eyebrow thing you have going on?“

sunghoon, who had indeed been wiggling his eyebrows while squinting and puckering his lips, attempted to defend himself. "i was aiming for 'man of your dreams' but i'll take the feedback," he grumbled, straightening up and relaxing his features. when he wasn‘t contorting his face, he didn‘t look half bad—he was almost as handsome as his companion, though you were clearly biased in that regard.

ningning breathed a sigh of relief, as if finally cured of a long period of intense suffering. “much, much better. and, as promised, i‘m ningning. and,“ shifting the attention to you as she nodded in your direction affectionately, “this is y/n.“

“sorry, for earlier,“ sunghoon apologized impishly, rubbing the back of his neck after receiving a warning glare from ningning.

“no harm done.“

“a lovely name for a lovely lady,“ jay remarked with a charming smile. if he was indeed flirting, you were relieved that his approach was far more refined compared to his friend’s antics. a true gentleman caller indeed.

wait—he was flirting with you? the tingling sensation that swept through your body embarrassed you enough to avert your eyes at record speed. who would’ve thought that not only would you one day find a man you actually found sorta attractive, but that he’d also be trying to woo you with his irresistible charms?

lovely, lovely ningning, the incarnation of cupid herself, someone who knew you inside out, backwards and forwards, immediately picked up on the vibes. a cunning smile tugged at her lips.

“so,“ she clapped her hands together, “would you guys,“ stare lingering on jay specifically, “like to join us for breakfast? we,“ glancing at you, “would be glad for some company.“

you weren‘t quite sure whether to strangle ningning or kiss her. if she wanted to play matchmaker, right now wasn‘t really an appropriate time. a summer fling, or, god forbid, a summer romance wasn't really what you were looking for. you thought about the reason that had necessitated your escape in the first place and shuddered. 2d men would be a much safer option.

the redhead, noticing this, gave you an encouraging smile as she touched your arm. it‘s going to be alright, she seemed to say. the tension in your body relaxed slightly.

sunghoon, completely oblivious to the very obvious scheme ningning was planning, swung his arm around jay‘s shoulder, squeezing him way too tight. he stared him down with huge, unsettling orbs and an over-the-top smile. “we would love to. right, jay?“

not a single person in this hallway was being very subtle about their intentions. it all felt a little too bizarre to be real.

jay regarded you with an unreadable expression. his gaze lingered, unwavering and deep, as if trying to read you.

finally, his face relaxed into a pleasant smile. “right, sunghoon.“

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

“i like women with opinions. so hot.“

ningning glanced at you discreetly, her face a silent cry for help.

sunghoon had his head resting on his arms, looking dreamily at the redhead sitting in front of him. it wasn‘t that your best friend wasn‘t accustomed to attention from both boys and girls, but no one had ever been so weird about it. his excessive fluttering eyelashes and exaggerated sighs made it difficult to take him seriously, as if he were a man who'd just experienced the most mind-blowing orgasm of his life and was now asking for another round.

even jay seemed lost for words, shooting sunghoon some serious side-eyes, unable to flatten his facial expression into anything other than a mix of mortified amusement and concern for his friend‘s mental state.

“has anyone told you that you‘re a bit peculiar?“ ningning asked, taking a sip from her orange juice, her eyes narrowed as she scrutinized sunghoon.

“oh yeah, all the time, but it sounds so much sexier when you say it,“ sunghoon replied with a playful grin.

“okay, time to switch the subject.“ jay needed to cut off sunghoon before he‘d start spouting even more unhinged nonsense. “we‘ve established ningning is a pre-law student who can kick ass. so, y/n, how do you go about insulting stupid people?“

“oh, i might not say it to your face but i will use you for inspiration as a villain in one of my stories and make you suffer. like, a lot.“ you shrugged nonchalantly, as if that was a completely normal thing to say.

“creative, i like that,“ jay chuckled. “so i take it you‘re a writer then?“

wildly embarrassed all of a sudden, you played with the fresh strawberries on your plate. “not exactly. i‘m an english major and, well, i do enjoy writing in my spare time. but it‘s nothing to write home about, really.“

in truth, you had a few short stories published online and plenty of my hero academia fanfics on ao3, but revealing that would literally shatter your dignity into a million tiny, irreparable pieces.

“what about you?“ you quickly asked jay, shifting the spotlight away from yourself. you were accustomed to avoiding attention, fearing that someone (usually your parents) might uncover and critique your flaws. “let me guess. you’re obviously very knowledgeable when it comes to fashion, so… fashion design, perhaps!“

jay was impeccably dressed and styled. at the airport, he had sported a more relaxed and comfortable look, but today he was wearing a dark blue polo shirt, white shorts, and wristwatch that caught the sunlight. the golden earrings added a touch of chic to his ensemble.

what had really given you the notion in the first place, however, was the fact that he started meticulously analyzing the outfit of every single person in the room the moment you entered, providing a long-winded commentary about the latest fashion trends from all across the globe. you could only hope that the white shirt dress you had on was jay-approved.

“sooo close,“ he chuckled ironically. “it‘s actually business administration and management.“

this revelation made you tilt your head curiously. jay did exude a hint of businesslike demeanor at first glance, but his personality was far from aloof. you had expected something different, something more tailored to his personality, that‘s all.

it was nice to get to know what the two strangers at the table were like, and you listened fondly to the stories ningning was telling, even though you‘d already heard them hundreds of times. you starred in most of them anyway.

the only issue was that jay seemed very interested in you. why would this be an issue, a sane person might ask. a hot, fashionable man with good manners showing interest in you. boo hoo. go jump off a cliff.

you internally scolded yourself for being so tense, but it wasn‘t easy to just let go and relax. just how much of yourself could you give away without going from a hot mess to just straight-up professional problem collector? if only you had the superpower to come up with half-truths on the spot that could make you sound way cooler than you were, but you weren‘t ningning. you were creative, yes, as illustrated by your artistic pursuits, but that creativity needed to simmer and only came loose when it wanted to. you couldn‘t summon it in an instant. you probably came across like a proper snooze-fest with the way all of your answers were as specific as a fortune cookie.

if jay was deterred by this, it didn‘t show. he was like a gold digger searching for the treasure. in this case, something you could talk about without restraint. he sensed an active inner world and was convinced he just needed to show enough genuine interest to coax it out of you. if only he knew the right things to say—

“don‘t ignore me.“ sunghoon crossed his arms in front of his chest, pouting like a kicked puppy. “if i don‘t get attention, i‘ll die.“

“much better,“ he said solemnly, when everyone turned to him, swiftly ignoring the raised eyebrows.

“ningning. i need one of your sexy opinions. hotdogs? are they a sandwich?“

the redhead blinked blankly, momentarily forgetting to chew on her food. “excuse me, what?“

“is a hotdog a sandwich,“ he repeated as if it were the most normal question in the world.

“no? yes. no! what?“ you‘d never seen your best friend so lost for words. she opened and closed her mouth, spluttering in confusion.

“shouldn‘t it be though? there‘s bread on two opposite sides.“

“but a hotdog is just a hotdog, and a sandwich is just a sandwich,“ she contemplated, treating the question with more seriousness than the situation required.

“look,“ she said, pointing the fork at him, “one has two separate pieces of bread, and the other is a sliced bun.“

“yeah, they don‘t have the same shape either,“ you chimed in. “and a hot dog has the bread on the sides, but a sandwich has it on the top and bottom.“

“would you then agree that a hot dog is a taco?“

say what now?

he shrugged. “they‘re the same shape, so according to your logic, a hotdog would be a taco.“

ningning thought about this. “i guess it would be more of a taco than a sandwich.“

“that wasn‘t the point i was trying to make.“ sunghoon muttered displeased.

“actually,“ jay had pulled out his phone, “according to merriam-webster, a sandwich is defined as having two or more slices of bread or a split roll with a filling in between. this would mean that a hotdog is, in fact, a sandwich. however—“

“ha, i told you so. guess i know more than you after all, mon chéri,“ sunghoon taunted ningning, relishing in riling her up. did he know whom he was messing with? arguing with the redhead was as safe as juggling chainsaws.

ningning folded her arms. “that‘s literally complete bullshit. have they literally never seen a sandwich before?“

“if you would let me finish,“ jay raised his voice, lips pressed into a tight line, unamused by their bickering, “the washington post argues that classification can be done by applying the cube rule, which categorizes food by the placement of starch. and hot dogs are defined by starch on the bottom and on two opposing sides.“

“so basically, what you‘re trying to say is—actually, i have no idea what you just said. i guess we just have to agree to disagree, sweetheart.“ sunghoon winked at ningning. she looked like she was about to jump at him and stab him with her fork.

ningning didn‘t lose. that was a fact. as a middle schooler, she‘d had a reputation for obliterating even the most raunchy, sexist, homophobic, xenophobic, everything-phobic boys into submission. then, during high school, she‘d been known as the undefeated wrecking ball at every debate tournament, serving up verbal beatdowns like they were free samples at costco.

winning pointless discussions was what she did best.

the back-and-forth continued, phones were pulled out, receipts shown.

“yeah, i don‘t think i‘m as invested in this as they are.“ you said to jay, accompanied by a wry sigh.

“me neither.“

he was secretly glad it gave him the chance to return to the earlier conversation. what should he focus on? what moved you? you‘d been so humble about your writing; he was sure there must be more.

“you said you liked to write? any plans on becoming a published author then?“

a bitter laugh escaped you before you could stop it. you scrambled to cover it up by putting on a totally-not-forced smile. definitely not the best choice of topic.

you were the only daughter of an affluent family and expected successor to a big hotel chain. your parents had nearly combusted when you‘d chosen to study english at a smallish public university instead of sticking to the meticulously mapped-out 200-step life plan for you.

step one: no room for defiance.

step two: exceed perfection.

the arts were only ever desirable when they were being consumed, not pursued. they didn‘t understand that someone had to create that art in the first place for others to appreciate it.

writing fiction was akin to attending a formal dinner party butt-nacked, as far as your parents were concerned anyway. they judged your devotion to made-up stories as disgraceful.

despite all of your attempts to escape your so-called destiny, your parents never gave up trying to mold you into someone you weren‘t—an impossible version of yourself they expected you to eventually accept. your true personality was dismissed as “just a phase.“

desperately clinging onto your dreams, you knew that what had transpired right before your escape had the power to alter the trajectory of your entire life.

the room was quieter than a mime convention as you contemplated your life choices, wondering why there couldn’t have been an instruction manual for when shit like this happens.

jay furrowed his eyebrows. “parental issues, i assume?“

good thing your jaw was securely attached to your skull because— “how on earth? are you some kind of psychic or what?”

he gave an unperturbed shrug. “isn‘t it always parental issues, though?“

“true.“ you sipped on your water, eyeing him suspiciously. you couldn‘t believe you were that easy to read, more transparent than a freshly cleaned windowpane. mastering the art of hiding your true thoughts and feelings was the one superpower you had to learn in order to avoid nuclear-level arguments with your parents.

jay regarded you with an unreadable expression before his lips curled into a gentle smile, making you almost forget that you were supposed to be in full-on panic mode.

“so i guess you‘re here to forget all about that? tenno really is a beautiful place. it‘s so easy to put aside all of your worries once you‘re up here.“

“i think so too,“ you nodded enthusiastically, relieved that he wasn‘t going to press on about the whole parental issues thing. “it was all ningning‘s idea to come. she said she knew just the right spot, so here we are. i gather you‘ve been here before?“

“hundreds of times,“ he said. you noticed he had a tendency to trail off into laughter the end of his sentences.

“actually, i’ve been wondering—have you made any plans yet? sunghoon and i were going to walk to the art colony not far from here. not only is the route is lovely, but i think it might speak to your artistic side. what do you say?“

hell yes, you thought, but then remembered it was probably embarrassing to be so excited about spending time with someone you literally didn‘t even know.

“ningning?“ you tapped your friend on the elbow, prompting her to abrubtly cease arguing with sunghoon, leaving the silver-haired man to sulk.

“do you want to go with them today? they‘re visiting an art colony. we haven‘t planned anything, right?“

you tried to keep the pleading puppy eyes in check, hoping she hadn‘t secretly arranged any plans yet. looking at art? sounds perfect. looking at art with a hot guy? fucking amazing.

“as long as he admits that i am right,“ ningning rolled her eyes at sunghoon who regarded her with a scoff.

“you wish, mon chér—ouch.“

you had enough tact to pretend not to have noticed jay kicking sunghoon under the table.

“fine. you win this round, sweetheart.“

ningning stuck out her tongue at him and did a little victory dance. seemed like you weren‘t the only one in a good mood.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

the art colony was a medieval village named canale di tenno. as you strolled through its cobblestone streets, you immediately noticed the unusually tall stone houses, some four or even five stories high, every wall slanted and crooked. you admired their rustic facades and flower-adorned balconies.

you moved under archways and through narrow alleys, all leading to the piazzetta, the village square, where a few cozy restaurants were located. especially for someone from a big city, this small and rural village with its forty residents and handful of art galleries and shops felt like a 180 degree switch to the skyscrapers and anonymous crowds of seoul. vibrant artwork was displayed on most of the windowsills and you were welcomed with genuine enthusiasm everywhere you entered.

jay grew more and more attractive with each passing minute, acting as a tour guide and sharing his extensive knowledge about the village and its people with you.

he was now leading you through the historic house museum, known as the casa degli artisti, dedicated to the renowned italian artist giacomo vittone. the museum not only paid homage to his contribution to the arts, but the collection also featured works by other artists who‘d been inspired by the region.

the owner greeted jay like an old friend, patting him on his back as he gave him a hug followed by a kiss on each cheek. jay conversed in fluent italian, gushing over the new pieces of art that had been added since his last visit. your handsome stranger seemed to know a lot about many of the individual artworks and personally guided you through the exhibitions.

meanwhile, ningning and sunghoon seemed to be in their own little bubble, bickering for the majority of the time, but you could tell it was all in good fun. if you weren’t mistaken, and you rarely were when it came to your best friend, ningning had taken a liking to the silver-haired man. she did like being challenged, though not as much as she liked to win, and she was definitely more than capable of dealing with all the teasing and pestering he made use of to secure her attention.

you weren’t really focused on the pair, if you were being honest. you’d always been a fan of the arts, fascinated by the way literature and art intersected in many places.

you eagerly bombarded jay with question after question about the pieces, any traces of shyness had vanished, replaced by a thirst for knowledge. he smiled to himself and did his best to answer, happily delving into discussions about the color palettes and artistic forms with you, delighted to see you coming out of your shell.

after having gone through each piece in extensive length, you went into a tiny store selling art goods.

the moment you stepped in, your eyes darted from one corner to the other, heart swelling with joy, unsure where to look first. if you could have, you would have bought everything they were selling. each and every piece had been crafted by hand, none of that factory-produced stuff. all the goods were unique to the village, to that store. how you wished you could’ve properly supported the local community and all its artists.

fleeing home in a hurry meant you hadn‘t been able to exchange your korean wons to euros, and most places here didn’t have card readers.

besides, you were sick and tired of being reliant on mommy‘s and daddy‘s money. all you‘d ever wanted was to support yourself by writing novels. being dependent on your parents was one thing, but the thought of being dependent on… well, him. you shook your head to rid yourself of that painful feeling. real life could wait.

everyone ventured off on their own, taking their time to absorb the treasures inside the room for as long or as little as they liked.

at a table just behind the corner stood an army of little frog figurines made of clay, painted a muddy green. the whimsical creatures with their silly little faces warmed your heart. it was a bit strange; they were only frogs after all, yet you couldn’t help but feel an immediate attachment to them.

“they‘re beautiful, aren‘t they?“ jay appeared soundlessly by your side.

you nodded. he gently lifted one to his eyes and inspected it closely, focusing on a peculiar spot under its eye. “this one kinda looks a bit like sunghoon.“

“oh, i see it.“

you picked up another one. “and this one‘s you.“ the paint had chipped off a little at the neck in exactly the shape of a heart.

jay pointed to another one and said it looked like you.

you tilted your head to the side, staring at the frog with a puzzled expression. “how come?“

“it‘s cute.“

heat rushed to your cheeks. he looked straight at you, face completely serious.

you quickly averted your eyes. the intensity in which he studied you was too much. it made you feel a little self-conscious.

ignoring your erratic heartbeat, you continued going through the frogs, the perfect excuse not to look back up at jay. rather coincidentally, since you weren‘t really focusing on the task at hand, you found the remaining missing member of your little frog community. a tiny amphibian with lovely wide eyes bore a striking resemblance to your best friend. give her a wig and voilá—amphibian ningning.

not only did jay end up buying the four frogs, but he also insisted on getting lunch for all of you. ningning and you tried to protest, but sunghoon, already used to his friend‘s generous spending sprees, ordered an obscene amount of food as if it were the last time he would eat ever. ningning and you still felt bad about leeching off jay when both of your families were rolling in dough, but there was no point arguing with the man.

by the time everyone had finished, you felt like you were about to burst any minute. despite having to soothe your aching tummies, it was worth it. the polenta e funghi you‘d had… fucking hell.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

the way back to the hotel felt much more tedious than when you‘d walked to canale di tenno. the blisters on your feet screamed for mercy, unwilling to continue trotting under the glistening sun. your full bellies dragged you down, inviting you to lie down on the grass and close your eyes for a moment.

“how come you knew the owner of the museum so well?“ you inquired, curious to learn more about jay. you walked side by side, with ningning and sunghoon a little ahead.

“oh, i thought i mentioned it. he’s actually a distant relative of mine. i‘m not quite sure. i think he is my great aunt‘s husband‘s sister‘s husband or something like that? yeah, sounds about right.“ he rubbed the back of his neck. “he and his wife rejected the luxury of our family name and she moved here to live with him, where they'd first met and fallen in love. we haven‘t been here since they got married; i'm barely even allowed to mention him to my parents. we‘re not known for being very tolerant.“

he clenched his teeth. he hated how his family had acted. was acting. he liked his great-great-uncle, admired him even.

“i wish i had the courage to be more like him, to bravely go against expectation.“

you nodded thoughtfully. “sometimes our hearts don‘t want what others have picked out for us.“

he gave you a meaningful look, but you couldn‘t decipher it.

you were walking uphill now, labored breaths escaping you with every step. ningning and sunghoon appeared to be immersed in some conversation that required a lot of gestures, judging by their constant arm movements, but they were too far ahead, fueled by their competitive energy, for you to hear.

you watched their backs as you listened to the birdsong accompanying your journey. you closed your eyes for just a second, enjoying the lovely melody, but that was all it took. you misstepped.

jay‘s reflexes kicked in just a tick too late, and there you were, crouching on the ground, face contorted in pain, clutching your ankle. you tried to stand, but the sharp pain that shot up your foot forced you back down with a yelp. the pair ahead of you quickly rushed back to you upon hearing your agonized howl.

“let me take a look,” jay said gently.

reluctantly, you allowed him to examine your ankle, wincing as the prodded it with a gentle touch. “it hurts like a bitch.”

“it‘s swollen; i think you sprained it. you shouldn‘t walk on it, or it‘ll get worse.“

“oh, my sweet little darling! i’ll get you back safely, don’t worry. hop on.“ ningning stood with a slight forward lean, ready to receive the weight.

sunghoon affectionately tapped her head and chuckled. "it’s nice that you’re so concerned, but don’t you think it would be much easier if either jay or i carried her? not to brag or anything, but i'm pretty strong."

sunghoon‘s enthusiasm faded into mortification as he caught the warning in jay's eyes.

"or… jay can carry y/n since he is much, much stronger than i am. yes, big biceps and all that good stuff. loads of muscle. umm, if you know, you know.“

you probably had no choice but to continue the journey on jay’s back. putting pressure on your foot hurt so bad and bruises already started to form a purplish-red hue.

before you could even think about protesting, he effortlessly scooped you up and adjusted you onto his back. hands secured around his neck and shoulders, you could feel his strong muscles at work as he resumed walking.

despite the situation, you couldn‘t help but feel a little flustered being so close to him. ningning winking at you from the side probably didn‘t help much either.

jay didn't complain even once about the extra weight. on the contrary, he continued talking so effortlessly, as if he weren’t carrying an entire person on his back.

“you know, this reminds me of a hike i did in the rockies last year,“ he began, voice calm and steady. “except it was sunghoon who twisted his ankle, and i had to carry him.“

you laughed softly. “it‘s insane that you‘re not even breaking a sweat, especially, in this heat,“ you said, shaking your head in disbelief.

you felt him shrug. “years of hiking and a bit of gym time,“ he replied nonchalantly. “plus, i think carrying a beautiful girl might be giving me an extra burst of energy.“

it sure was a good thing that he couldn't see your face at that moment. your cheeks burned hot as he continued making light conversation.

jay‘s relaxed demeanor helped you forget the throbbing pain in your ankle for the most part, allowing you to genuinely enjoy the rest of the walk. with no need to focus on where you were stepping anymore, you could fully take in the view, catching glimpses of a lake glimmering through the trees.

when you reached the hotel, you experienced a confusing mix of relief and disappointment as jay gently set you down. “there you go, safe and sound.“

jay went to find some ice for your ankle, and ningning retrieved painkillers from her suitcase.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

for dinner, you indulged in strangolapreti—spinach and ricotta dumplings served with a sage and butter sauce—and some pollo alla cacciatora, hunter‘s chicken cooked in a tomato and herb sauce. jay used his perfect italian to inquire about the restaurant’s finest wines, settling on a bottle of teroldego rotaliano, made from grapes native to the trentino region. because of your stupid ankle and reliance on painkillers, however, you didn't have more than just a sip or two.

after a second bottle, some gelato and more ibuprofen for your ankle, the group decided to spend the rest of the evening playing card games, which led to some rather… let‘s say interesting bets.

"i’ll let you bleach my eyebrows and dye them pink if i lose."

"if i win, i‘m going to draw dicks on your faces."

“you have to do a hundred push-ups wearing a maid costume.“

none of the bets— or so you thought— ended up being actualized since you were far too gone far too soon. the moment your head hit the pillow, you drifted off to dreamland, the sharpie shlong on your chin moving with every soft snore.

stupid, fucking ankle. why won’t you work the way you’re supposed to?!

you felt bad beyond measure. the last thing you wanted was to spoil your friends’ fun just because your ankle decided to act like a major bitch right now.

during lunch the day before, ningning had suggested a drive down to lago di garda to explore the towns there, and you wished they would just go do exactly that today.

ignoring your pleading looks, they insisted on staying at the hotel with you but what kind of shitty friend would you be if you were to allow that.

“please just go and don‘t worry about me. i‘ll be fine here on my own. there’s plenty to enjoy—good food and maybe i’ll go chill by the pool or whatever.“

ningning, whose cheeks were stuffed with strawberries, making her look like a cute little chipmunk, shook her head vehemently. “how could we just leave you here? girl, i didn’t drag you all across the globe just to abandon you. nope, i‘m staying.” she motioned vaguely toward the guys. “these two can go, but i’m not leaving you, especially not when you‘re in such a vulnerable position right now. i really don't—“

you shot her a sharp look, halting her mid-sentence. you didn’t want to be rude, but your current predicament really was none of their business.

“yo, we‘re not heartless (well, not completely)… if you‘re stayin’, we‘re stayin‘.“ what sunghoon meant by that was that he was going to follow wherever ningning would go. probably.

you nervously looked between the three of them. “but ningning, i know you‘ve been wanting to visit sirmione. you‘ve been talking about finding that restaurant your grandma used to take you to as a kid, right?“

ningning pouted. it was true. in recent years, her grandma’s illness had prevented her from making the trip with the rest of the family and her passing still weighed heavily on ningning, who had cherished her dearly. the old lady had been your best friend‘s favorite person in the whole world. next to you, goes without saying.

“and sunghoon,“ you turned to him, “you were so excited when we made these plans yesterday. it’s your first time here so you haven‘t had the chance to explore the region either.“

jay hummed thoughtfully. “what about this: ningning and sunghoon take the drive down to the lake. i’ll stay with you. i‘ve been here countless times and have seen everything there is to see.“

now, see, you wanted to protest, you really did, but he did have a valid point. you were less concerned about him missing out than you were with sunghoon and ningning, and let's face it, the selfish desire to have him all to yourself was enough to make you waver. not only was he the most handsome man you‘d ever laid eyes on, including your 2d crushes—okay, maybe not as good-looking as todoroki—, but there was also something else simmering beneath the surface that you just couldn‘t wrap your mind around. you wanted to know what it was.

ningning caught your eye and smirked knowingly. yes, this was perfect. now she could leave you in good conscience. there was no way she‘d let you refuse now.

“have fun, you two,“ she hollered over her shoulder as she practically dragged a bewildered sunghoon away.

“poor ningning. i kinda feel bad for leaving her alone with sunghoon. again.“

you waved off his concern. “you should be worried for sunghoon‘s sake. trust me when i say ningning can handle herself.“

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

“guess you‘re stuck here with me now.”

you were both lying on sun loungers by the pool, enjoying the gentle breeze that swirled around you. you had brought a book with you, anne of green gables to be exact (one of your favorites), expecting jay to swim a couple of laps, but instead, he stayed glued to your side.

“poor me,” he said with a teasing smile, placing his hand on his chest in fake agony. “spending my time with a beautiful girl. life really gives the toughest battles to its strongest soldiers.”

you bit the inside of your cheek to keep you from grinning. “whatever.”

“what about this? we have some lunch and then—do you remember the lake you saw through the trees yesterday?—we can walk down there. it only takes five to ten minutes, so carrying you won‘t be a problem.”

“please don‘t! if you want to go, don't mind me. i‘ll be fine here.”

he wouldn‘t hear of it. “ah, ah, ah, no way! i‘m the one who really wants to show you the lake, so don‘t feel bad. besides, i’m a hundred percent confident you‘ve never seen anything that beautiful.“

“not even lago di garda?”

“not even close.”

he spoke with such confidence and self-assurance you felt it would be an insult to refuse.

the path to lago di tenno was a winding descent, flanked by dense greenery and the distant murmur of water. despite the uneven terrain and the extra weight he was bearing, jay‘s pace was unhurried and smooth.

as you approached the lake, the path leveled out and the view opened up to the sparkling water, an almost surreal shade of turquoise glistening under the midday sun. the lake‘s surface was remarkably still, only disturbed by the occasional ripple from a fish darting below. surrounded by the unbelievably clear water was a small landmass featuring lush greenery, known as isola di tenno.

standing there and taking it all in, you felt peace settle within you. the fir and pine trees of the surrounding forests climbing the steep hillsides lent an earthy aroma to the crisp air.

it was as if time had slowed down, the distant chirping of birds and the gentle rustle of leaves adding to the harmonious symphony of nature.

jay‘s lips curved into a smile at the sight of your awestruck face. “i‘m glad i was right.“

you stayed at the shore and watched him wade into the lake. the cool water rose slowly up his legs, glistening as it clung to his sunkissed skin. you had to force yourself to look away, feeling like some kind of creepy stalker.

you let him enjoy the tranquility of the lake as you sat on the blanket you had brought with you. opening your trusty sketchbook, you scanned the landscape, wondering how you could capture its divine beauty on paper. your hand started moving on its own, inspiration from all around filling your heart and soul.

a sudden voice made you jump. “i didn‘t know you could draw so well. but i guess i shouldn’t be so surprised. you really did seem to be into all the art stuff yesterday.“

jay was bending down next to you, water dripping from his hair onto the blanket, looking at the page. “this is really good.“

“you think so?“ you asked. he hummed as he dried his hair with a towel.

“i‘ve always enjoyed drawing and painting. when i was younger, i used to write short stories about my childhood dog, a bearded collie named conan—yes, i named him after watching detective conan. such a good show, by the way. have you ever watched it? i don‘t know if i‘m allowed to say this as an english major, but it‘s sooo much better than the original sherlock holmes stories. i mean, there are very different, but i guess what i‘m trying to say is that they really don‘t hit the same, you know. they‘re kinda boring, actually. all the media inspired by the original sherlock holmes is so much better. bbc‘s sherlock—“

you only realized you were rambling big time when you ran out of breath. the amused smile on jay‘s face made you wish the ground would swallow you whole.

“anyways, what i was going to say was that as i tried to bring conan alive on the pages, i thought it would be much better if you could see this silly little furball at the same time. so i started incorporating little illustrations of him every now and then.“

“i’ve never read the sherlock holmes books so i can’t really say much about them, but i did use to watch detective conan a lot as a kid (though i used to be kind of scared). conan always looked so cool fighting crime. i think it‘s an awesome name for a dog! do you,“ the eagerness in his voice surprised you, ”do you have anything you can show me?“

your hands were shaking. this felt a little too intimate, if you were being honest. still, he‘d been showing genuine interest—and hadn’t minded your ramblings—and you were in the mood to rave about your adorable dog.

“those are so cute. aww, look at his little scarf.“ he was swiping through your phone‘s gallery (a precarious situation considering the many bakudeku fanarts you had saved in your gallery) giving enthusiastic oohs and aahs when appropriate. there were so many drawings of conan. conan with his dotted red scarf. conan wearing yellow boots. conan chasing his tail. a leaf landing on conan‘s broad snout.

“i really think these are awesome. they seem to capture this little rascal‘s personality very well, and, oh my god, he is just so damn adorable. i wanna squish his fluffy butt cheeks.“

seeing this grown man get so excited about your doodles made you happier than you could‘ve ever imagined. this was exactly the feeling you wanted to evoke with your work. sure, most of your stories were primarily aimed at kids, but you believed that good children‘s books should be just as valuable to an adult, and illustrations played a big underrated role in that.

the fond, childlike look on his face as he studied your drawings started to overwhelm you. you didn‘t know how to react to praise, especially coming from someone who didn‘t know you very well so they had no reason to lie to make you happy.

you had to change the topic or you were legit going to cry. how embarrassing would that be, just straight up bawling because someone liked your drawings.

“what about you?“ you asked to push the attention away from you. “you said you were studying business administration. how‘s that?“

the mood shifted so quickly, it was like someone had flipped a switch. jay didn‘t look up from your phone, now looking at conan in a superhero costume with a serious, almost dejected expression.

giving the phone back, he blinked a couple of times as if trying to blink away unwanted thoughts.

“i mean, there are interesting concepts to learn about.“ he ran a hand through his still damp strands of hair and paused for a moment. “it’s okay, but that’s it, really. but i think you guessed that already.“ he smiled, but it didn‘t quite reach his eyes.

his gaze fixed on something far off into the distance. “there are quite a few jobs i can think of that i‘d rather do. fashion design, professional chef, hip-hop dancer... but unlike you or my great-great-uncle, i‘m not brave. if i‘d really wanted to, i could‘ve defied my parents and chosen a different path. i‘m a coward, y/n.“

you put a hand on his arm. “i don‘t know your circumstances in detail, but i understand that standing up for yourself can be more difficult than it seems. i‘m not sure what gave you the impression that i'm brave because i'm really not. despite everything, i‘m still nothing more than my parents‘ marionette.“

his sigh betrayed an uncharacteristically sorrowful heaviness.

“yet you still decided to pursue writing and drawing even though i can tell that decision must’ve not been an easy one. i know they mean well, my parents. they certainly think their plans will make me happy. i don’t think they understand. i’m not sure if i‘ve tried hard enough to make them… after all, how could they—“ his voice rose as he looked up at you with a furious expression, but he cut himself off, a horrified look on his face. he quickly collected himself again. “you know what? it doesn‘t matter. i don‘t want to think about it.“

you didn‘t press on. while you did want to comfort the inner child hurting so obviously inside him, to hug him and tell him he wasn‘t a coward and that he could be strong too, you felt like it wasn‘t your place to do so. he had set boundaries and you, practically only a stranger, weren‘t going to cross them.

it was interesting to see that your seemingly perfect stranger was not leading such a perfect life after all. you felt a little guilty, but it was reassuring in a way.

the silence that followed wasn‘t particularly uncomfortable though, both of you lost in your own thoughts.

the natural beauty and quietude all around you elicited a dreamy sigh from you.

"oh, why didn‘t i think of bringing a canvas and some paint down here with me? i guess i wasn't expecting to fall in love with this place so much. i just want to capture this moment for eternity, you know?"

"you mean like a picture?" he teased. you playfully glared at him. he held up both his hands. "kidding, just kidding. let me go grab one for you!"

as he began to rise, you placed a hand on his arm to prevent him from standing. his skin was cold under your fingers and the unexpected contact sent shivers down your spine.

"oh no, stay! please, i don't want you to have to walk all the way up there. we can just bring it tomorrow."

jay quirked an eyebrow. it took you a few seconds to understand that you had just insinuated he would have to carry you down here again the next day.

"ah, no, i‘m sorry. i kind of already forgot about my little handicap. you should definitely go do something nice instead.“

"but this is nice,“ he insisted. “something about the water and watching you draw so peacefully makes me feel at ease. life is going to be stressful enough when i have to return home. and simply said, i like sitting here and looking at the view." he winked at you and you suddenly felt a little braver.

"what was that? are you flirting with me, park?" you held your head high as you said this.

"and what if i am?"

your cheeks felt uncomfortably hot. even though you‘d responded to his wooing, you now had your tail between your legs and pretended to immerse yourself in your drawing again, doing your best to ignore the foreign feeling bubbling up inside your chest.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

late that evening, you lay in bed talking to ningning about your day.

she animatedly recounted the story of how they‘d found the restaurant she used to visit with her grandmother so many years ago. the owner had still recognized her, despite so much time having passed, and had prepared the most delicious lunch for them. sunghoon waited patiently—and surprisingly quietly—as the two ladies shared stories about ningning‘s grandmother. he even tried to cheer her up afterward by making a fool of himself in public (“he looked like he was doing a rendition of the ‘there‘s squirrels in my pants’ dance“) when she‘d started crying, suddenly overwhelmed by grief.

“he can be really nice when he wants to be. i think he‘s just a little,“ she drew out the last word, “bonkers, but our energies kind of match, if you know what i mean? he attacks, i strike back. he talks shit, i tell him why he's wrong. it’s like a game. there’s definitely never a boring moment when he’s around, i’ll give him that. oh, stop looking at me like that!“ she dismissed the smirk on your face. “it‘s really not like that. man, i saw him picking his nose, that shit turns you off. and when he came back from the bathroom, his fly was open. nothing romantic‘s going on here, i promise! but i do think we could be friends.“

she clapped her hands together, super excited all of a sudden. “enough about me. how‘s it going with your handsome stranger?“ she wiggled her eyebrows at you.

your handsome stranger. right. because that‘s what he was. no matter that your heart went into overdrive whenever he‘d look at you, and no matter how much he’d made you feel seen and appreciated, you had to remind yourself that you couldn‘t really know someone after only two days. sharing only carefully selected pieces of your stories with each other didn‘t make you close.

"i mean he is really cute," you admitted with a shrug, “but you know i can‘t. i am ‘promised‘ to someone after all.“ there. you finally said it. the issue you‘d been trying so hard to forget.

"so what? it’s not like you’re dating that dude. heck, you don’t even know him yet. i wouldn’t call it cheating if you were to have something going on with jay.“

"i know but it just seems… so pointless. you know i don't do flings but it's not like i can go on dates with him either."

when you‘d come back home, you‘d likely be getting married to someone you didn‘t know and there was not much you could do about it. you wanted to say no, heck you‘d said no plenty of times already, but it was more complicated than that.

“y/n, you can always just refuse.“

“you know it‘s not that easy…“ you clenched your fists. if only you‘d been born into a different family. or maybe if you‘d actually adhered to their life plan, you wouldn‘t be in this mess right now at all.

ningning placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. "i’m sorry, i do know. i promise we’ll find a way for you to take advantage of his fucked-up situation but can‘t you still have a little fun before shit goes down? a kiss or two won't be the end of the world."

bearing that in mind, you came to sit by the lake the next day, trying to steal sneaky glances at jay while you worked on your canvas.

he was wearing a sleeveless shirt that clung to his toned frame, revealing muscular arms and broad shoulders. he had swept his hair back from his forehead, which highlighted his devilishly chiseled jawline and the intensity of his sharp eyes. every sane person would ogle at him, y/n, you told yourself. he was literally the dictionary definition of handsome and sexy, so of course you‘d stare. it was only natural. haha.

the majority of your afternoon was spent transferring your previous day‘s sketch onto the canvas and then painting over the delicate lines. jay kept you entertained, reading to you from his book, and discussing it with you.

while this might not have been a date it definitely felt like one. you read a lot of jane austen, for fuck‘s sake—you realized when something was romantic as hell. painting, reading, yapping, and all that with a hot guy. what a cruel joke. the universe seemed to have its fun taunting you, like dangling a carrot in front of a donkey.

do not be mistaken, you knew this wasn‘t love. something as silly as love at first sight did simply not exist, no matter what many of your favorite fanfics seemed to say. even suggesting you had a crush would be a crude exaggeration. but it was mutual attraction, that you were sure of, and it might have grown into something more, if not for the less-than-ideal circumstances.

what was strange was that after yesterday, jay seemed more restrained. after your little heart-to-heart, if you could even call it that, you‘d started noticing things. if you didn’t look away when his intense gaze fixed on you, you found something else there, lingering in the depths of his dark eyes. hesitancy. sadness. something that felt like… guilt?

you didn‘t know what it was, but this should‘ve been a relief. not that he was potentially struggling with something, of course, but if he‘d been flirting with you without restraint, you might have caved eventually, even though you knew it was wrong.

it was possible you might have just been misreading the signs. you had a more than vivid imagination, after all, which activated mostly in situations where more thinking wasn’t necessarily productive.

he might have just not liked the idea of getting too attached to someone he wasn‘t going to see again. with each stroke of your brush capturing the lake‘s incredible turquoise hue, you pondered whether to give him your phone number or not. the promise of a reunion might soften the unease in jay‘s eyes, you thought, but then again, would you even be able to keep it?

day four of your trip followed a similar pattern to the previous two. ningning and sunghoon ventured off on their own, though still lively “arguing“ with each other (they weren't fooling you), while you and jay walked down to the lake. talking and painting seemed to become your version of wining and dining.

that day, you had packed a second canvas, determined to teach jay the basics of painting.

“theory is important, but practice is where you bring it to life.“

you guided his shaky hands as he made his first stroke.

“start with broad strokes,“ you explained, demonstrating a sweeping motion. “don‘t worry about adding details yet.“

you kneeled behind him, arm draped around his shoulder for support as you leaned forward to place your hand over his.

he tried his best, but despite your brilliant guidance, his inexperience showed. years of looking into the theoretical aspects of art weren’t nearly enough to effectively apply all his knowledge in practice. he gained a newfound appreciation for painting after experiencing firsthand how challenging it could be. though he had to admit that you holding his hand so delicately was certainly distracting him as well.

if you hadn’t been so focused on keeping your racing heart under control, you might have picked up on the way he swallowed nervously.

on the fifth day, you managed to convince the group that your ankle was already much better.

you weren‘t exactly lying, but you weren’t being completely honest either. with rest, ice, and compression, the pain had improved significantly, but walking still wasn‘t as easy as you would‘ve liked.

the thing was, you just couldn‘t trust yourself around jay anymore. the urge to kiss him had completely spiraled out of control. it felt like what you imagined an omega would experience during their heat (not that you had any experience in that regard).

it was hard to keep up the facade of a calm, collected intellectual that was definitely not going insane over a man you’d met not even a week ago. to be fair, that facade had already started crumbling the moment you had outed yourself as a massive nerd, but still. this was worse.

showing him your drawings had been intimate enough, but then painting together—literally your own idea—the day before had been overwhelmingly, unbearably so. being so close to him, it had taken all your willpower not to seize him by his collar, pull him near, and passionately make out with him. but consent and having functioning brain cells were definitely more important, so you held yourself back—just barely.

his ridiculously charming smile, this sunkissed skin, his kind words—they had haunted you in your dreams that night. like okay, we get it. you want him. rein it in, cowboy.

so, for jay‘s own safety and also your sanity, you chose to endure the ache in your ankle as the group explored several towns surrounding lago di garda together.

for lunch, you grabbed fries from a booth and enjoyed them by the lakeside. that was until a seagull came swooping down with a squawk, startling you and causing you to drop your fries. ningning and you left the boys behind on the bench and hurried back to the stall for fresh, dirt-free fries.

"you still haven't kissed her?" sunghoon asked incredulously.

jay shook his head grimly. "i've already told you, i really shouldn't."

“but you want to?“ sunghoon pressed.

jay’s face contorted as if he were in pain. “yeah.“

"we‘re leaving in two days. if you want to kiss the girl, then kiss the girl, my dude. don‘t overthink it. it‘s not like you‘re pretending to be in love with her just to get your dick wet.“

"i didn‘t want to come here in the first place,“ jay said, choosing not to comment on sunghoon‘s blunt choice of words. “i wish i could take her out properly. buy her flowers. a kiss on the third date, if everything goes well and she likes me enough. not… whatever this is."

sunghoon seemed about to say more but quickly closed his mouth when he saw you and ningning approaching.

you stayed by ningning‘s side for most of the day, like a child hiding behind its mother, avoiding interacting with jay as much as possible. you could feel his eyes boring into your back as you walked ahead of him at a safe distance.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

the sky that evening was a canvas painted with the most breathtaking array of colors, transitioning from deep oranges and fiery reds near the horizon to softer pinks and purples higher up. you had dinner back at the hotel and were now sitting outside on the patio, drinking wine.

“oh, just imagine what the lake must look like right now,“ you mused dreamily, resting your head on your hands.

"why don‘t you go and see for yourself?" asked ningning, busy playing sudoku on her phone.

"i don't want to walk back alone in the dark. unless," you draped an arm around her shoulder, "you want to come with me."

ningning chuckled as she removed your arm. "do you know how many blisters i have from all the walking i've been doing?“

"i could come with you," came the suggestion from jay. all heads turned to him. sunghoon smirked at his friend. had he finally grown some balls?

you hesitated. was this really a good idea? you‘d been avoiding him all day for a very good reason.

but the sunset was so exceptionally beautiful; it might not be like this again before you left! oh, you‘d be fine.

so the two of you began the descent down to the lake once more—though you maintained a respectful distance to your companion. the scene was more beautiful than you could’ve ever imagined. the tranquil water of the lake mirrored the spectacular explosion of color in the sky. each ripple on the surface created by the evening breeze seemed to capture a fragment of the sunset, turning the water into a shimmering expanse of gold, pink, and lavender.

you were so entranced by the magical sunset that you momentarily forgot you were supposed to go absolutely feral for the man by your side.

it wasn‘t until the first stars began to twinkle faintly in the night sky, that you stopped walking along the shore taking pictures. the pebbles were cold against your skin as you settled down. siting there, you scrolled through the pictures you‘d taken, fireflies dancing around your heads as you admired what had just been lost to the horizon.

"back home, there is nothing nearly as pretty as this," you said softly.

"back home there is no one as pretty as you either."

you turned your head in surprise. now way you‘d heard him correctly. jay wore a serious expression, his gaze unwavering as he reached to cup your face, brushing a loose strand of hair to the side with his thumb. his eyes dropped to your lips.

“i know this is soon, but i’ll go insane if i don’t ask. can i kiss you?“

you blinked at him, your mind momentarily blank. there were things to be considered here but your brain did not seem to want to produce any thoughts, distracted by the sight of his plump lips and his soft touch. his thumb gently grazed your cheek.

"i only want to do this if you do too. i was trying to resist, but whenever i look at you, my heart starts pounding like crazy, and i keep on wondering if you taste just as sweet as you are."

"okay," you whispered against his lips, almost touching but not quite.

"i need a definite yes," he insisted.

"yes," you breathed out. "kiss me. please,” the last word came out almost pleadingly.

with that, he closed the gap and pressed his lips to yours. his movements were gentle, almost shy at first. jay moved his other hand to your cheek, holding your face delicately.

he let his forehead rest against yours, noses brushing against each other.

"wow," he breathed. you hummed in response, eyes still closed, trying to savor the moment.

you kissed him again, this time tangling your hands in jay's soft black strands while he let his wander down to respectfully rest on your waist. he responded to your kiss almost immediately, deepening it with much enthusiasm. lips parted and met with more vigor than before. the sounds that escaped your lips were all sorts of desperate as he caressed the soft curves of your body.

“finally, my omega is getting what it wants.“

you hadn‘t even realized you‘d said it until he pulled away, confusion in his eyes.

“what?“ he asked, still dazed from the kiss.

“oh, uh… have you ever heard of the omegaverse? a/b/o fics? well, how do i put it? humans are divided into alphas, betas, and omegas. and like omegas have these heat cycles, and when they go into heat, they need a lot of… um, GDDing or they‘ll go insane. good deep dicking? no? so, when they go into heat, they release all those pheromones which the alphas can smell and like they‘ll lose their minds if they don‘t do the GDDing immediately. and then there‘s knotting. that‘s when the alpha‘s penis swells and becomes engorged and then—“

“y/n,“ jay interrupted gently, rubbing his nose against yours affectionately, “i love your ramblings, i really do, and i promise you can tell me all about it later if you’d like. but right now, there‘s something else we could be doing instead?“

you swallowed nervously. “right.“

your own inner omega in heat activated again as soon as he started nibbling on your lower lip. you clung to him desperately, afraid he might let go, eagerly chasing his lips the moment he pulled away even just a little. he tugged you closer, positioning you to straddle him, allowing for a more comfortable angle to kiss. your head was quiet for once, allowing you to simply enjoy the sensation of being touched.

with his mouth on yours and his hands clawing at your waist, you never wanted this moment to end. the heat between you intensified, the world fading into a distant background. every touch, every desperate caress fueled a fire within you, igniting a longing that was almost scary, so intense and foreign was it.

eventually, though, you had to part to catch your breaths. jay rubbed soothing circles on your back with one hand, holding your face in his other as he stared into your eyes, whispering sweet nothings.

there were so many things you wanted to say, but didn't. thoughts of your fiancé back home flooded your mind.

jay continued to whisper sweet nothings as he held you in his arms, but there was so much that was left unspoken between you.

you needed to tell him. maybe he‘d know what to do, how to make this work. not now though; it‘d only ruin this sweet moment. you‘d do it tomorrow.

when each other's bodies were no longer enough to keep you warm, you decided to return to the hotel. he held your hand as you walked up the winding path, each squeeze communicating unspoken words, a silent exchange of emotions.

he bid you goodnight, his lips grazing your forehead. you were left a blushing mess as you went to sleep. ningning's light snores accompanied you as you were gradually transported to dreamland.

"what do you mean they're gone? how can they just be gone? they weren‘t supposed to leave until tomorrow." ningning said, her voice tinged with disbelief. soobin gulped nervously.

“i’m sorry, i don’t know the details. it seemed like an emergency,“ he replied, conveying what little information he had.

gone. they had left without a word. you felt your chest tighten as the reality of their sudden disappearance set in. the abruptness of his departure felt like a slap, leaving a raw, aching void where his presence had been.

“jay did ask me to give you these, though.“ soobin handed you the little frog figurines jay had bought on the first day. a small note was stuck to the underside of the one that resembled you.

i am sorry, please do not hate me. thank you for everything. you truly are special.

ningning and you had no choice but to spend the remainder of your last day alone. sulking by the pool, you lamented the short time spent together. one more day wouldn‘t have been much, but they hadn‘t even left their numbers or any other way to contact them. it was like a punch to the gut, not only to you but to ningning as well.

you wondered if there really had been an emergency. maybe you‘d managed to scare him away with your omagaverse talk. “you truly are special,“ you muttered to yourself bitterly. he probably meant special as in a fucking lunatic. god, who talked about knotting in the middle of making out? at least you hadn‘t gotten to mpreg yet or he'd have bolted immediately.

the next day you boarded an early flight back to seoul. you held onto a faint hope that maybe, just maybe, your mother would at least be relieved you returned safely. any normal parent would be concerned when their child disappeared for a couple of days without a word. only you didn’t have normal parents.

instead of relief, you were greeted with cold fury as your mother watched you enter through the front door. she barely spoke a word, grinding her teeth as she commanded you to go to your room, treating you as if you weren‘t a grown adult.

your room was your sanctuary, your safe space amidst the chaos that was your family. four large shelves divided into regular novels and manga held your literary treasures alongside funko pops of your favorite fictional characters (lots of todoroki and sailor moon). there had been instances where your mother had tried to throw everything out, hell, she’d even torn up some of your books, but you refused to let that force you into submission.

in one last desperate attempt to escape your situation, you chopped off most of your hair. if your “fiancé“ was anything like your, and presumably his, parents then he might just straight up refuse to marry you the moment he‘d see you. you thought the short hair suited you, but people could be incredibly shallow in such matters. you hoped this was one of those times.

“what have you done?“ your mother‘s sharp tone was a mixture of disappointment and outrage. she paced back and forth, gesturing to the remnants of hair strewn across the bathroom floor. “you knew how important today was!“

your mother took a step forward, her face flushed with anger. “you never listen, do you?“ she barked, her voice trembling. “you never consider anyone but yourself.“

you squared your shoulders, meeting her gaze defiantly. “maybe i‘m tired of trying to please you, mother.“

"i‘m trying to protect our family‘s interests,” she retorted, “and sometimes that means making sacrifices for the greater good. this merger with their family‘s hotel chain is crucial for our future. can‘t you see that?“

no matter how you pleaded or reasoned, nothing could sway your mother. you understood how important this merger was to your family‘s business empire, and you weren‘t so ignorant that you couldn‘t acknowledge the potential benefits. yet, you didn‘t understand why you were the one who had to sacrifice their own happiness for the sake of the family. one that had never cared about you, at that.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

the restaurant picked out for this pivotal first meeting with the chosen family exuded opulence and refinement, its interior bathed in the warm glow of chandeliers that reflected off polished wood and marble accents. as you arrived, the other family was already seated at a table near a large window overlooking a serene garden.

the mother of your fiancé greeted yours with a firm handshake, her slender figure clad in a tailored designer suit and exquisite diamonds dangling from her ears. she stood up gracefully upon your entrance, obscuring your view to the man seated behind her.

"park jiyoung, meet y/n, my daughter,” your mother introduced, her tone awfully chippy. “unfortunately, there was an accident at the hairdresser‘s, so please excuse the hair. i‘m sure it will grow out soon.“

under mrs. park’s scrutinizing gaze, which rivaled your own mother’s, discomfort pierced you like a dagger.

"welcome, y/n, to our family. it's nice to finally meet you.“ the fake smile on her lips suggested she hadn’t yet quite approved of you as the most suitable match for her son.

“and this is the pride of our family, park jongseong. i believe you‘ve met."

she stepped to the side, revealing the man sitting behind her. he stood up and reluctantly stepped forward.

he was wearing a dark blue suit that elegantly emphasized his broad shoulders, while his neatly styled black hair gleamed under the soft chandelier lights. his eyes, dark and narrow, were cast downward toward the natural stone flooring. there, discreetly nestled against the skin of his neck, you saw a detail that momentarily froze time for you.

a heart-shaped birthmark.

memories flooded your mind — turquoise waters, steep mountainsides, fireflies swirling around your head, fingers digging into the softness of your skin. standing before you now as park jongseong, the man chosen to be your husband, was unmistakably your jay. the one who had kissed you and told you you were special.

the same jay now seemed less surprised than you felt. he avoided meeting your eyes, looking like a guilty puppy caught in the act, and a suspicion stirred within you that made your stomach churn. you felt sick. impossible, you thought. but looking at the man, no, the stranger in front of you, you weren‘t so sure.

his gaze darted around the room, landing everywhere but on you, as if unable to face the weight of your shared history and the unspoken questions hanging between you. every instinct in you yearned to reach out, to demand answers, to plead with him to acknowledge the bond that had once felt so real. yet, his avoidance spoke louder than words, filling the air with a painful silence that echoed the betrayal you felt.

had it all been just an act?

a/n: omg i love you sm if you made it to the end! reblogs, likes & feedback are always highly appreciated 🫶🏻 🫶🏻🫶🏻

ngl i hope y'all don't hate me for not making this a cute simple love story LMAOO i'm already working on a part 2

here are pictures of lago di tenno btw! i didn’t lie about the color

113 notes · View notes

solar-wing · 1 year ago

Text

⚣ Predator & Prey 🔥

Check out Part One🦍 if you haven't already!

⚣🔥 A/N → For anyone who has read the previous version of this on my original account, no you're not crazy. In the process of me editing and revising, I took out and/or added some parts. Which. speaking of, the NSFW is over 2000 words longer than the original. I need to be stopped. WARNINGS: INTERSEX Male Reader. Canon-Typical Violence. Dub-Con slightly leaning into Non-Con. Emotional triggers. More Ass-smacking. Manhandling. SFW Version Posted here. NSFW version posted to Patreon (IT'S FREE TO READ)!

⚣🔥 Summary → After an eventful afternoon of being manhandled and groped by your sexually crazed teammate, your teammates finally managed to subdue the Kryptonian and get you out of his grasp, thanks to Batman's insurance policy. As you all leave him to recover and rest after learning the serum's true purpose, you find yourself trapped inside a powered-down with only you and Conner left inside. How are you going to get out of this one?

⚣🔥 Words → 7.5k

REBLOGS and replies are very appreciated, please 💛

⚣ ENJOY 🔥

Half an hour.

It took half an hour for your team to free you from Conner’s grasp. And these people had the nerve to call themselves heroes.

They chased him throughout the entire Cave while sealing off the exit in the vehicle hangar since he tried to escape the headquarters with you.

All you could do was watch from your position slung over the Kryptonian’s shoulder as they tried different tricks and ambushes to subdue him. At some point, you used your powers to melt the makeshift cuffs on your wrists, freeing your bound hands which Conner was not happy about at all if the way he spanked your ass said something about it.

Whenever you tried to free yourself from his hold, he’d spank, pinch, or claw at your butt as a punishment. He’d sometimes shake you around a bit to try and disorient you. It worked in his favor since you spent so much time hanging upside down while being jerked around from his constant running and leaping, that it’d leave you dizzy at times. Your legs had even fallen asleep at some point while your neck was sore from constantly having to hold your head and upper body up.

Thankfully, with your now free hands, you could hold yourself up easier by placing your hands on Conner’s back. Which was totally not extremely hot and attractive from how sweaty and shiny his skin looked from the parts you could see through his torn shirt.

So not hot.

Yeah, I’ll take $1000 for WORLD’S BIGGEST LIAR!

Anyway, that was just Conner’s way of dealing with you. He was much more brutal with your friends.

Your comrades may as well have been world-class villains the way he was fighting them. But, that was only if they tried to help you or got too close for his liking. If they attacked him, he’d just maneuver and dodge out of the way.

Red Tornado was right with his earlier warning to the group. Conner didn’t seem to care about himself, he only cared about keeping you out of their reach. In his primal state of mind, you belonged to him, and so he was defending his territory.

At one point, Wally got close to freeing you. While Zatanna and M’Gann kept the Kryptonian distracted from the front, the speedster sneakily sped up behind you two to grab your hands, thinking he could just pull you off from Conner’s shoulder before he could react.

Unfortunately, you both once again underestimated his abilities. His reflexes were fast enough that the second he felt your body start to slip from his hold, he turned around and had Wally by the throat against one of the walls. Even though he didn’t try to choke him, it was enough to shock you all.

Conner only let him go when you pressed glowing hands against his back to burn him which earned you a hefty smack on the ass. You’d be very surprised if you looked in the mirror and didn’t see an outline of Conner’s handprint on your behind which also had to have been red like a tomato from his rough treatment of it. Just from how hot and stinging your skin felt under the suit, you knew it would be sore and you’d have trouble sitting for the next few hours.

You’d pretty much lost all hope until Batman pulled out his ‘contingency plan’, a ring made of green kryptonite he had stashed in his utility belt.

When Conner was distracted, the Dark Knight swooped in and got one good hit across the face with the ring, which was enough to disorient him and loosen the grip he had over your legs. You immediately took advantage of the moment to free yourself, reaching your arm backward to press your glowing hand against his arm holding your thighs. He screamed in pain, which you felt bad for, but when his arm dropped as he shook your hand off, you finally could roll off his shoulder onto the ground, happy to feel a solid surface again.

The Kryponite obviously did a number since Conner didn’t recover as fast. But, it wasn’t enough to knock him completely back. The moment he realized you were no longer in his hold, he screamed out in rage before trying to grab you again.

Batman swooped in and got another hit before he could reach you though, this time on his abdomen knocking him down. Then, Robin came by with another larger piece of kryptonite, just in case. Where Batman had all this kryptonite stored, you didn’t know. Frankly, you didn’t think you wanted to know.

You hated hearing his screams of pain, but you’d rather he be knocked out and sedated than trying to pin you against another wall.

Well, maybe you wouldn’t mind that. Just without the aggressive and dominant behavior.

Alright, you wouldn’t mind that either!

You just didn’t like it happening in front of your friends. It was all you could do to even glance at M’Gann when she and your teammates came to help you onto your feet as the numbing feeling slowly retreated from your legs.

Even your waist was sore since you spent so much time hanging from Conner’s shoulders. You were just thanking whatever deity out there that you didn’t pee yourself while all this was happening because the pressure against your bladder seriously made it quite the job.

Speaking of, you really should go take care of that.

“He’ll be fine.” You heard Batman say as you returned from the showers. When you made it to the bathroom in time, you decided to take a shower as well, stripping your suit and throwing it into the wash for…reasons.

Don’t ask.

You found your team in the medical wing of the Cave, standing around while listening to Batman’s diagnosis.

“It indeed was a serum designed to amplify Conner’s basic primal instincts. The same instincts we all have but have somewhat regressed over time due to evolution. His Kryptonian genes increase these instincts naturally on their own, but the serum manages to subdue the human part of his DNA and mind, turning his brain into a more primitive state. Had it been fully administered, we would’ve been dealing with an enraged and homicidal animal. But, since Y/N prevented that, we got–”

“An enraged animal with a bad case of blue balls.” Wally cut in while snacking as usual.

“Yes, that,” The Dark Knight said, turning back to look at the computer. Red Tornado was by another computer, analyzing the samples of the serum they’d gotten from the syringe you recovered.

“It seems the serum is not permanent. After a diagnostic scan of vitals, the dosage has already started to dissipate as his immune system works to remove it. With his Kryptonian DNA, it should be fully neutralized by the end of the day.” Red Tornado stated.

You could feel the tension in the room relax as your friends were happy to hear your comrade was going to be okay. Moreso, he wasn’t going to wake up and try to kill them all again, even if he didn’t really try in the first place.

“We need to move to the Watchtower. With this new development, the League needs to be aware of these new tactics our enemies are using,” Batman stated, closing his screen before walking off towards the central room, Red Tornado following closely behind.

You and your friends could hear the Zeta tube powering up, as the system announced your superior's departure. The room fell quiet for a moment.

It didn’t last long before Wally spoke up. Typical.

“Well, today’s been fun,” He said with a mocking tone.

You all laughed at the sentiment. Even with the chaos today, you could admit that the day’s events did make for a funny story in the future, despite how embarrassing it was.

“How are you feeling, Y/N?” You heard Zatanna ask.

“Oh, other than basically getting molested in front of my team and carried around like a sack of potatoes, I’m feeling quite good. A little warm, if not,” You joked.

Your friends chuckled at your lightheartedness, respecting the obvious fact that you didn’t want to talk about the situation. Especially Wally, who was aware of your feelings towards your team’s resident Kryptonian.

Your eyes floated over to the green martian, who despite putting on a smile, you could tell was also affected by this…ordeal.

“Sorry, M’Gann.” You said, not knowing what else to say.

Everyone shifted a bit uncomfortably as well, knowing that the subject of Conner & M’Gann was still a little touchy. Why did they break up? None of you knew besides them, and you guessed they wanted to keep it that way. It was just surprising since they seemed like the perfect couple, but as you were keenly aware, some things weren’t always as great as they appeared.

“It’s okay, Y/N. It’s not your fault. Conner and I broke up, so there’s no reason for me to be upset.” She said, giving you a reassuring smile. You were happy to see she wasn’t holding anything against you, your friendship still intact.

“I’m just glad you stopped Ivo before he could give Conner that entire dosage. If this was him on just half of that serum, I don’t even want to begin to imagine what could’ve happened if he succeeded.” Kal said.

You all shuddered at the thought.

“Well, I’m still offended over the fact he basically said we all stink.” Artemis expressed.

“I don’t know about that. He may have been right about you. I mean, have you ever stopped to smell your armpits in your suit.” Wally teased, holding his nose and waving his other hand in front of it.

“Oh, I know you’re not talking! Have you ever smelled yourself after one of your runs? It’s like a sweatshop found inside a dumpster.” Artemis mocked in return.

They were about to continue their bickering, but at the behest of Kal, your friends moved out of the medical wing and headed toward the kitchen and lounge room to make some dinner, giving Conner time to rest. Wally asked you to stay behind though for a second, promising the others you’d catch up in a minute.

“You doing okay?” Wally asked, pausing in his gorging of pretzel sticks.

You needed a moment to think. Were you okay?

Despite basically being molested (even if you liked it), something was nagging at the center of your chest. Was it the fact that you hated how you may have hurt M’Gann by her being a witness to her ex trying to do you against the cave walls? Or was it the fact that you actually didn’t feel all that bad because a part of you liked the fact that the Kryptonian was more focused on you for a change? It was no secret you could’ve done more to escape his grasp. But, did you hold back because, in reality, you wanted it to be real?

Well, that was obvious.

You didn’t want to escape his grasp. You wanted it to go further. The idea of Conner taking you against your will, having his way with you in that aggressive and animalistic way? Not only was it A) extremely hot, and B) one of your biggest wet dreams since you met Superboy the day you first joined the team, but it was the fact that you were actually living out that fantasy.

The boy you were crazy for was showing you attention. He was focused on you and your wants. But in the end, it was only because of the result of some crazy hormone-inducing drug. It wasn’t genuine. It wasn’t real. A cruel but typical twist by fate.

Well, as typical as you can for someone of your lifestyle.

This was worse than those times when you'd find out a guy was straight after you felt like they were flirting with you. Only this time, the flirting was in the form of ass-groping and manhandling which again, you did not object to at all.

Oh shoot, Wally was still waiting for an answer.

“I’ll be fine.” You said, not knowing how to express how you felt to the speedster without breaking down.

“I know it’s gotta suck man. Having your crush all on you like that only for it to be because some evil Doctor wanted to use him to kill us all.” Your friend replied, placing a hand on your shoulder for comfort.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his idea of comfort. The boy may be extremely smart, but as the famous statement proves time and time again, common sense wasn’t always so common. And the idea that you probably didn’t want to hear that what happened between you and Conner was fake, and would probably…not even probably, never happen again was in short, like pouring salt on an already bad wound.

But, it was Wally. The notion was appreciated anyway.

“I’ll be alright man. Yeah, it was nice to feel like for a moment, I had something I wanted in my grasp, but I always knew in the back of my mind it wasn’t real.” You expressed, the words feeling like a hard swallow in your throat.

“Sorry dude. But, to be fair, it was more like you were in his grasp,” Wally remarked.

“You just can’t be serious for more than three seconds can you?”

“Hey, don’t be mad at me. I saw the look on your face when Conner had you against the wall.”

Wally placed himself against the wall behind him, mimicking the position Conner had you in earlier, “Oh no, stop Superboy, please don’t take me against your will, even though I want you to, you big strong brute. Oh no…”

You pinched your nose while holding back your laughs as Wally continued his performance. If this is actually what you looked and sounded like, you’d be casting yourself off to the nearest deserted island to hide away in isolation for the rest of eternity.

You had to give him props for his acting though.

“Huh, didn’t take you as one with a touch for the dramatics.” You joked.

“What can I say, I’m a gifted man.”

“Oh you’re something alright,” You two continued joking back and forth with each other as you started to exit the medical wing. You took one last glance at Conner who was still out cold, then a thought struck you.

“Does Batman always keep kryptonite on him?” You asked, pausing in your walking.

“Yep. Apparently, he’s got stockpiles of it in the Batcave. Calls them his “insurance policies” in case Superman was ever to fall under the control of the enemy like what happened with Vandal Savage and his cronies. Dick says he’s got insurance plans for all the members of the league for ‘just in case’ purposes.” Wally answered, still stuffing his mouth with pretzel sticks and using one of his hands to create air quotes.

“Even us?”

“I don’t know but who knows? You know Batman. I’d be surprised if he didn’t have something up in that tool kit of his or somewhere around here.”

You nodded your head, not knowing how to reply to that. I guess it was good to have protective measures in case something like that were to even happen. It just disturbed you how Batman knew enough about everyone in the League to know their biggest weakness.

To your knowledge, you didn’t have any direct ones. The only thing you knew regarding your powers was that as long as your body temperature stayed at a certain degree, your powers really couldn’t be nullified. And they were more connected to your emotions anyway so there wasn’t anything you could think of that Batman could have against you, but even then…

We were talking about the ‘World’s Greatest Detective’. As Wally said, you’d be surprised if he didn’t have something up his sleeve.

As you and your friend exited out of the medical wing and headed for the lounge room with the others, neither of you had caught the moment when Conner’s fist clenched at his side.

The day was over and you were walking back toward the central room, about to Zeta tube yourself back to your city and head home for the night. Wally, Robin, and Artemis had already left while Kal, M’Gann, and Zatanna decided to go walking around Happy Harbor.

Red Tornado hadn’t come back from the Watchtower yet so it was just you. Well, you and Conner, but he was still passed out in the medical wing where you and Wally left him.

Batman and Red Tornado said the serum would have been out of his system by the end of the day. You figured that and all the fighting must have exhausted him so he was just catching up on some Zzzs. Lord knows you were ready to do the same after the day you had.

The Cave was quiet, which was unsettling considering there was always something going on which resulted in noise, leaving an eerie feeling in your chest but you decided to ignore it. Reaching the central hub and entering the coordinates into the mainframe you heard the chamber begin to activate before the power suddenly blinked out and the Zeta tube shut down.

“What the heck?” You muttered to yourself.

The red emergency lights came on as the system announced a power failure as the backup power generators kicked on. You pulled your communicator out to call your friends, but all you were getting was static.

“Ugh, crappy service. How do you have the most high-tech gadgets, and still can’t get a good signal even in a cave?”

These people needed some serious priority checks.

You placed your backpack down at the center console before conjuring a fireball in your hand to give you some more light. You headed down the hallway, hearing the sounds of your footsteps echo in the halls.

That creepy eerie feeling had returned, and you could feel yourself slightly on edge. When you made it to the generator room which also happened to be the vehicle hangar, you looked around trying to spot which one was the panel you needed to open.

Suddenly, the sound of movement caught your ears, and you jumped around heart racing preparing to launch your fireball at whatever the source was. You stopped yourself in time though when you saw it was just Sphere and Wolf, sitting at the entrance of the cave.

You brought your hands to your heart, feeling the intense pumping underneath your chest as you tried to calm your breathing, “Dammit guys, don’t scare me like that.”

They stared at you, not really moving or doing anything. Well, Sphere kind of always just stares since she doesn’t have a face. But, Wolf looked weird. Instead of laying down and relaxing like he normally does, he just sat there on his hind legs, as if he was standing guard or something.

“Alright, you two are officially acting weird. But, I’ll just chuck it up to the power outage. Don’t worry, they make me nervous too. I’ll figure it out.” You said to them, neither really responding. Not that you’d understand anyway. That was more up Conner’s alley.

You let the flame encircle your hand again, as you looked at the walls to see the cable paths and where they led. As you traced their lines up and around the walls, you finally saw where they all converged, seeing multiple different panels lining the wall.

“Bingo.” You smiled.

Walking over to the different panels, you looked at the different labels to see which was which. When you found the one labeled ‘POWER’, you put in the code to unlock the panel, opening it up. You checked the fuses to see which one had been blown, but they all appeared fine.

Your sinking feeling started to return as you couldn’t figure out what the problem was until you saw it clear as day, and the hairs on the back of your neck stood up as a result. The switch for the power generator was in the ‘Off’ position.

A fuse wasn’t blown nor was this the outage. Someone deliberately shut the power off.

“Ah, fuck!”

You felt your heart jump in your chest when a hand suddenly grabbed you from behind while another came up to cover your mouth, your screams muffled under their palm. Whoever your attacker was attempted to pull you back as you fought against them, wrapping their arm around your neck while you were doing everything you could to throw them off of you.

Your hands flew to their arm around your neck to pull as you felt them tightening it, restricting your airflow. A familiar chuckle sounded in your ear, but you were too focused on getting yourself free to think about it. They had caught you by surprise, but you’d be damned if you were going to let them think they had you so easily.

Hands glowing bright orange, you took them and aimed for what you hoped was the person’s face. Your attempt was successful as you felt one of your hands make contact, your attacker screaming in pain while releasing you to probably rub their face.

Wasting no time, you leaned forward before launching yourself around and performing a roundhouse kick straight to their face, not giving them any time to recover.

They fell back on their butt, hands still covering their face. You didn’t pay attention to their clothes or anything about them as your arms began to grow that orange hue again, preparing to roast them like a Thanksgiving turkey.

“Alright buddy, I don’t know who you are, but you choose the wrong place to trespass and the wrong person to attack,” You said, getting ready to release a volcano level of heat upon them before you finally saw their face when they brought their hands away.

“Conner!” You shouted, pausing in your movement.

The half-Kryptonian looked at you for a brief moment before you saw a smirk on his face as he launched himself at you with his usual shout, taking advantage of your hesitation.

You grunted as he tackled you back onto the ground. His hand immediately went for your neck again as you saw an arrogant but lustful gaze on his face.

‘Guess the serum didn’t wear off completely after all,’ You thought to yourself as you wrapped your hands around his wrist, trying to pull the hand off of you. You felt his other hand tracing down your body, but considering this time you were in shorts and a tank top, you were more receptive to the touch as he was now getting to feel your bare skin without the barrier of your super suit.

The feeling was nice, but you weren’t going to let yourself go down that road. You would not allow yourself to be played with like that. Not again…

“Sorry for this Conner,” You said quickly, a confused expression crossing his face before he watched your eyes also glow bright orange, two beams of concentrated fire shooting out of them and directly into his eyes. He screamed in pain, releasing your neck as you brought back your foot and kicked him off you.

While he recovered, you got back up and ran to the power generator. You switched the power back on, watching as the lights came back. Your moment of reprieve was short-lived though as the Superboy had recovered and was coming right for you.

You reacted quickly enough though, grabbing the hand that was reaching out for you before swinging your body under him with his arm, twisting it behind his back. He yelled out in pain while you blasted him forward to the ground.

His frustrated breaths filled the silent room as he got himself back up. He slowly turned himself back to face you, a calculating expression on his face.

Conner? Calculating his next move? Instead of just rushing you?

Yeah, it was time for you to go.

When the Kryptonian realized you were about to move, he tried to rush you again but you had blasted yourself off the ground. Moving to head back through the hallway to the central hub where you saw Sphere and Wolf just looking at you. Again, Sphere had no expression, but you could tell by Wolf’s stance that he was prepared to pounce if you even thought about going that way. That’s when you understood.

“So you two are playing guard dog and guard…sphere, huh? Figures.” You muttered.

Wolf huffed at you, not appreciating that comment.

The sound of a crash behind you caught your attention as you turned and saw Conner had launched himself onto the wall, hanging off it like a monkey hung off a tree.

‘For the guy who hates monkeys, he sure enjoys acting like them.’ You thought to yourself.

You realized your predicament when you looked at both your only exits. Try to go out one way, and you’ll have a wolf and an alien sphere that can turn into an entire bike on you. Try the other way, and Conner gets his hands on you.

And even if you managed to make it past Sphere and Wolf without getting maimed, what stopped the Kryptonian from just shutting off the power again before you reached the Zeta tube?

The predator and his cornered prey.

The flames waving off your body were the only sound in the room, as you stared at Conner head-on.

He looked back at you with a challenging gaze before taking his free hand and pointing at you, and then turning those same fingers to himself. His way of basically saying you belonged to him. How romantic…

“Sorry, Tiger. But, I prefer a few dates and gifts before I commit myself to someone. My ex taught me that.”

The Kryptonian growled angrily at your words, not appreciating the sentiment of you insulating yourself with another person. And though you kept a bit of distance between you, you could tell Conner was waiting for the perfect opportunity to nab you.

With everyone gone, he didn’t have to worry about anyone besides yourself trying to stop him. And apparently, he didn’t think you were going to be that much of a challenge. Or did he? Considering he tried to ambush you by shutting off the power, which speaking of?

All of this seemed a little bit too planned out and smart for someone with a primitive brain. Not to sound like you were calling the Kryptonian stupid, because you weren’t, but if what Batman said was true and Conner was really thinking like a primate from the caveman days, then how did he figure this all out?

Waiting until everyone left before shutting off the power to prevent you from leaving? Cornering you in a room where one exit would be out of commission without power and using Wolf and Sphere to guard the only other escape route? And, even if you were to make it past those two and hide somewhere, he could just use his night vision and super-hearing to find you.

It was all too convenient, too thought out to have come from a subdued and horny-crazed mind.

Had the effects of the serum only slightly worn off, keeping Conner in this primal state of mind but giving him just enough cognitive thinking to actually plan out his moves? Could it even be possible that this was actually the Kryptonian himself acting on his own urges, and not being persuaded by some sex juice pumping through his veins?

You looked toward the Superboy hanging off the wall, seeing the way his dilated pupils stared at you, full of lust and want. All of his attention was on you as he gazed at your body up and down.

Then, you remembered something else Red Tornado had mentioned before he and Batman left for the Watchtower.

“As we concluded earlier, Conner, instead of focusing on his natural instinct to hunt and kill, chose to focus on his hormonal urge of capturing a potential mate. And, Y/N apparently had been his choice. Certain wild species are known for choosing their partners based on mating rituals where the dominant has to prove themselves capable to the desired partner by hunting and subduing them. Smells are also a major factor in these rituals, where these animals are known to go after the scent that is most familiar and desirable to them. Though, why that scent happened to be Y/N’s would be a question only Conner could answer.

So basically, the Kryptonian was the hunter, and you were the hunted.

And he set all this up as a test for himself to prove to you that he deserved the right to fuck your brains out.

The predator and his cornered prey. How cliché.

This was a game to the Kryptonian. And what would happen if he’d won?

Conner would get to fuck you, the serum would wear off and everything would go back to normal? And who’s to say the Kryptonian might even remember the encounter?

There’s been plenty of times when you and the Team came out from under a drug or some spell and didn’t remember the events that led you all there. You’d keep all the memories of this exchange while Conner wouldn’t recall a thing, thus, for him, nothing would be weird or awkward. Only you would have to deal with the emotional aftermath of these entire events. Yeah, your friends would be there to help, but it wasn’t them having their hearts and emotions played with, it was you. They wouldn’t understand.

Nah, fuck that.

No matter how hot all of this may be, you were not about to be some one and dump for anyone, even if it was your crush.

Conner stared at you, waiting for you to make the first move. You saw the glow of your body reflected in his eyes, but it was also like you were seeing the fire inside of him that burned for you.

It was pleasant, to say the least.

But, this was once again a cat-and-mouse scenario like earlier. Only this time, you knew the longer the chase went on, the more excited the cat got at finally catching the mouse.

Due to the circumstances surrounding the situation, you could easily see Conner was willing to play the long game. Shutting down the Cave, using Wolf and Sphere as accomplices to this whole thing, cornering you in the vehicle hangar, he was willing to let this play out as long as possible. As long as it ended with him getting to mount you like some dog.

No offense to Wolf.

And, waiting till everyone was out of the Cave? Not having to worry about anyone interfering since there was virtually no way to get back inside the HQ without blowing a hole in the mountain, which also would alert the Kryptonian, thus giving him enough time to make a swift exit with you if need be.

‘Nope. It ain’t going down like this.’

Conner tilted his head when he saw you slowly backing up. He could tell you were up to something.

Before he had time to react, you shot off all the energy you could summon to create a giant firewall. You knew it wouldn’t hold him since he was invulnerable. But, you were counting on the distraction it would give you.

You flew back as if you were going to fight your way through Sphere and Wolf who were ready for you. When you heard Conner’s scream behind you as he launched himself through your wall straight for you before dodging out of the way, letting him crash straight into Wolf and Sphere while you made a break for the hatch door.

Not wasting any time, you immediately went for the control panel to the garage hatch door and entered the command to open it. You didn’t have much time though as you’d hoped when Conner realized your deception. And he was not happy about it if the frustrated yell he let out was anything to go by.

Slowly backing up as the door opened more, you let off a torrent of fire waves at the Kryptonian as he tried to make his way toward you. His shirt got more and more singed as he pushed through your power attacks. You didn’t let up though, needing the door to open just a few more inches for you to get through.

Why was it on any other day, things like this door seemed to move faster, but when you needed them to move quickly, they went slow as hell?

‘Come on… come on…’

As soon as the door was open enough for you to fly through, you shot one strong fire beam at the Kryptonian to push him back as you flew backward, moving as fast as you could.

When you made it through the hatch, you let your power go as you flew out of the Cave, making your escape. You felt relief run through your body as you looked at the night sky and the moon shining over the ocean, but that feeling was short-lived.

You’d gotten about 50 feet away though before you felt a strong force tackle you down before lifting you back up, stopping you from hitting the ground. Turning your head, you looked to see Conner staring at you with a smug look as he held your squirming body in his arms, you both floating high above the ground.

“Conner?! Ho- … How are you flying?”

As far as you knew, because he was only half-Kryptonian, he only got half of Superman’s abilities. The only way he could unlock all his powers was using one of those patch things that subdued the human side of his DNA and – oh.

FUCK!

He tucked you under his arm without a second thought, having you face toward his back before flying back through the garage hatch door. You did everything you could to get out of his hold, but there wasn’t much you could do to the Kryptonian since he was invulnerable, especially now that he was at full strength.

When he got you both back inside, he entered the command to close the hatch door before smashing the panel entirely, rendering the door useless. But, he wasn’t done there.

Using his own heat vision, he created a seal around the edges of the door, locking and securing you both inside even more just in case your teammates got back and tried to force it open. He even zapped your butt with it as well, chuckling at the yelp you let out.

Once he finished that, he let you down before backing you against the wall, an egotistical smirk on his lips as he rubbed his hands down your body. He didn’t waste any time before shoving his face right into your neck again, licking and biting wherever he could as he forced your body to grind against his.

‘Not this again.’

It took a little work, but, to your luck, since Conner was overconfident thinking he’d won, his guard was down.

With a little maneuvering, you let the Superboy feel the blunt force of your knee against his super jewels. Pun intended.

Kryptonian or not, that’s a type of weakness no guy can overcome.

With him crouched over in pain, you shoved him off before attempting to fly back toward the main tunnel. If you couldn’t get out of Mount Justice on your own, the best you could do was find somewhere to hide until the others got back.

But, Conner still wasn’t letting you get away from him that easily. He grabbed you by your ankle before pulling back and throwing you to the ground, managing to disorient you like earlier when the MONQI robots had dropped you. He placed himself on top of you to pin you down but you didn’t come this far to give up now.

You shot your heat vision at the brown-haired boy’s eyes again, missing by a few inches but snagging him in the face. Visibly angered by this and done with your defiant behavior, he wrapped his arms under you to lift you from the ground and slam you back down, prolonging your daze. You continued to fight back though, especially when you noticed something metallic and shiny he grabbed off his belt.

How you didn’t notice it there before, who knows.

And quite frankly, you didn’t really care.

All you were concerned about was not letting him get it on you. You quickly blasted him some more with your heat vision doing everything you could to shove him off you. Almost managing to succeed too until Conner got the upper hand when he ripped his tattered shirt off his body and covered your face with it. Your heat vision burned right through it, but your temporary blindness provided the Kryptonian with the opportunity he needed to slam whatever that metal thing was around your wrist.

The moment it snapped shut, you felt a shudder run through your body as a chilling sensation took over. Next thing you knew, the flames around your body and the glow in your eyes had completely dissipated.

‘What the…’

You tried to summon a fireball, heat blast, or even a tiny little flame with nothing happening, your powers seemingly gone. Conner, who was now completely straddling your body, held another smug look on his face as his accomplishment. That’s when you looked at the wrist clamp the Kryptonian put on you, seeing the blue dot glowing at the center of it. Whatever was blocking your powers was being caused by this device, which meant this could only be one thing.

“Huh, so Batman did have an insurance policy for me. Great…” You muttered, hearing a satisfied chuckle from Connor. Your eyes went wide when you realized something.

“You were awake earlier! You were awake the whole time. You heard me and Wally talking!” You accused, but the half-Kryptonian didn’t reply. Only continued to stare at you, not hiding how his eyes crawled up and down your body which was covered in a fair amount of sweat from your earlier brawls.

You tried to see if you could knock him off while he was gloating, hoping the combat Batman and Black Canary taught you didn’t fail you at this moment, but the brown-haired boy was once again ten steps ahead of you as he grabbed both your arms, slamming your upper body back down to the ground.

A frustrated cry left your lips as you stared up at the boy who was still gloating as he reached into his pockets while pinning your hands above you. Looking down, you saw him pull out a pair of metal handcuffs, and not any regular kind either. These were League-style restraints that were almost impossible to break through or escape.

“Don’t you even think about it,” You warned as he smirked at you before moving off your body to flip you around on your stomach.

A pleased growl left his lips as he watched your thrashing body move on the ground, trying to escape his hold. He placed himself above your squirming legs holding them together while conveniently positioning his crotch right above your ass where you could feel him rubbing his hardness against you.

It was all you could do to not moan out loud while trying to calm the horniness down in your own body as you felt the Kryptonian ground himself against you. Of course, this little distraction tactic of his was purposeful as he brought your arms behind your back, placing your wrist into the handcuffs to bind your hands together.

With you fully secured and nowhere to run, Conner took a moment to admire his prize, unconsciously puffing his chest out at his successful capture. You could feel his excitement as well as he continued to grind his front into your rear end, leaning over your body to nip at the back of your neck.

You did your best to hold in your noises of pleasure in plain, not wanting to give any more smug satisfaction to the Kryptonian. Of course, he didn’t appreciate this sentiment one bit, moving off you to flip your body on its back before moving himself in between your legs. His hands found their way back to your hair and around your waist as he yanked your head back, exposing your neck to him while lifting your lower body slightly off the ground to rub both your crotches together.

The moan that escaped your lips was almost inevitable from the friction you felt between your legs as he ground your pelvises together while having a field day on your neck.

With you fully bound and virtually defenseless, nothing was stopping him from having full access to your body. You tried your hardest to ignore the pleasurable feelings running through different areas of your body, but it didn’t do much as you felt yourself getting wet in your pants again.

It didn’t help that your clothes were fairly thin which he definitely appreciated if the way his hand around your waist was caressed your body said anything. A bonus for him but a negative for you was the Kryptonian’s shirtless state allowing you to feel the heat from his skin against yours even through the loose garments of clothing on your body.

You could smell the dark brown-haired boy’s musk, which was amplified slightly due to his mild sweaty state from your earlier scuffle. While you were never one who liked the smell of funk, you couldn’t help that the scent for whatever reason went straight down to your pants, making you even wetter than before which the Kryptonian could also feel from his skin rubbing against the dampening spot on your shorts.

Suddenly, he quickly leaned up with his hands still holding onto your head forcing you up with him. He’d made sure to grab his shirt off the ground before pinning you against the wall. You groaned from the rough treatment as you felt his hands grabbing at your tank top before you heard a loud ripping sound, looking down to see Conner had split your tank top apart.

“Hey! This was one of my favorites, you freaking brute.” You complained.

He tore a large piece of your shirt off before sticking it in your face, letting out a small grunt as he waited for you to do something. You stared at him confused for a few seconds until you realized what was happening. He was ordering you to open your mouth so he could gag you.

“Oh, you’re out of your geno-morphing mind if you think that’s happening.” You retorted with a defiant tone, the Kryptonian narrowing his eyes at you.

Before you knew what was happening, he grabbed your jaw with the torn piece of your shirt in his hand, forcing you to tilt your head up before his other hand laid a heavy smack on your ass causing you to yelp.

The moment your mouth flew open, he stuffed the shirt into your mouth, muffling the sound of your scream. You thrashed around more in his hold, trying to spit the piece of clothing out but he pressed his body against yours rendering you still.

While holding the first piece of cloth in your mouth to keep you from spitting it out, he grabbed his torn shirt, craftily using his hand to twist it into a tight long piece like people do with wet towels before proceeding to snap them at you like their whips.

He placed his twisted shirt directly on the cloth between your open lips, before wrapping both ends around to the back of your head, tying them together in a tight knot, securing your makeshift gag in place.

The Kryptonian let out his own bodily sounds of approval and arousal at the sight of your helpless and available body.

With your arms restricted and mouth gagged, it was easy for him to sling you back over his shoulder, with you whining from finding yourself back in the same position you were in earlier. He stepped over the mess you two (well, really you) made, not even bothering to clean it up.

You were still moaning and whining softly into the garment stuff in your mouth, as you tried to calm the growing arousal in your abdomen. Conner smiled proudly at that, feeling pride at the thought that he was the source of your aroused and excited state. before heading back over to the switch panels, shutting the power down in the Cave again.

Now, it was time for him to claim you fully, without any more distractions or interruptions.

‘Mine,’ He softly growled, squeezing your ass with his hand as he walked up the ramp, your head and body slightly bouncing up and down with every step the Kryptonian took. He walked past his two-door guardians who turned to follow after having bared witness to your entire pornographic display with their half-human companion.

Conner won, and you’d failed. He managed to catch you in his trap, despite all your efforts of resisting him.

The predator had finally caught its prey.

☀️ | Conner Kent/Superboy | ☀️

☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️

Patreon link for the full version!

🦍 | Part Three | 🦍

342 notes · View notes

snifferish · 1 year ago

Text

This is some random writer’s thoughts so heads up.

I was having a discussion with my friends (who are not writers but avid readers) about publishing and author’s age. I’ve seen some criticism in the past surrounding author’s ages and how the quality of writing corresponds to that, etc. While it does come from age = more experience, a lot of this commentary also comes from the publishing industry as a whole, and the rush to publish as soon as you can out of highschool/college.

I definitely understand where this critique comes from, especially as an writer who barely turned twenty. However, I can’t also help but notice with a lot of the books I’m reading nowadays (that have been published in the last fiveish years) that most of them are on the edge of being something REALLY good, and the things that would have pushed it there could have been sorted out with editing and proper feedback from beta readers. That, I’ve experienced with authors of all ages, and is not really something I see as a problem with them but the publishing industry as a whole and the rush of it. On the other side of it, I think it just comes down to, people don’t write the best things sometimes. I don’t expect many debut novels to be the best thing an authors ever written (I know mine sure as hell won’t) but I think it’s okay to not have everything be perfect. Sometimes I’m very happy to see author’s progress in skill over time. It’s satisfying. My big time take away from all this, is it’s okay to go a bit slower, take your time revising, but also, if it’s not perfect or the best that’s okay. Also definitely feels like this is a bit of capitalism affecting art moment, so :’)

#booklr #writing #books #snifferish

179 notes · View notes

ugh-yoongi · 2 years ago

Text

riding fakie | ksj

(or, the one where you think you’re getting a fake boyfriend, but you end up with a whole lot more.)

→ pairing: seokjin x f. reader → genre(s): enemies to lovers (lite), fake dating | humor, fluff, angst → rating: mature → warnings: based entirely on this edit i saw ages ago so good luck, swearing, reader is a trust fund kid with awful parents so classism and screwy family dynamics, a very brief but referenced two-night-stand with taehyung who has a foot fetish (canon) and is ultimately plot irrelevant, this is lite enemies to lovers so sometimes they are not very nice to each other, kissing. i think that’s it? this is mostly tame, all things considered, but i will revise if needed. → word count: 14.2k → written for: the catch of the century collab. thank you to @raplinesmoon / @joheunsaram / & @kithtaehyung for hosting and allowing me to participate! ♡ → thank yous: my holy trinity for keeping me inspired and accountable and letting me know when i don’t word good. @the-boy-meets-evil / @hot-soop / @effortandmore. also my husband who actually skateboards and helped me to sound knowledgeable but will also never, ever see this. → a/n: [looking a whole lot like the dehydrated spongebob meme] hey, long time no see. this fic absolutely kicked my ass like nothing has ever kicked my ass before, but it’s finally done and here. i don’t think i’m super happy with how it turned out and i think it’s probably rushed, but i hope you all enjoy it regardless! now, if you need me i will be sobbing on the floor holding a locket with seokjin’s picture inside.

[THE THREAT]

The thing about privilege is—

Well, nothing. It’s just there, propped up in the corner, looming over every aspect of your life. And usually it’s fine. You want for nothing. People just hand things to you. But, just like the apple tree and Isaac Newton and the Law of Gravity—everything that goes up must come down. Nothing gold can stay. Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. You might have your name and your money and your status, but you also have your parents and your brother.

Your brother, who has somehow found someone to marry him and is planning a wedding.

Your parents, who are threatening to revoke your trust fund if you don’t attend. And bring a date.

“I don’t want to hear it,” your mother says, preemptively cutting off your protests. She’s always had a knack for dictatorship, and another one for doing so as she barks orders to the hired help in the background. “This wedding is very important for us as a family. Do you know how bad it’d look if you not only didn’t show up, but showed up alone? It won’t do.”

On your end of the line, sitting at some bougie outdoor café with an overpriced latte in hand, you roll your eyes. “Wouldn’t it look worse to cut off your only daughter and leave her destitute? God forbid, what if I have to get a job?”

An aggravated click of her tongue. “I don’t know where you got that smart mouth of yours, but it’s unbecoming. I’ve at least managed to talk your brother’s fiancee out of including you in the bridal party, so you could show a bit of gratitude instead of being a brat.”

(Impossible, you think. Your brother had taken all the suck-up genes and left nothing for you. Alternatively, you’d taken all the backbone, so it’s almost even.)

“Why don’t you ask the youngest Jeon boy? They’re coming anyway, and it would look good for your father if the two of you were seen together.”

You grimace. “Jeongguk? Absolutely not.”

Another click. “Fine, but don’t you dare even think about showing up with some—”

“Piece of shit loser,” you finish for her. Usually she’d scold you for swearing, but it’s apparently allowed in the name of shitting on the middle-class. “Yes, Mother, I get it. Don’t worry, I wouldn’t dare sully our good family name by associating with the poor.”

She doesn’t trust you, you can tell by the way she huffs and starts mumbling under her breath, but it’s clear she’s just as done with this conversation as you. “You have three months to figure it out.”

Privilege can go to hell.

[THE SEARCH]

Park Jimin is a lot of things.

He’s got money. He’s got hundreds of thousands of Instagram followers for no reason other than he’s hot. He’s got a closet full of in-season designer clothes, so he’d look stunning hanging off your arm in a tailored suit. He’s got charisma and charm and that innate ability to talk to anyone about all that boring shit you can’t stand.

Most importantly, he’s got a chip on his shoulder, too. He’s on your level.

Park Jimin is telling you no. “Sorry, I’ll be out of the country that weekend,” he says. He doesn’t look sorry. “One of those things I can’t skip. You know how it is.”

Your eyes narrow. “You’re full of shit.”

Park Jimin’s got a laugh that rings like Tiffany crystal. “Maybe.”

Still, you’re not above begging. The list of acceptable arm candy candidates (which you’ve taken to calling The Armcandidates, because you also got all the humor genes) is rapidly dwindling, and although Jimin’s not bottom of the barrel, he’s close. “Jimin, please. Whatever you want, I just need this one favor.”

“Don’t barter with things you’re not willing to give up,” he chides, nothing but heat. Would you fuck Jimin to keep your trust fund? Pillowy lips, slutty little waist, thighs that could crush your head like a grape—you could definitely do worse, all things considered.

“Who says I’m not?”

Jimin would come dead last in a poker tournament, the way surprise flashes across his face. “Well, in that case, I’m actually sorry I’ll be out of the country that weekend.”

You groan, head dropping onto your folded arms. “Can’t believe I outed myself like that and you’re still turning me down.”

Laughter trails behind him as he disappears into his massive closet. “Have you asked Taehyungie? He loves weddings.”

“The last time I talked to Kim Taehyung, he jerked off on my feet and cried. I don’t think I could look him in the eye, let alone invite him to my brother’s wedding.”

Jimin snorts. “He’s actually quite lovely once you get past the foot stuff. Think about it.”

Regretfully, not only do you think about asking Taehyung, you actually go through with it.

One day you’re talking to Jimin and the next thing you know, you’re once again on your back in Kim Taehyung’s bed. No weird feet shit this time, you’d told him, and, well, here you are. Skin tacky from sweat, entire room stinking of sex. Kim Taehyung is weird as hell but he’s unreasonably hot, and you’d made it all of ten minutes in his presence before folding.

(The last time it’d been five, so you’re making progress. Surely that’s something to be proud of.)

“I actually came here for a reason,” you say, still trying to catch your breath. Beside you, Taehyung hums an acknowledgement. You try not to wonder if he’s staring at your toes and that’s why he’s breathing so hard. “I need to bring a date to my brother’s wedding or my parents are gonna cut me off.”

He whistles. “Damn, that’s cold. Fully?”

“That’s what they say.”

“And you’ve decided to ask me? I’m honored, angel.”

“I asked Jimin first, to be fair.”

Taehyung’s face falls comically. “I’m no longer honored,” he jokes. “Jiminie’s great at weddings. He said no?”

You shrug. Something about his rejection still stings. You’re trying not to take it personally. Or think about it too much. “Said he’s going to be out of the country that weekend. Told me to ask you because you quote-unquote ‘love weddings’.”

“He said that?” Taehyung asks, voice pitched higher, dopey look overtaking his features. “Wow, we’re so in sync.” Wistful, like he’s lovesick. “We really must be soulmates.”

You choke. “Sorry, am I interrupting something?”

“Uh, no. Is the wedding the weekend he’s going to Milan?”

That ‘no’ seems to be carrying a lot of weight. You eye him suspiciously. “Apparently.”

“Ah, I’ll be in Paris. I asked him to come with me and he told me no, too. Guess you know how it feels.”

You sit up, sheets clutched to your chest. “Seriously, what’s going on with you two?”

Taehyung heaves a long-suffering sigh. “How much time do you have?”

You roll your eyes. “About three minutes.”

“Next time, then. Sorry I can’t help with the wedding. You’ll find someone, though.”

Another day, another rejection. You tell Taehyung not to look at your feet as you get dressed to leave.

Jung Hoseok isn’t generationally wealthy, but he’s got enough money to be deemed respectable in the eyes of your parents.

He’s also got a 24 karat smile and a meticulously highlighted and underlined study guide for your upcoming exam, so he’s currently ranked number one on your Armcandidates list.

“Hobi, have I ever told you you’re my favorite person?”

He eyes you over the lid of his coffee cup. “A few times, yeah.”

“Jung Hoseok,” you singsong, “actual sunshine, number one human, best thing since sliced bre—”

“If you finish that sentence with some fire of my loins Lolita bullshit I’m leaving.”

You pout. “I need a favor.”

He tosses the study guide in your direction. “Just take it. I have another copy in my bag.”

“Not that,” you say, but you take it anyway. Hoseok’s study guides are a thing of legend: even if you don’t use it, you’ll be able to sell it to some idiot underclassman for a week’s worth of coffee. The bougie kind with whipped cream on top. “I need a date for my brother’s wedding.”

Now it’s his turn to choke. “And you’re asking me?”

“Yeah? What’s wrong with asking you?”

He shrugs, suddenly antsy, like he’s too big for his skin. “I don’t know. Don’t you have, like, actual prospects? Every dude in our cohort wants to date you.”

“Because I’m hot and I have a shitload of money,” you retort, and Hoseok makes a face that says yeah, fair. “I’d rather be tarred and feathered than ask any of them. We’re friends, and I trust you. Additionally, your family’s rich enough to get my parents off my back and we’d look good together.”

“Ah, yes, that last point is very important.”

You scoff. “Of course it is, it’s my brother’s wedding. Do you know how many pictures I’m gonna be forced to take? Hundreds. Possibly thousands.”

“Sounds terrible.”

“It will be, which is why I need a brother-in-arms. A confidante. A comrade.”

“Have you asked Jimin? He’s great at weddings.”

You nearly start shrieking. “Why does everyone keep saying that?”

“...Is that a yes?”

“Of course I asked Jimin. I asked Taehyung, too. They’re both going to be out of the country and are probably fucking, and that’s not particularly something I want to get in the middle of.” Hoseok raises an eyebrow. “It could be serious,” you argue. “Like, Actual Feelings kind of stuff, and that shit gets messy.”

“Yeah, fair,” Hoseok concedes, out loud this time. “Plus Tae has that weird foot thing.”

“Exactly! So you get it.” Finally, a lead! “Will you come, then?” You flutter your eyelashes. “Pretty please, Hobi.”

“When is it?” As you rattle off the date, Hoseok digs through his bag for his phone. Then he pulls up his calendar and frowns. “Shit, no can do, either. My elective rotation starts that prior Monday.”

“Ew. What elective are you taking?”

Hoseok nearly blinds you as he smiles. “Reproductive endo and infertility.”

Your eyes widen. “Holy shit, that one you applied to ages ago? You got it?” He nods. “Oh my god, Hobi, that’s amazing!” You launch across the table to hug him. “I still hate you for bailing, but think of all the tiny raisins you’re gonna help bring into the world!” You wipe away a fake tear. “You’re a god amongst men, Jung Hoseok.”

He takes a bow. “Thank you, thank you. Speaking of which, how’s the volunteer gig in the ER treating you?”

“It’s fine.” You groan, put-upon, and sometimes Hoseok is so smiley and endearing that you feel guilty unloading all of your burdens on him, so you aren’t going to. Not unless he asks. Because he’s prone to dramatics and neuroticism but not like you are, and you know it can be a lot for someone not expecting it.

However—

“That’s good. Is that annoying guy you told me about still bothering you?”

Wrong question.

You cock an eyebrow. “This is the third time this week.”

In front of you, Kim Seokjin just grins, dried blood cracking on his plush lower lip. “Yep.”

“It’s Tuesday,” you deadpan. The grin grows wider, warping the purple-black bruise beneath his eye.

Because he’s arguably the most annoying person on earth, Seokjin just hums an acknowledgement, leaning further against the reception desk. “Well,” he says, voice interlaced with honey, “you’d have to take that up with the Babylonians, since they invented the modern calendar. Not much I can do about that.”

A pause. Then, “You’re really fucking annoying, do you know that?”

“It's a bit rude to insult someone seeking out your services, don’t you think?”

You roll your eyes, pushing your tongue into the fat of your cheek. “Not really. Not if it’s you.”

Surprisingly—or maybe not, considering everything seems to roll off his back—a laugh comes tumbling out of him. “Listen, I know it’s probably overwhelming to be blessed with the sight of this face not once, but three times in a week. I can understand and excuse your insensitivity, so I won’t report you this time, but—”

Ignoring him, you slam a clipboard onto the space between you. “You know the drill.”

“What if I’ve forgotten it?”

“Name, address, insurance information, reason for treatment.”

“You know my name, you know where I live, insurance hasn’t changed, and I’m just here to soak in your sparkling personality.”

With as murderous a stare as you can muster, you push the clipboard further in his direction. It hits something solid. Probably a rib, judging by Seokjin’s pained wheeze, but you don’t get paid enough to care. “Do you need a pen?”

“Why, so you can stab me with it?”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

He rolls his eyes. Thumbs through the intake forms and pretends to read them, even though the last time he had to sign one he’d just drawn a stick figure giving you the finger. “Have you ever spoken to anyone about your sociopathic tendencies? Might do you some good.”

With prolonged eye contact, you toss a pen in his direction. Hits him square between the eyes. “A million times,” you deadpan. This is where you’d blow a bubble and pop it if you were allowed to chew gum on the clock. “I’ve been diagnosed with an incurable case of bitchitis. It’s a very tragic burden to bear. Fill out the form.”

Seokjin huffs. Stays standing right in front of you as he does as you say, ignoring the line of people behind him that’s rapidly stacking up. Someone towards the back yells at him to get out of the way, but the protest dies immediately once he turns around and smiles. You think an elderly woman faints. She definitely bobbles, at the very least.

“Thanks so much for your help,” Seokjin says, handing the forms back with a mischievous smirk playing on his lips. They’re free of doodled middle fingers, so you wave him off. “Have a great day,” he lobs over his shoulder. When you look down, he’s giving you the finger at waist-height.

“Have the day you deserve,” you fire back.

Your skin needles with anxiety for the rest of the day.

Seokjin comes into the emergency room again on Friday.

He’s got a large gash just above his eyebrow that’s gonna need stitches. You tell him as much as he fills out the same forms as the day before, and he tells you to tell him something he doesn’t know as he rolls his eyes and winces immediately.

“Here’s something you don’t seem to know: karma is real, and she also thinks you’re an asshole.”

You get the finger again for that one. Honestly, you can’t say you don’t deserve it.

“Kiss my ass.”

You pretend to pout. “Health hazard. Against hospital policy.”

Seokjin pauses. Seems to study you for a while, and then he’s cocking an eyebrow and asking, “What do you actually do here, anyway? Besides be a giant bitch.”

Wordlessly, you point at your name tag. There, right beneath your first and last name, lies the answer to Seokjin’s question. He squints. Winces again. “You’re a med student?”

Again, you point at your name tag.

“That means I can write a complaint.”

“Go ahead,” you retort. “My mother’s on the board of directors, and luckily for you she already knows I’m a giant bitch.”

Seokjin snorts, jaw dropping slightly. Just enough to draw attention to his mouth, which you’ve seen a hundred times for a hundred different injuries, but it looks especially sinful today. Maybe it’s just because he’s being mean to you, which is something you might need to explore with Taehyung in exchange for pictures of your feet.

“Ah, I should’ve known. You’ve got overwhelming nepo kid energy. Probably never had to work for anything a day in your life, huh? Probably a legacy to whatever shit-tier medical school was bribed into accepting you, too.”

Until now, you’d thought your banter with Seokjin was relatively harmless. Barbed, sure, and definitely effective. You’d throttle Seokjin if given the chance, and you know he’d do the same. But it’s never been outright cruel.

You try to look unfazed. Try to look like you don’t care about Seokjin and his words at all, because they’re nothing you haven’t heard before. Not like you’d asked to be born to your parents, so shit like this usually rolled off your back.

Now, though—

Your face must fall, just a little, because Seokjin immediately looks remorseful. Moves to say something, but you’re retrieving his clipboard and intake paperwork before he can stutter out an apology. “Thanks. They’ll call you back shortly.”

“Hey, I—“

“You can take a seat over there,” you interject, eyes locked on your computer screen. If you tear up, you can just blame it on eye strain.

You don’t see Seokjin for another two weeks.

And that’s… fine. His absence has given you some time to digest, some time to mull things over, decide if you’re actually upset or if you’d gone temporarily insane. It’d taken ten days, but you came to the conclusion that it’d just been a fleeting moment of sensitivity. People are mean to you all the time in the ER; if you took each insult or attack on your character to heart, you’d be in for a world of hurt.

So, yeah. You’d had a rough day and Seokjin saying you were a good-for-nothing nepot stung a little. That’s it.

Because you’ve got more pressing matters to attend to. You’ve managed to piss away an entire month without securing a date to the wedding, and now you’ve got time breathing down your neck. Two months, your mother’s shrill voice shrieks in your head, and it devolves into weeks and days and hours the longer you let yourself spiral. It’d seemed like so long before: you’d been so certain you’d have a date by the end of day one, and then the universe had to go and humble you. Cruel.

But the universe is also fair, because one day it’s been two weeks since you’ve seen Seokjin, and the next it’s a painfully slow Thursday afternoon and he strolls in with splinted fingers and a sheepish, weary expression.

“Uh, hi.”

You look up from your computer, taking in all the bruises and scars that dot his face but take nothing away from the beauty of it. “Sorry, exorcism hours ended at noon.”

Seokjin swallows, nostrils flaring. He looks like he wants to argue, just because he’s him and you’re you, but he acquiesces with a little nod. “Fair. I deserved that.”

“Here for the usual?” you ask, tone dry and neutral. When Seokjin doesn’t answer, you grab a clipboard and start your usual spiel—name, address, insurance information, reason for treatment—and then there’s a choked-off sound, not unlike a cat dying.

He looks pained when you dare a glance. Face contorted into a grimace, just like all the parents who bring in their constipated babies. “No, no,” he says. Sucks in a deep breath, and you nearly roll your eyes in exasperation. This guy’s acting like he’s about to give a speech at the goddamn United Nations. “I’m here to… apologize?”

You blink. “Are you asking me or telling me?”

“Telling you?” A pause. “Yeah, definitely telling you.”

“Okay.” Another pause. Seokjin fidgets, shifts his weight from one leg to the other, wipes probably-sweaty palms on his jeans, picks up every pen in the cup and drops it back in. “Well, the floor is yours.” More silence. His face seems to shift into reluctant acceptance. “Any day now.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Okay.”

“I was having a bad day and I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Okay.”

“I still think you’re really mean—”

“Sure, that’s fair.”

“—but I’d like to make it up to you. I think.”

“You sure are thinking a lot. Wanna give those brain cells a break?”

“Fuck you,” he replies automatically. “Here I am, trying to be nice—”

An idea strikes you then. Parts the hazy recesses of your mind like the Red Sea, and it feels like you’ve been struck by lightning. “How were you planning on making it up to me?”

Because he’s not wholly an idiot, Seokjin sends you a pointed look. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

You’re sure your smile looks straight out of a Creepypasta, but there’s an opportunity here, and you’d be a fool to let it slip through your fingers. “Because I just so happen to need a favor, and here you are, ready to dish one out.”

“I never said it was a favor.”

You pout. “But Seokjin,” you whine, “you were so mean.”

One of his eyes twitches. “Why does this feel like a crossroads deal?”

“I think the Grinch felt similar. Right before his heart grew three sizes and he saved Christmas.”

He doesn’t respond right away, and you can almost see the scales tipping in his brain, weighing whether or not it’s a good idea to entertain you at all. Which is impressive, all things considered, because he doesn’t even know what you’ll ask for yet. He could be expecting something humiliating at his expense, or a monetary bribe—you’re pretty certain asking for a date will catch him fully off-guard.

“What do you want?”

“Oh, nothing big,” you reply easily. Twirl your hair around your finger. Bat your eyelashes. “Just a little date.”

Seokjin sputters. “A what.”

“A date,” you repeat. “I just so happen to need a date to my brother’s wedding, and you just so happen to be overcome with guilt. It’s a win-win.”

“We don’t even like each other!”

You click your tongue. “Even better, because I don’t like my brother, either!”

“So this is… what? A game? Some kind of petty revenge? Bring the guy who looks like me to your brother’s wedding to rebel against your parents?”

“Yes, absolutely,” you answer, not even bothering to sugarcoat it. Seokjin doesn’t seem convinced. You sigh. “Look, you can say no. Or I can throw in something extra if it feels unfair—”

“Like what?”

You shrug. “I don’t know, I haven’t had time to prepare a fucking offer sheet, Seokjin. What do you want?”

“Depends. What’s this all entail? Is it a one-time thing or do I have to pretend to be your boyfriend?”

You choke. “My boyf—” But then it hits you: your brother will hate this. Your parents will hate it even more. Without even needing to ask, it’s clear Seokjin isn’t from your world, and if they’re ready to disinherit you for showing up to your brother’s wedding alone, might as well commit to the bit. So you clear your throat and smile again. “And if I say yes?”

“It’ll cost more,” Seokjin deadpans.

You nod, feeling a little like you’re swindling this poor man. “Add it to my tab, boyfriend.”

[THE MEETING]

Finding a date was supposed to be the hard part. Turns out, it’s only the beginning.

Your parents are thrilled and a little stunned when you tell them you’ve secured a plus-one. (So is your brother, but you have better luck with him listening when you tell him to fuck off. It’s a little hard to say the same to your mother and father when they’re dangling a trust fund in front of you like a carrot.) And, in true upper echelon form, they grill you. For hours. Family name, family business, how you met, what their intentions are, blah blah blah. You feel a migraine coming on somewhere around question two.

Eventually, your mother says, “I don’t know about this,” and your father grunts in agreement. You don’t think he’s used full words in years. Not with you.

“What’s there to know?” you whine, nearly rolling your eyes. “I’m not marrying the guy. It’s just a date.”

Your mother flutters around the kitchen, pointedly not looking at you. It’s weird seeing her like this: almost like a real mother, almost like she’s going to say something comforting and serve you a plate of freshly-baked cookies instead of huffing and puffing at everything you say and treating you like a pariah. “Do you even know this young man?”

“Of course I know him.”

“Do I need to remind you that it’s bad etiquette to bring a first date to a wedding?”

There’s a pang of annoyance that you have to tamper down. “It’s not a first date.”

“Oh? You’ve been seeing him regularly?”

This time you do roll your eyes. “Sure, Mom.”

“Don’t roll your eyes at your mother,” your father says, not bothering to lower the newspaper in front of him.

“How did you—”

“Is this young man your boyfriend?”

You think about what Seokjin had said: It’ll cost more. Not, you couldn’t pay me eight billion dollars to pretend to date you. Not, no thanks I’d rather die. Just, it’ll cost more. So, as you sit in this opulent kitchen with your parents and some ungodly amount of Italian marble, you think there’s nothing you wouldn’t pay to make these people miserable. These people, who never saw you beyond a status symbol. That traditional nuclear family tucked behind the white picket fence. Two kids. Golden retriever. Pool boy. Family vacations to five-star resorts, only your parents smiling in the pictures before they abandoned you and your brother with the nanny.

So, no, Seokjin isn’t your boyfriend. Not really. But he’s willing to play the part and that’s good enough. “Yeah,” you answer, and one simple word stops your mother in her tracks and gets your father to finally abandon his stupid newspaper, and just this little bit of power feels nice.

“Oh,” comes your mother’s reply. She shares a look with your father.

Because the patriarchy is alive and well and he loves to play the arbiter, he says, “I think we should meet him.”

And, because you’re not an idiot, you say, “Don’t forget the rule was that I had to find a date, not that you had to approve them.”

With a huff, your father disappears again behind his newspaper.

You: i need another favor

Rapid Onset Migraine: how much

You: shouldn’t my boyfriend want to do nice things for me out of the kindness of his own heart

Rapid Onset Migraine: no

(“Shouldn’t you have him saved under his actual name? Maybe a little heart emoji?” Hoseok asks, looking over your shoulder. “Unless he has a degradation kink, I don’t think anyone’s going to buy that someone named Rapid Onset Migraine is actually your boyfriend.”

“Shut up, Hobi. It’s one of those things that are violently affectionate and ironically cute.” A pause. Then—“Do you think Thunderclap Headache is better?”

“No. No, I definitely do not.”)

You: you don’t even know what the favor is

Rapid Onset Migraine: don’t care

You: fine

You: i would like to formally demand your presence at dinner with my parents this thursday at 7

Rapid Onset Migraine: i’m busy

You: i will literally venmo you rn to cancel your plans

Rapid Onset Migraine: i’m suddenly free. @jin-k92

Rapid Onset Migraine: five hundred dollars please

You: fuck off

You: $50. final offer. take it or leave it

Rapid Onset Migraine: leave it

You: sent. see you thursday!

It’s Tuesday night and you’re fresh off your shift, headed to your car, looking forward to doing nothing but absorbing into your couch and maybe using that new bath bomb, when someone on a skateboard crashes into you.

You’re on your ass before you can process, stunned, staring up at the fluorescent lights of the parking lot. A familiar face enters your line of sight, not looking all that apologetic. “Whoops.”

You groan. “Worst boyfriend ever,” you retort, sticking your hand in the air. “At least help me up.”

There’s absolutely no grace in the way Seokjin hauls you to your feet. Doesn’t bother to steady you when you bobble, either, and you have half a mind to give him the finger. Instead, you say, “Are you stalking me?” and delight in the split-second of panic that overtakes his features.

“No,” he eventually says, expression right back to neutral. “You’ve already agreed to date me. Why would I need to stalk you?”

“There’s at least seventeen different problems with that statement and I’m not going to touch any of them.” You take a second to look him over: no obvious injuries, still obnoxiously attractive. Hair a little longer than usual, rogue strands hanging loose and framing his face. No one should be allowed to look like this. He really, really gets on your nerves. “Why are you here, though? You look fine.”

“I am fine—”

“Uninjured,” you clarify, which earns you a scoff.

“I’m that, too,” he snarks, “but I came to find you to figure out the game plan.”

“Why didn’t you just text me?”

“I was already in the area,” he lies.

“Uh-huh.”

“And I thought I could con you into buying me dinner.”

“What’d you do with the fifty bucks I sent you the other day?”

Seokjin looks at you like you’re dumb. You’re really starting to wonder if you are. “I spent it.”

“On what?”

“Are you my accountant now?” he huffs.

“No, but you’re not my sugar baby, either. Buy your own dinner.”

He bats his lashes at you. “But honey…”

“Fuck off, Seokjin,” you say, stomping towards your car. Unsurprisingly, he’s right behind you, the wheels of his skateboard noisy as they glide along the concrete. “This is why you’re always needing stitches?” you ask, knowing he’s close enough to hear.

“Yep.” A louder noise; probably some kind of trick. You’re not going to dignify him by watching and being impressed.

During your second semester of college, Hoseok had gotten you into this horrible habit of parking far away. So you get your steps in, had been his reasoning, and it’s hard to say whether you’d given in to the 10,000 steps per day hysteria or just Hoseok’s convincing, evil little smile, but you still do it. And you’re really regretting it now, when you have to traipse through a half-mile of parking lot with the world’s most annoying person on your heels.

“Are you gonna take me to dinner, though?”

That’s how you wind up sitting across from him at a diner.

His cheeseburger is demolished in record time. Fries are halfway gone, too, by the time he asks what the plan is and seems genuinely shocked when you say there isn’t one.

“What do you mean there’s no plan?”

“There’s no plan,” you repeat, dipping your own fry into his ketchup just so he has to swat your hand away. “I mean, dinner is at seven, but that’s it.”

Seokjin looks confused, like you’ve tilted his world on its axis. “There’s gotta be a plan,” he argues. “There’s always a plan with you trust fund kids.”

Another dig, and you can tell by the way he avoids your gaze once he makes it. “There’s really no plan,” you say, ignoring the quip. There’s a reason you’ve got a fake boyfriend, and it’s not because your parents are benevolent and easy-going. “I don’t care what you tell my parents.”

“Now I know for sure you’re setting me up.”

You shrug. “Believe whatever you want.”

Seokjin studies you, clearly still unconvinced. “You’re telling me,” he begins, sticking the straw of his root beer float in his mouth, “that I can just walk in there and sabotage you? That I have carte blanche? That I can tell them you literally paid me to be there?” You shrug. There’s a disgusting slurping sound. You grimace.

“Well, I’m hoping you won’t, but I certainly can’t stop you.”

“You’re terrible at fake dating.”

A sigh escapes you before you can stop it. You don’t want to delve into twenty-plus years of parental trauma, especially not with this guy, but sometimes it can’t be helped. “Look, I don’t want to go to my brother’s wedding. I don’t like him, and I don’t like my parents. No one else wanted to fake date me”—you hold up your hand to kill the obvious comment before he makes it—“and, honestly, my parents are gonna hate you and that’s the entire reason I asked for your help. So, no, I don’t care what you tell them, because I don’t care if they approve. I’m sick of them making me jump through hoops just to be their kid.”

Unfazed, Seokjin breezily replies, “You obviously care enough to keep taking their money.”

“I consider my trust fund to be reparations.”

“That why you were so touchy about that nepotism comment?”

Nodding, you fidget with the hem of your scrub top, hands suddenly sweaty. “Well, it doesn’t feel great to have my accomplishments credited to my last name or whatever, but it’s not something I can stop anyone from assuming.”

“Are they?”

“It’d be naive to think they aren’t.”

“You got into med school, though,” Seokjin says, and you tamper down the flush that’s creeping in. You are not going to care about any man’s acknowledgement. “That’s not an easy thing to do.”

“Can you tell my parents that?”

A laugh bellows out of him, and you’re horrified to learn it’s a terrible sound. Everyone in the diner turns to stare, and you’re flushed crimson and trying to duck under the table.

Still, you can’t help but smile. Your parents really are going to have a stroke.

To your delight, Seokjin is good at getting people to hate him. Like, really good—almost scarily so.

He’d shown up twenty minutes late, having ignored the dress code entirely, clad in a pair of ripped black jeans and a plain black t-shirt, arm tattoos and innumerable scars proudly on display. He hadn’t bothered to shake your father’s hand or introduce himself to your mother, just fell into the seat next to you, stage-whispered a, this place is a shithole huh, and stuck his nose in a menu. When the waiter came by, he ordered a bottle of wine older than the two of you combined and the most expensive entree on the menu.

Now, an hour in, your parents are teetering on the edge of a major cardiac event.

“So, Seokjin,” your father says, voice gritty and forced, “what do you do?”

Seokjin shoves a large piece of meat in his mouth, making sure to smack his lips. “What d’you mean?” he asks, the question garbled around the food.

“For a living.”

Scarily good, you think. Seokjin pretends to choke, pretends to look shocked and appalled. “I don’t work,” he answers, tone bang-on to the one your parents use when they’re being condescending. “My parents give me money, and I figured I’d date this one”—he flicks you in the temple—“until she becomes a doctor and can support me. Then we’ll get married.”

Your mother gasps. Your smile is involuntary.

Your father, on the other hand, knocks over his wine glass. Spills it all over the table, goes red in the face, and it’s the most distressed you’ve ever seen him, usually composed to a fault, immovable. “You’ll do no such thi—”

Seokjin fakes a yawn. “You ready, babe?” He doesn’t bother waiting for a response, just stands, tosses his napkin on the table, and grabs your hand. The two of you are out of the restaurant before either of your parents can utter a word.

Feels like one of those movie moments, you think: the cool breeze in your hair, against your flushed cheeks, your hand in Seokjin’s, both of you not daring to breathe or make a sound until you’re safe outside, away from your parents and their gobsmacked expressions. And then you crack, just enough for laughter to spill out, and Seokjin snorts, another horrible sound, and before you know it, the two of you are collapsed against the side of the restaurant, tears in your eyes as the brick scrapes against your skin.

Maybe something shifts. Maybe the smile Seokjin sends you is genuine.

[THE RELATIONSHIP]

Much to your horror, fake relationships aren’t all that different from normal, authentic ones.

Which means two things: one, that your brother and his wife-to-be both received an earful from your parents about Seokjin and The Dinner, and two, you still have to compromise.

The first one wasn’t so bad. Your brother had called you and issued a vague threat, of course, because he’s never had a sense of humor about anything, but you hadn’t answered so it’d been easy to delete the voicemail and forget about it. And, luckily for him, your future sister-in-law was far more lax. Bring him, she’d texted. He sounds like a good time.

You’re not sure you’d describe Kim Seokjin as a good time, but you replied with a thumbs-up emoji regardless.

All of that had been fine. You’re well-versed in dealing with your family by now, so it’s easy to let their bullshit wash over you and down the drain like rainwater.

No, it’s the fake but has to look at least semi-real relationship that’s proving to be difficult.

Because you don’t like to compromise. You want to do what you want to do when you want to do it, and you don’t want to hear about it from anyone. But here you are, doing a quasi-photoshoot with Seokjin so he can “soft launch” you on his Instagram—which, honestly, is a little daunting. He has a lot of followers. Not surprising, considering the way he looks, but the thought of being perceived by hundreds of thousands of strangers makes you feel like you’re wearing your skin inside-out.

“Can you try looking less constipated?” he asks, tone dry as toast as he scrolls through the series of selfies the two of you just took.

You scoff. “First of all, I don’t look constipated.” Really, you don’t. “Second of all, why do you even need to do this? We only have to convince my parents, and you pissed them off so bad I’m not sure they’ll ever ask me to bring a date to anything ever again.”

“Because I have a competition next weekend that you’ll have to go to, and I don’t want anyone asking any questions.”

“What if I’m busy?”

“You’re not,” Seokjin retorts, all conviction. “If I had to clear my schedule for that dinner, you’re free for this.”

“What if I have a school thing?”

Seokjin raises an eyebrow. He’s looking at you, and you’re looking at him through his phone camera. It’s really not fair, the way his face is. “Do you?”

“No, but what if?”

He takes another picture and cackles, gleefully showing it to you. “See? You definitely look constipated.”

With a glare, you wrestle the phone out of his hand and aim it the way you want—the way you know looks good. And maybe you do a little pout, too; do that thing with your eyes that looks seductive and a little dirty. Not because you care about what Seokjin’s followers think, because you’re hot and you know it, but because you want him to suffer. Just a little bit. It’s illogical, the way you want him to look at this picture and feel… something. Half pride, half longing.

So, you angle and pout. Delight in the caught-out expression on Seokjin’s face this time, like it’s the first time he’s learning that you’re hot and that it troubles him a little. “Is that better?” you ask, sugar-sweet.

Seokjin doesn’t respond, just posts the picture to his Instagram story.

Skateboarding has never been your thing.

Your brother had gone through a phase, once. Spent all his allowance on the video games and collected CCS catalogs, spending imaginary money as he’d thumb through the pages and circle everything he wanted. Never bought a real board, though—just developed a superiority complex because he listened to the Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater 2 soundtrack one too many times and thought it was a legitimate substitute for actual pre-teen rebellion.

However, fake-dating Seokjin means you’re getting a crash course.

“What do these do?” you ask, holding up a set of wheels. There’s an alien holding a bong on them. They make you laugh.

Seokjin eyes you from across the shop and pointedly ignores your question. Instead, the disgruntled guy behind the register answers. “They’re wheels,” he says, tone clipped, which you answer with a surprised noise, like you’ve discovered something new.

“Wow, wheels,” you intone. “Cool.”

Done picking out new grip tape, or whatever the hell he’d said, Seokjin plucks the wheels from your hand and puts them back where you’d gotten them. “Fascinating invention, huh?”

The man behind the register smells like weed. Reeks of it, actually, and the stench is almost overbearing as you sidle up next to Seokjin at the counter. Yoongi, his name tag reads. You don’t think he looks like a Yoongi, because it kind of lends itself to a stoner character, but it also sounds kind of sweet, and the man in front of you looks like he could snap you like a twig and enjoy it.

Then—“Oh, you’re Instagram girl.”

You scowl. “I’m who.”

First, you’re reduced to nepotism and your family name; now it’s Instagram. There’s a huff halfway out of your mouth when Seokjin wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you against his side. You think he’d press a kiss to your temple if this was real. “My beautiful girlfriend,” he says, playfully hip-checking you.

Yoongi looks between the two of you, then pushes the tape back in Seokjin’s direction. “You know you don’t have to pay for this shit, man.”

“Sure, but I can. I have a rich girlfriend now.”

He yelps when you step on his foot with the heel of your boot. “Aren’t you so lucky,” you grit out.

You don’t see the way his gaze softens, but Yoongi sure does.

Anticipation crackles in the air.

Feels like the day you’d sat for the MCAT—that brand of nervous, determined focus, bordering on excitement. Something that will really only go one of two ways with a million variables, and it’s a small relief to not be the one in the hot seat.

Hoseok had been there last time. Now, a man that’s seemingly all limbs plops down beside you, ungraceful and awkward.

“You’re Instagram girl,” he says, before sticking his hand out. “Hi, I’m Namjoon.”

Seems like Seokjin’s idea of a soft launch is anything but. Briefly, you wonder how many more people are going to forego your identity entirely in the name of Instagram, but it’s kind of nice, too—nice to be someone other than your parents’ daughter, your brother’s sister, your family name. There’s a long way to go before the patriarchy is smashed entirely, because it’s not so nice to be newly reduced to Seokjin’s girlfriend, but baby steps.

For now, it’s all right.

For now, there are far worse things you could be.

“Hi, Namjoon,” you finally reply, because he seems out of place and nice enough—nicer than Yoongi, at least. Definitely far less gruff and abrasive.

He chokes a little, like he’s surprised you responded to him. Not for the first time, it’s just sort of par for the course when you are who you are. “Oh, sorry,” he says, cheeks flushing under the guise of the relentless afternoon sun. “I just—recognized you? And couldn’t help myself? Which probably sounds really creepy, which was not my intent, it’s just—Jin doesn’t bring anyone to these things. Like, ever. So it was a little shocking! Kind of like meeting a celebrity? Even though I’ve never really done that, either. Oh! I met Greta Thunberg once. That was cool. It was, like, on accident, though? So…”

On and on he goes, bless him, because he just talks endlessly without expecting a response. You look around: the bleachers are starting to fill up, awestruck kids with humored parents, and you wonder what that’s like. To have an interest in something and have it nurtured, instead of having to live up to expectations you never wanted. Maybe you would’ve been a skateboarder, too. Maybe you would’ve shucked all those societal norms and did something you wanted, even though it doesn’t really matter now.

“Hey,” you say, stopping Namjoon’s latest spiel in its tracks, “do you come to these things often?”

Namjoon lights up like Christmas. People must not ask him about himself much. “Yeah! Well, sometimes? I’m in grad school, so I come when I have time. I thought it’d be a good idea to get two master’s degrees, so I finished my first one—in philosophy, before you ask, which was pretty stupid, because what am I gonna do with that, you know? But I guess it worked, because I had a full-blown existential crisis and decided to get a second one to put off the inevitable second existential crisis over what I was going to do with my life—”

“What was that one in?”

Namjoon startles again, and it’s almost hopelessly endearing. “Huh? Oh, Botany and Plant Pathology.”

You blink. “Plant pathology?”

“Yeah! It’s really interesting, because everything’s connected, right? Like, you can’t really fight climate change and food insecurity if you have all these diseased crops and forests, and I leaned pretty heavily into biological philosophy for my first degree, especially environmental ethics and conservation—”

“...And you come to skateboarding competitions for fun?”

His ears turn red; his cheeks and neck follow shortly thereafter. “I like physics, and skateboarding has a lot of physics.”

Just your luck. “Can you explain to me what’s going on, then?”

Namjoon does as you ask, and takes his job very seriously. He explains the rules and the implications, the rankings and what they mean for the future, who’s who and the major players. He explains tricks as they happen—how they got their names, who did them first, notable events. You remember your brother screaming at the TV the night Tony Hawk landed the 900 at the X Games, and Namjoon’s smile is so bright when you tell him about it.

“Yeah, that’s—that was so fucking cool, man. You know he was 31 when he did that? I think about that sometimes. There’s all this emphasis on aging, this juvenile notion that life peaks in your twenties, that you need to have it all figured out before you’re thirty: the job, the marriage, the house with the white picket fence, and it’s bullshit. I know it’s bullshit, but sometimes I feel like I haven’t accomplished anything at my age, and I just think: Tony Hawk landed the first 900 when he was 31 years old, and now 10 year olds are doing it. That’s fucking dope.”

He’s off on another tangent almost immediately, telling you about how he’d met Seokjin and how they became friends. You hear none of it. Seokjin comes in second place. You don’t remember much of the celebration, either.

You can’t shake the feeling that you’ve been dunked in ice-cold water. Feels a bit like drowning.

You’re good at compartmentalizing.

You have to be, growing up in the family you did. Because Namjoon’s words had rattled you, sure, but you can’t linger on them. Lectures still need to be attended, hospital shifts still need to be worked, and it’d really hurt Hoseok’s feelings if you bailed on your study sessions, so you have to tuck away all those wayward thoughts for later.

Not until you’re alone, tucked into bed far too early for someone in their mid-20s, do you think about it.

Well, it’s less ‘thinking’ and more ‘ah, these are the existential crises Namjoon was talking about.’ Certainly not your first crisis, and it won’t be your last, but it’s still… unnerving. Being a doctor was something you’d always been rock-solid about. You hadn’t wanted to go into business like your father and brother, had no interest in kissing ass in the political sphere and wielding influence like your mother, but you’d been told all your life you had to do something. Something important, something impressive, something worth bragging about—because what were you worth if your parents couldn’t talk endlessly at fundraisers about how much better you were than everyone else?

You glance at the clock: almost two a.m. There’s only one person that’ll be awake at this hour, even though you shouldn’t. Seokjin has one job, and it isn’t talking you off the proverbial ledge in the middle of the night. Still—

You: you up?

Rapid Onset Migraine: this is happening a little fast don’t you think?

You: ??? huh

You: wait no

You: that’s NOT what i meant

Rapid Onset Migraine: yeah sure

Rapid Onset Migraine: well obviously i’m awake

Rapid Onset Migraine: you ok?

You: yeah, i’m sorry to bother you about this

You: i think i’m just having a bad time?

That’s that, you think, because minutes pass without a response. But then your phone’s vibrating, lighting up in your hand. Rapid Onset Migraine flashes across the screen, his contact photo set to a meme of Handsome Squidward just because you’d thought it was funny.

“Hello?”

“Sorry,” he says immediately, “I needed to make a pot of coffee before I had this conversation.”

You hum. The comment doesn’t sting. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you drink coffee.”

“I don’t,” Seokjin answers. “Well, not usually. Only if I have an early flight or something.”

“Or need to talk through your fake girlfriend’s two a.m. existential crisis?”

“Yeah.” Seokjin laughs, and it’s almost enough of a balm. “But I’m friends with Namjoon, so I’m an expert in those by now. I keep weird hours, anyway, you know? I’m either skating or gaming, so he used to call me at, like, four in the morning because he’d read too much Kierkegaard or Beauvoir and was spiraling.” You hear him take a sip of coffee. He starts sputtering immediately. “Shit, that’s hot. Fuck, I think I burnt my tongue off.”

“Luckily you know a doctor.”

“I do,” he says, and his tone is warm. Almost proud? “Anyway, what’s going on? You read Being and Nothingness, too, or what?”

For a moment, you’re just quiet, trying to think of the words to say. You’re well aware of your privilege, make a conscious effort to not throw it around the way others might, so there’s a lot of guilt that comes with something like this. You know what people probably think: poor little rich girl, with her family money and their connections, it must be so hard to be her. It’s not, and you’re fine, but—

“Did you always want to skate professionally?” you ask, because you figure it’s safe. Doesn’t give it all away, even though Seokjin’s smart enough to read between the lines.

And, to your surprise, he plays along. Doesn’t call you out or press on the bruise, just says, “Hm, no, not really.”

“No?” you repeat, incredulous. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” he confirms. “This is really embarrassing, but I wanted to get into software engineering or coding. Whatever would let me make video games.”

“Why would that be embarrassing?”

“Because it’s me?” Seokjin forces a laugh, pure self-deprecation. “That’s the kind of stuff people like Namjoon do. And that’s—it’s fine. I’m good at skateboarding and I get paid to do it. That’s the kind of thing kids dream about, right? Getting paid to travel around and skateboard all day?” He sighs, and it’s broken in a way that’s unsettling and familiar. A sound that could be coming from your own lips. “Don’t get me wrong, I love it and I’m thankful I get to do this as a job, it’s just not what I thought I’d be doing with my life.”

A brief silence, and then Seokjin’s talking again before you can reply, which you’re glad for. Everything feels off-center. “Is that what’s going on? School stress?”

“Maybe,” you admit, still a little breathless. “I’m just… struggling? I think? With knowing what’s actual desire and what’s just expectation.”

“Ah, I see. I don’t think I can really help with that beyond empathizing, but I’m sorry you’re going through it.” Then, like he’s telling you a secret, “If it helps at all, I think it takes a lot of courage to do this kind of introspection. It’s not easy, especially when you’re likely to find things you don’t want to.”

You can’t help but snort, but it’s gentle. Quiet, though still loud in the stillness of your bedroom. “Thanks,” you eventually reply. “Surprisingly comforting.”

“Yah, I’ll have you know I’m a very comforting person!”

“Of course you are.”

“Besides,” he says, and his tone takes on such conviction you’re sure you’ll believe whatever comes out of his mouth next with no hesitation, “it’s fine if you decide this isn’t what you wanna do. It’s never too late, or whatever, but for what it’s worth, I think you’re going to be a great doctor.”

“Or whatever,” you echo, smile creeping up on you. “That makes it sound so easy.”

“I guess it is.”

What’s it like to live like that, you wonder. Completely devoid of expectations, just going with the flow, doing what you want without crippling fear of the consequences. Must be nice, is your conclusion. Life doesn’t work like that for you, and you’ve had plenty of time to come to terms with that, so it’s fine. You’re on a path and maybe it’s not what you would’ve chosen had you had time to look at all the possibilities, but you’re on a path and it’s yours.

You want to say this to Seokjin. You want to thank him, both for the pep talk and the unfounded confidence, but your eyelids feel heavy and he’s just babbling now, something about the first time he landed a tre flip, and it’s soothing. Comforting.

Sleep takes you before you can think about it too hard—think about how Seokjin used to be nothing but a menace, the worst part of your day, and now he’s not.

You’re on another night shift, third in a row, and you’re the kind of exhausted that has you smelling colors.

Nothing makes sense. Your bones hurt. When you think about going home and finally going to bed it feels like when you’re starving and wait too long to eat and don’t feel hungry anymore. Then you finally do and it’s not satisfying, kind of makes your stomach hurt, and the cycle repeats.

Seokjin texts you to check in. After your two a.m. convo, you’re hyperaware of how much time you spend venting, so you assure him you’re fine. He drops off a coffee and some snacks, anyway. Just because he’s already up.

—

There are other hangouts. You don’t call them dates, because that word has implications and meaning and this is fake, but you have them nonetheless.

Overindulgent takeaway, equally expensive alcohol that has sat unopened in your apartment for far too long, shitty movies playing in the background, and Seokjin’s inability to stop talking. He sneakily lobs popcorn at you when he thinks you aren’t looking. This prompts an all-out war, and you both have tears streaming down your faces by the time Seokjin calls a truce.

Just days later, you spread out a gingham blanket in the park. Seokjin makes up bullshit constellations, gives them horrific names and backstories, and revels in the sound of your infectious laughter. When your head feels too heavy to hold up, you lay back in the grass and try to keep your heart in your chest when Seokjin does the same, slender fingers searching out yours in the dark.

You want so badly to kiss him. Want to crash your mouths together and kiss him breathless, but you don’t.

On your third hangout, you cover each other in silly temporary tattoos and take too many selfies. Seokjin snorts at how dumb he looks in the filters and asks you to send him some, immediately setting a particularly couple-y shot as your contact photo.

And if you get butterflies when he posts one to his Instagram story? Well, that’s your business.

—

Seokjin gets the dumb idea that he’s going to teach you to skate.

Which is not only dumb because it’s impossible, but because you’re sure your skeletal system is probably insured for millions of dollars, knowing your parents. You can’t do any of your clinical rotations with broken bones—instant dismissal—and Seokjin knows this, but he’s annoyingly persistent and assures you you’ll be fine, so you relent because you trust him, despite all odds.

Physically, you are fine. Seokjin holds onto your waist and doesn’t let you fall, which is about all you can ask for when it comes to unwanted skateboarding lessons. Emotionally, though? Not so much. You’ve been close to Seokjin before. Enough to feel his body heat; enough to get goosebumps; enough to nearly become delirious with your want to taste him.

Normally that’s fine. But now, as he uses one hand to hold your waist and the other to hold your own hand, you can’t think of a single logical explanation for depriving yourself of more of this. Because he’s steady and warm, and sometimes you teeter and he grips tighter, causing your mind to wander and think about things it shouldn’t. You’re only human, and Seokjin is an otherworldly brand of handsome, so you don’t beat yourself up over it.

Still. It ignites something, that’s for sure, and if it’s anything like Seokjin himself, it won’t be easy to extinguish.

—

It’s by complete accident that you meet Jeongguk.

Well, that’s not entirely accurate. You’ve met him before, at some bougie function your parents dragged you to, but it was brief and forced and awkward. Jeongguk was weird back then. Still is, probably, judging from his entire… presence, now.

He’s dangling upside down from a tree branch when you meet him for the second time.

“Oh. Jeongguk. Hi?”

“Hi!” he says, smile brighter than the sun, and before you can ask him why he’s upside down in a tree there’s a massive camera in front of his face. “Are you here to see Jin?”

Here is a public sidewalk, but you don’t say that. Instead, you say, “I’m on my way home. Why are you in a tree?”

His response is nonverbal, just a finger point dead ahead of you. Some Brutalist architecture leftover from the ‘50s—a large set of stairs, public fountain, weird art sculpture, a small crowd. Doesn’t take long to learn what they’re there for: Seokjin grinds down the rail, lands perfectly, nearly skates into the street and gets whacked by a car. Everyone cheers.

Ah, that explains the camera, too. You vaguely recall your mother telling you the youngest Jeon went to school for filmmaking. She hadn’t sounded impressed. You wonder what she’d think if she knew he was your delinquent, skateboarder, fake boyfriend’s videographer. Probably something aneurysm-inducing.

“He’s so cool,” Jeongguk says, whimsical and dreamy in a way that sounds like he has framed photos of Seokjin on his walls. Maybe his picture in a heart frame, like that one meme. “You’re so lucky.” There’s definitely some jealousy there.

You raise an eyebrow. “You wanna date him instead?”

Jeongguk seems to mull it over. Doesn’t move from his spot in the tree, either, and you reckon he’s got another sixty seconds before you forcefully turn him right side up. “Nah. He seems really happy with you.”

“We’re not—” Together, your brain finishes, but you can’t bring yourself to say it. So you cough, hope Jeongguk hasn’t caught it, and say, “Yeah, we’re not doing too bad,” instead.

—

“I think you’re too far gone, personally.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes. What does Hoseok know? Okay, he’s probably the smartest person you know, but that’s medicine. He hasn’t had a long-term partner in years, so yeah, what does Hoseok know.

“I am not,” you insist, because the majority of your time in this library has been spent defending the validity of your love life, not studying. “Hobi, look.” You sigh, snapping shut your notebook. A migraine is forming just thinking about the amount of reviewing you’re gonna have to do at home to make up for this. “Does it really matter, in the grand scheme of things? Life is fleeting and we’re all inconsequential, so I understand why you’re grilling me on this and not the MLE review book we paid for—”

He pulls a face. “It was fifty bucks! You’re acting like I’m out thousa—”

“Not the point!”

Hoseok squeezes his eyes shut. Pinches the bridge of his nose. Presses his fingers deep into his frontal sinus points. “I think it not being the point is the point, though? None of this was necessary. You could’ve just brought him to the wedding without having to pretend he’s your boyfriend.” You move to protest. He waves you off. “I know you wanted to get back at your parents. Your parents suck, so I get it, but don’t you think this is a little much?”

“How?”

Now it’s Hoseok’s turn to sigh. Put-upon, like he’s a beleaguered parent talking to a very idiotic child. “Uh, how about the fact that the two of you are going on actual dates, for one? And they’re definitely dates, so I don’t want to hear it. You took him to a Michelin star restaurant, quote-unquote, just because.”

“I was hungry!”

“Sure, okay, whatever you say.” He throws his hands up, clearly defeated, and it settles all wrong in your gut. Hoseok gets mad, sure, but never at you. Not even annoyed. “Have you given any thought at all, even considered just a teeny-tiny bit, that this might not be as fake as you think?”

“No,” you retort, petulant, because it is fake and you don’t need Hoseok to tell you that.

But Hoseok is smart, you know, so you were never going to get off easy. “I think you actually like him.”

“I know. You’ve said that a hundred times.”

“And I’ll say it a hundred and one, if I have to. Fuck, your head must be made of concrete.”

“Could be,” comes your breezy response. “Maybe that’s why my mother hates me.”

Hoseok chokes. Knocks his tea over and onto the MLE guide, which prompts a distressed shriek from him and a harsh shushing from the rest of the library.

So much for it only being fifty dollars.

—

Unbeknownst to you, Yoongi does leave his skate shop, which comes as a shock for a man who has severe cavedweller vibes.

“Hey, Instagram,” he says, smelling like actual cologne and laundry detergent instead of a dispensary as he stands behind you in line.

Yoongi is clearly talking to you. You know he’s talking to you, but you still pause, fragile like a deer caught in headlights, and look over your shoulder as if he could be talking to anyone else. “Uh. Hi?”

He squints. “You are Instagram girl, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. I thought so, but you looked at me like I was the one who’s stupid so I wasn’t sure.”

Did he just call you stupid? “Did you just call me stupid?”

Yoongi shrugs. “What’s good here?” he asks, changing the subject. He definitely called you stupid.

“I—most things? I don’t know, I always just get a cold brew with oat milk.”

He grimaces. “Ew, gross. I’m gonna go grab a table. Grab me a medium iced americano.”

You order him a small, purely out of spite, and Yoongi doesn’t come to this coffee shop often enough to know the difference so he doesn’t even notice when you set it down in front of him. Takes all the satisfaction out of being petty. He must know. “Thanks,” he says, not looking up from his phone as he unwraps a straw and stabs his drink perfectly in the center.

“Sure. I’ll send you a Venmo request.”

“Oh, I don’t have Venmo.” He finally looks up. “Are you going to Jin’s thing?” All he receives in response is a blank stare. “The skate comp. Second qualifying round for the big championship event? Surely he’s told you about this.”

Let no man ever say you’re a bad liar. “Ah, yeah, of course! Med student brain. It’s all memorizing neural pathways and… stuff… and forgetting skate competitions.”

“Hm,” comes Yoongi’s response, and he quirks an eyebrow but doesn’t question you further.

(You bring it up to Seokjin later, expecting him to laugh it off, extend an invitation out of obligation. Instead, he laughs in a way that sounds fond. Says, “Yoongi beat me to it,” in a way that brings his scarlet red neck and ears to the forefront of your brain, and follows it up with, “I’d really love it if you came, but I understand how busy you must be right now,” that has your skin flushing all the same.

You’re loath to make promises, but sometimes they’re easy.)

Time is not on your side.

You barely make it to Seokjin’s second competition. Barely have your ass in the bleachers, hairline dotted with sweat and anxiety coursing through you, before he’s dropping into the bowl for his first run.

He’d mentioned it offhand. Told you it wasn’t a big deal if you couldn’t make it, because he knew how busy you were with school and that you needed to study because exam season was relentless, but he’d looked so relieved when you joked that it wasn’t so easy to get rid of you, that you’d be cheering him on from the first row. That being anywhere else just wasn’t an option.

And that had… taken you aback. Watching him skate is a good enough distraction for all those thoughts. You don’t have to dwell on the whys: why the thought of sitting in your apartment, nose stuck in a book instead of being here, had been so unconscionable. Instead, you’re able to focus on him, which is almost worse. Because the way he looks—wind pushing his hair back off his forehead as he skates around, calf muscles flexing every time he kicks, shirt fabric darkening under a light sheen of sweat, smiling at kids and the countless people he knows—is a little overwhelming. You’re winded for two reasons.

It’s a beautiful thing, watching someone do something they’re passionate about. Seokjin especially, but you’re biased. You want only good things for him.

His first run finishes. He chews on his bottom lip as the judges huddle together. Numbers flash on the scoreboard. Good—great, even. You know what the stakes are: score high enough and he’ll advance to the championship. More sponsors will fall in line. Someone will present him with one of those comically large checks that he’ll probably spend on god-knows-what at Yoongi’s shop.

More skaters follow. Highs and lows. Seokjin watches them all, enraptured, just as happy for their successes as his own. Someone bails out right next to him, arms out to break their fall, making a sound an arm should never make, and Seokjin’s there right away. He’s good.

Except the universe doesn’t always reward goodness. His second run starts off well: smooth as butter, impressively technical. Seokjin is fluid when he skates. Makes it look easy, like you could hop on a board and do it just as well. You watch him, but you almost like watching everyone else watch him more: the wide eyes, the whistles under their breath, the nods of approval. Seokjin’s got all of it, truly thrives on the admiration. He’s good, he’s good, he’s good.

You know it’s coming. That trick he’d told you about—the one he’s never been able to land during a competition. The one that’s gnawing away at him. He’s going to try it, and you’re holding your breath as he kickflips, grinds his board along the rail, does some kind of dismount that looks absurd and impossible to your untrained eye.

Then he’s on the ground.

He’s still for a second. Huffs in frustration. Back on his board before you can blink.

Seokjin’s not a child, but you know it stings. You’re overwhelmed by the urge to comfort him, the way he’s done for you countless times, but you shouldn’t so you don’t. The two of you don’t talk until after, and by then it might not matter.

It isn’t until he’s about to drop in for his final run that he scans the crowd. You want to believe the look on his face when he spots you is relief, but it’s painted over in a nanosecond. He smiles, smug but content, and then he’s shoving his helmet back on his head, clapping someone on the back, and he’s off.

Maybe the universe does reward goodness, because everything goes right this time.

Seokjin lines up to attempt the trick again, because if he’s going to go out it’s going to be on his terms. Completely unshakeable, the kind of attitude that gets plastered on those bullshit inspirational posters about falling down nine times and getting up ten, and you wonder, briefly, if it’s stupid. A good score would be enough to get him through, but he wants to do this.

And he does.

Everyone around you erupts as soon as the trick is landed. Seokjin calls the run early—just a handful of seconds left, anyway—and his fellow competitors are on him immediately. Someone picks him up in a bear hug and spins him around, and the joy on his face is so pure, so unbridled, that you almost cry.

But the wait is torturous. His second run had gone so poorly and those in the top spots had done so well that it’ll be close, even with a gazelle flip under his belt. Nothing is certain, and the way you can barely bring yourself to look at the scoreboard is proof enough. Seokjin is good, and you want only good things for him, and you can barely look at the scoreboard but you can’t look away, either—

The roar of the crowd is deafening.

A freeze-frame moment. All around you, there are fists in the air, shrill yells of Seokjin’s name, maybe a chant, nothing but chaos. You can hardly hear yourself think, but you can see just fine, and what you see is Seokjin’s gaze locked on yours. The corners of his mouth lifting into a smile. A flicker of hesitation before he’s gracefully shrugging everyone off of him and making his way over to you, and then it’s just reflex. Here, you know what to do.

You barely flinch when he grabs the back of your neck and pulls you in.

Everything is soft. Feels a bit like floating.

Seokjinnie: do you wanna come over later?

Seokjinnie: i can either cook or get takeout, your choice

The apartment is small and you love it because he kisses you at the door. Seokjin has lips you want to memorize, so you kiss him again as he pulls away. The two of you kiss for a long time: throughout the “tour,” which is just the large studio space and the bathroom, all over the kitchen as he finishes cooking, until he exaggeratedly pulls out your chair, until you have to shove food in your face to keep your mouth off of him.

Seokjin has the kind of lips that leave you questioning if it’s really this easy.

Because Hoseok had been right: this isn’t fake for you anymore. Hasn’t been for a while, if you’re being honest, and maybe before this would’ve been a realization that scared you, but this doesn’t. Not when it’s Seokjin. So, yeah, maybe it is easy.

“Wait,” he says, chest heaving, gently pulling away from you. “Before I—wait, I have to talk to you about something.”

You just smile, hands still grazing over warm skin. “I think I already know.”

He stills. Takes a few seconds to reboot his brain before he’s smiling, laughing in a way that almost sounds unhinged. “God, yeah. Yeah, me too. But it’s—not that.”

“What, then?”

Immediately it’s clear this is not going to go well. Seokjin sighs, tilts his head back against the arm of the couch. His neck is gorgeous, littered with marks from you, but you gear up for a fight nonetheless. “The competition,” he says, as if that’s enough explanation. “The final round got pushed up.”

Your stomach drops. You know what’s coming, but you still ask, “To when?” because you’re a little bit masochistic. Because maybe you’re itching for the fight. Itching to say see, I told you so, I knew this was never going to work, because it’s always been fake. Itching to hurt, because you want what’s familiar when you hurt.

“Saturday.”

The day of your brother’s wedding. “Of course.” You snort; the universe loves a good dose of irony.

He sighs again. Looks so genuinely distressed that you find it hard to truly be upset. “I’m sorry. I just found out today.”

“It’s fine,” comes your instantly reply, auto-generated. Some silly, naive part of you refuses to spiral, stubbornly convinced you can salvage this. You’d found a date. That was the rule. You’ve done exactly what your parents asked of you, and you think with a rueful smile that they’ll probably be relieved when you show up alone.

But Seokjin’s not convinced. There’s still turmoil painted across his face—some silly, naive part of him clinging to something stubborn, too. “I’m going to ask you to be there.”

Yet another freeze-frame moment. The part in video games where it’s clear you have a very important choice to make, neon signs practically blinding, saying you better choose right, better not fuck it up. But you’re going to. You’re going to say no, and it’s going to hurt Seokjin, and you have about ten seconds to come to peace with that.

“I can’t.”

To his credit, Seokjin doesn’t look surprised, and you think that might be more painful. He’d expected nothing from you and you still let him down, so his snort is sardonic and derisive when he says, “Of course you can’t.”

And your tone is defensive and disbelieving when you retort, “What’s that supposed to mean? What exactly do you expect me to do here?”

“Nothing,” he says. “I didn’t expect you to do anything, I’d foolishly hoped you’d say yes.”

Your jaw drops. Snaps shut when you swallow around the lump in your throat, because you’re not going to cry at not living up to another set of invisible expectations. “It’s my brother’s wedding, Seokjin. It’s not some small thing I can blow off.”

“Is that it?” he challenges, eyebrow quirked, expression bemused. “Or do you not want to lose your precious little trust fund?”

“Are you serious? Of course I don’t want to lose it, but I—”

“You don’t even like your brother,” he continues, giving you absolutely no reprieve. No chance to catch up, catch your breath. “You don’t even like your family, but I guess you like their money. Nothing was ever gonna be more important than that, huh?”

“That’s not fair, Seokjin.”

He hums; knows you’re right. Doesn’t try to get in anymore jabs, but he looks broken. “I don’t think this has been fake for either of us for a long time. It was stupid to think you’d go against your family on this, but I thought maybe, for me—”

“Again, that’s not fair.”

“I know it isn’t fair,” he shoots back. “I know that. I just…” He rubs his hands over his face. “I can’t skip this, and you’re not willing to skip yours, so I don’t—I don’t know what to do.”

“I can just go alone,” you say, because it seems simple. “I already did what they asked, so I can just go alone. It’s fine.”

“It’s not like that for me.”

You’re stunned into silence. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s irrational, but it’s… the principle. For me. I’m never going to match up, you know? I’m never going to be from your world. I can make all the money in the world doing what I do and I’ll still never come close. So I had this stupid thought in my head, like, if she comes then it’s real for her, too. It means something. If she’s there, we can figure it out.”

“And that’s the only way? It’s only real if I do this one thing? Doesn’t matter how we feel?” You laugh, exasperated, and you’re up and halfway to the door. “That’s bullshit, Seokjin. How am I supposed to live up to these expectations you’ve got of me if you never tell me what the fuck they are? You know, that’s—this is exactly what my family does, and you—you know that, what the fuck.”

“Hey, no—”

“I can’t belie—” Things go all glassy. Crystalline. You need to get out of here. “I shouldn’t have asked you to do this. I’m sorry.”

“Wait—”

You press harshly into your eyes. You’re not going to cry over this. “Good luck, Seokjin.”

[THE CHOICE]

Things come full circle during another two a.m. crisis.

You’d stared at the ceiling. Scrolled mindlessly through your phone. Ignored Seokjin’s texts and thought about texting Hobi but decided it wouldn’t be fair and instead went cross-eyed watching some questionable late night paid program. Tried to disregard the crippling weight on your chest. Couldn’t. Thought about what Namjoon might do, because he seems well-versed in these sorts of crises, and looked up Sartre quotes on the internet. Got as far as one and quit, both because it hit too close to home and because all you can think about is your last two a.m. crisis.

Seokjin’s voice had been so soft. It wouldn’t have that same tenderness if you called him now and that stings, knowing you had a good thing, something velvet, and you let it go.

And still you think about Namjoon, about the ethics of conservation: when to preserve and when to let die. Does preservation ensure survival, or does it stave off the inevitable? It all gives you a headache, because nothing is guaranteed but that doesn’t mean you don’t try.

Jimin goes to Milan. Taehyung posts a selfie looking sad and beautiful on some balcony in Paris. You don’t want to be like them, doing some perpetual song and dance. Resisting an obvious thing.

Your brother answers on the second ring.

“Hello?” Groggy and confused. A voice you’ve heard a million times that still feels indistinguishable from a stranger’s.

“I can’t come to your wedding.”

A moment of silence, both literally and for your trust fund. “Uh, okay.”

“I’m sorry,” you rush out, because it feels important to say even if you don’t necessarily feel sorry. “I, uh—I am sorry, because I like your fiancée and I know this is probably a huge inconvenience considering your wedding is in a few hours, but I can’t—”

There’s some rustling. You don’t think you’ve ever talked to your brother in the middle of the night before. “It’s really fine.” He yawns. “This couldn’t wait ‘til the morning, though?”

“Not really.”

“Alright. Why do you sound like you’re about to have a panic attack?”

A lightbulb moment: he doesn’t know. “I am. You don’t know?”

“Know what?”

“That Mom and Dad threatened to cut me off if I didn’t show up at your wedding with a date.”

More silence. Then, slowly, the trickle of laughter. Just a quiet snort at first, and you’re a little confused, wonder if you should be laughing too, if he’s laughing at you, and then it compounds until he’s nearly in hysterics. “Oh my god.” He’s almost shrieking. “Holy shit. That’s why you brought that guy to dinner, isn’t it? The one they hated?” It’s the first time you’ve heard him sound like this.

“Yeah.”

“That’s fucking hilarious. Fair play.” You wonder why you’ve spent two-plus decades hating this man on the other end of the line. “Okay, then. Why can’t you make it?”

You talk until you’re hoarse: about the competition, the fake relationship that hasn’t been all that fake for weeks, about the trust fund and growing up under the weight of your family’s money and expectations and always coming in third behind societal ass-kissing and your brother. You’re not looking for an apology but you get one anyway. A heart-to-heart in a moment that’s not entirely built for one, because the sun is coming up and your brother is still getting married in a few hours even if you won’t be there to witness it.

“All right, I really gotta go, but listen: I’ll talk to them, okay? And I’m rooting for you. Maybe in a few weeks you and Seokjin can come over for dinner, if it all works out.”

“Yeah, sure.” You agree readily, and it’s nice to have someone that shares your name in your corner. “I’ll make sure he behaves.” Your smile drops, chest cracked in half. “If it works out.”

Your brother says goodnight and wishes you well. Hangs up, and the silence is deafening and consolatory. You think about the Sartre quote again: Freedom is what you do with what's been done to you.

Whatever happens, you think you’ll do just fine when it’s on your own terms.

Perhaps naively, you expected the day of your brother’s wedding—and subsequently Seokjin’s competition—to be gloomy. Of course, the weather is perfect. Mid-70s, light breeze, cloudless blue sky. When you’re wounded everything feels like an attack, so maybe before it would’ve felt like the universe was mocking you, saying look how beautiful and intact the world is when you’re falling apart, but you see something else.

You’d done a lot of thinking. Soul-searching and introspection and all those uncomfortable, vulnerable things you and Seokjin had talked about before, and you’ve made it to the other side, so a cloudless blue sky on a beautiful afternoon doesn’t feel like an attack. What you see is clarity being reflected back at you.

But it still takes a lot of courage. Instead of putting on a stunning, designer dress and painting on a smile to pacify your family and anyone else important enough to be granted entry, you’re pulling on normal clothes and normal shoes. It doesn’t matter if your hair and makeup are done. Everything feels wrong for a moment, like you’re forgetting something important, and you suppose that’s normal. This is arguably the biggest and most consequential decision you’ve made thus far in your life. No wonder you’re out of sorts.

Normally, this is where you’d compartmentalize. Tuck all that discomfort away for later: a problem for Future You. But that had been your go-to for years, and it did nothing but turn you into an emotionally constipated mess, so you’re done with that—trying to be done with that. Which is fine, because you don’t have a plan, not really, but sometimes it’s enough to simply show up, so that’s what you’re going to do.

Rejection is likely. You’re smart enough to know that, and you’re mature enough to accept it, if it comes down to it. But you don’t want Seokjin to feel rejected. Not again. That’s more important. So you’re going to show up, heart on your sleeve, and if he rejects you, fine, but you’re going to be there. And you’re going to cheer when he wins, even if your voice is drowned out.

Another packed event. It helps to feel anonymous when your sympathetic nervous system is working overtime like this. You’re trembling by the time you find a spot—a little out of the way, no room left on the bleachers. Seokjin probably won’t see you here, wouldn’t think to look, and it’s okay. You’re here for him but you’re here for yourself, too. Just to prove you can. Just to prove that you’re still human.

It all goes by in a blur. The skaters you don’t recognize, some you do. Scores that are both meaningful and meaningless until they aren’t. Seokjin’s name gets called and your stomach drops, but it’s okay. You see Namjoon, Yoongi, and Jeongguk, all nervous energy and bit fingernails and cautious smiles. They don’t see you, but it’s okay.

Two runs happen in a nanosecond. Seokjin holds steady in third. The guy sitting in first falls on his final run, and it’s best of three so you’re not breathing easy yet but your fingers start tingling with anticipation. The guy in second does well but nothing good enough to improve his score. Your phone’s blowing up in your pocket. Presumably your brother’s told your parents by now, and you can wait just a little longer to get cut off. What’s in front of you is more important, it is, and you know it when—

Call it divine intervention, but Seokjin looks up just as he’s about to drop into the bowl. Looks right at you, and the tingle spreads from your fingers all over. Another freeze-frame moment; the two of you are getting good at this.

He smiles. He wins.

Feels a bit like falling in love.

As always, thank you for reading! My inbox is always open if you’d like to leave feedback. I’d love to hear your thoughts! ❤

#btswritingcafe #thebtswritersclub #btshoneyhive #btscarnivalnet #bts imagines #bts scenarios #seokjin imagine #seokjin x reader #jin x reader #seokjin x you #jin x you #bts fanfiction #bts fic #seokjin fanfiction #jin fanfiction #seokjin fluff

437 notes · View notes