#my stickiest son

[itmaybedullbutimdetermined]

peter parker and his complete inability to let poor johnny storm just get a decent night’s sleep

[robbinsesque]

I laid in bed until the sun came up, my belly full of tequila and cheap wine and my mouth ripe with tang, head bloated by anxieties that were of no immediate concern but still hung heavy and dark. My limbs felt sore all over and my clothes smelled vaguely of moss. The soles of my bare feet were so dry and calloused they snagged on the woven cotton of my blankets like the kiss of Velcro. I remember when my father would cook the fish he brought home for dinner, and he always ate the eyes in front of me like it was a challenge. I imagined those seedy eyes in his stomach, rolling around helplessly, watching as the waves of stomach acid lapped at the cavity walls and then finally came together to swallow them whole. I wonder what they saw last - was it the chartreuse slosh of bile, or was it the pulsing void of the esophagus, opening only to release the chewed-up mass of the fish’s continued body? I wonder when he hit my mother, what did she see first - the bared peaks of his fist, or the series of red-hot blows that followed? Because the initial violation was never just that, no, it was always a careful sequence - almost musical in cadence, the bam-bam-bam and acceleration and then sudden softness, all collapsing into the now-hollow crust of the virile masculine, and by the time it was over she was already half-digested, dissolved into bloody enzymes and laid out stricken on the floor, feeling inexplicably barren, even as her womb continued to flow as naturally as the sea. And the eyes of the fish have to watch as the rest of their body rains down in wet white lumps: the meat, the glimmer of a gill, the corroded silver of a once-languid tail. She feels that the small embryo inside of her has already been sullied, that this child has been bastardized by the fury of her truest love. And maybe I came out a bastard, feet-first, maybe that’s why I walk bow-legged and mucky and why I always feel a nascent evil throbbing at my stickiest core. Like father, like son, I was born with fish eyes in my belly, a small animal trapping another small animal and all straining for life: a Russian doll of pain and glory. As I’m digested by my father’s image, I find that the neck of a whiskey bottle molds so much more comfortably to that seductive curve of my palm, and I find that I’m much more comfortable unshowered and sickly. Like father, like son, like the gruff way he ate every meal like it was his last, like the creased yellow fondant of his fingernails and the dirt underneath he never bothered to scrub, like the way he huffed under a broom-bristle mustache and broke porcelain just to hear the piano-key tinkle of its splinter. We conform to those models of love that feel most comfortable: not to say that they’re easy, just that we’re so familiar with them that the mimesis of action is almost innate, that replication seems less like a choice than some infallible curse. Now my mother lies in a nursing home with that silver ring still fastened to the bony remnant of her most indicative phalange, resting right below the knob of an arthritic knuckle, as she listens to the monotony of her heart monitor and waits for some metaphysical form of clemency to carry her out to sea.

[scary-senpai]

Verily, old sport, did you not think to engage Garou’s parents before you set out with the explicit intent to kill their son with your bare hands? I know, I know, it’s complicated, but—

I am lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering about Bang’s relationship with Garou’s parents: if Bang called Garou’s parents after he was expelled, or updated them during the subsequent Hero Hunt. How much they talked about Garou’s behavior and progression at the dojo, the good and the bad. If Bang ever considered what he would say to Garou’s parents, if the worst-case scenario ever came to pass. Was he planning to have someone else break this news, if he delivered any news at all?

And yes, there was the caveat about how “unlike Garou’s mother, this actress seems kind.” I can’t help but think back to one of my CogPsych classes: the information you have is the information you have, but we (as humans) have a storytelling brain, and we tend to fill in the blanks as we see them. Consider an old-fashioned answering machine: if you have no missed calls, it means no one called you. It doesn’t mean nobody loves you, or that nobody thought about you, or even that nobody called you because technical glitches are a thing—and yet we read into these small things, constantly, with ourselves and others.

Garou’s parents didn’t come to his detention means that they didn’t come to his detention. It’s not a good sign, but it’s also a small breadcrumb in a large context. Was Garou expecting them? Did Garou tell them? Did he even want them there on the first place? Are they okay? Are they even alive? Life is hard, especially in the OPM-verse. We’ll come back to that.

“But unlike Garou’s mother, this actress seems kind.” Seems kind. We haven’t met Garou’s mother, but when it comes to the OPM-verse, I have rarely experienced a first impression I did not come to retract or regret.

How do Garou’s parents feel about Bang? Did they know that he was tasked with taking Garou down by any means necessary? How do they feel about that? Would that, perhaps, inform their decision to attend his detention? Do they feel like Garou is in good hands, and that Bang has the situation under control, and that their son might be embarrassed or ashamed?

When I was 23, I got arrested. I didn’t call my parents, because I didn’t want to worry them and I was humiliated. I called my roommate instead, because I needed help but also I was miserable and terrified, and I didn’t want to involve more people than I absolutely had to, and because I didn’t get in legal trouble for anything fun (like a raucous party) or noble (like civil disobedience)—all I did was forget to take an exceptionally pointy keychain out of my purse before I went through airport security. When my parents asked why I showed up their house a day later than expected, I just told them “I missed my flight.” It felt really freeing, actually, to realize I could set more extensive boundaries as an adult.

Going back to Garou’s detention… Was it physically possible for his parents to make it? Can they afford to take off work, if they can take off work at all? does he have other siblings and if so, do they have reliable childcare? What’s their transit situation? OPM-verse is on literally on fire, and a huge chunk of Z City (and beyond) took damage. Are they in a disaster area? Perhaps they are also frantically wading through a tide pool for what remains of their home.

It’s not that I dislike Garou and Bangs relationship, I actually really enjoy thinking about them and i appreciate that their dynamics are multifaceted. Parent / child relationships are pretty much the stickiest wicket you can get, people spend lifetimes trying to untangle that stuff.

Maybe it’s just my own baggage again, but I feel like every interaction between Bang and Garou has a bittersweet edge to it. They always seem so close and so far from one another: Garou goes running from situations just to prove that someone is looking, he is hungry for compliments that he compulsively refutes, and he constantly aches for a helping hand that he can make some great show of refusing. Of course that would inform (and subsequently complicate) his family dynamics. Garou often brags about how little he cares, or how much he resents those he’s close to, and the gets into trouble when people take him at his word.

Bang is similar: he desires close relationships that give the illusion of distance, that’s why he hems and haws about being a lonely old man until someone caves and invites him to hot pot.

All in all, Bang and Garou want to get close to people without admitting that they are close to people (plausible deniability, and all that). In this way, they understand each other—even though their interactions consist of innumerable insults and jeers, the affection is palpable (albeit largely unspoken). At the same time, it’s not sustainable—especially for Garou, who is isolated and vulnerable and needs a support network to move forward, and still seems to think he can accomplish that by fighting. But Bang and Garou’s communication style isn’t a problem for the two of them, and as a result they’re just reinforcing unfortunate behaviors in each other rather than encouraging growth. I dunno, man. I’ve been awake for two goddamn days.

Edited to add: somebody dropped me an ask about Garou’s parents ☺️ I talked mostly about my OCs but also parenting and mental health and family dynamics. It was a fun time.

[the-empress-7]

"Maybe she’ll recreate her “humanitarian” credentials. Rwanda and India." Rwanda is next to the DRC where the EBOLA outbreak is still raging. Doubt they will be cleared to travel to that region. As for India &their fake kitchen that is going to dispense vaccines- please recall another Indian anon from a family of doctors- its not easy to get supply of the vaccine. Supply is monitored like a nuke, it was the stickiest thing i have seen in a long time. No wastage no pilferage no black market 1/5

In India no black market is a BIG DEAL. We had a black market for Remdesivir, Ivermectin, HCQ. Also, whats she going to do in India? We are not going to entertain known grifters. Some politicians at the state level may host them but they wont be guests at federal level, as in they wont be guests of India. They can call on local dignitaries in their personal capacity. Local politicians may want a picture with PRINCE Harry, (Charles and Dianas son) and his wife. The Taj was shut down for Diana 2/5

The Taj was shut down for Diana and Will and Kate. Not a chance of that happening for Ginge and Cringe.I would like to see Ken Sunshine attempt to shut down entire tourist traffic at the Taj for these two. But i bet Ken can get them into Haiti. The Democracts have good contacts there and a good little tour with kids walking around with mud cakes, who saviours Harry and Meghan can then claim to want to save, can be arranged. As for Priyanka, she wont allow MM to use her. Remember how quickly 3/5

Remember how quickly she refuted the claims that Priyanka met Archie with a gift from Tiffanys? Yeah, Priyanka understands that game, the Prime Minister attended her wedding, she has contacts but she wont use them. NOT A CHANCE. "Everyday aunties wear bigger diamonds than hers" This cracked me up. I am so happy to see so many Indian anons. It reminded me of the time i was at a sweet shop &an assuming looking lady in her 50s was quietly ordering her stuff, i saw her arm pointing at something 4/5

and there were two diamond bangles (those single string ones), i thought OTT and looked at her, she was wearing large solitaires, looked at her other hand giant diamond ring. But thats how these Indian Aunties roll. This is literally daily wear, They dont take this stuff off, they even shower in them. India doesnt just process diamonds in bulk, the public buys a lot of gold and diamonds. Yes MMs diamonds are not a big deal and the fact that she tries to make them into a big deal is sad. 5/5

Also culturally we are taught to respect our elders and not to air our dirty laundry in public. All my friends thought that they were ridiculous for doing that interview bashing their own family. And as an Indian i can tell you no one has as much family drama as we do including the petty stuff like jewellery and property, but we dont discuss it with outsiders. Plus we are all aware of the evil "choti bahu" (wife of the younger brother)

====

I love this. Thank you.

[phis-corner]

tightrope (songfic)

Some people long for a life that is simple and planned

Tied with a ribbon

Some people won't sail the sea 'cause they're safer on land

To follow what's written

“Marinette, this is Dick, our son. He’s also training on trapeze, and since he’s your age, we decided to instruct you together.” Mary tells her.

Four-year-old Marinette Dupain-Cheng beams and holds out her hand. “Hello! I’m Marinette. It’s nice to meet you!”

The boy, who has dark hair and the bluest eyes she’s ever seen, takes it and smiles brightly. “I’m Dick. It’s nice to meet you too.”

That was the beginning of a long journey. Mary and John, Dick’s parents, otherwise known as the Flying Graysons, instructed them in the art of trapeze for two years before they performed in their first show at age six. Robin and Swallow soared through the air, twisting and flipping as they propelled their bodies with the bars. They received the loudest applause, second only to the Flying Graysons themselves.

But I'd follow you to the great unknown

Off to a world we call our own

Marinette and Dick spent their days flying off the bars, throwing and catching each other and playful competition. Swallow and Robin, Haly’s youngest performers, continued to greet the crowd with joyful smiles wherever they went.

Dick was her best friend. They did nearly everything together, whether it be snacking on funnel cake or seeing who could do more backflips in a row. All the performers and staff at Haly’s knew they were inseparable.

Or so they thought, anyway. All good things must come to a close.

Hand in my hand

And we promised to never let go

We're walking a tightrope

High in the sky

We can see the whole world down below

We're walking a tightrope

One day, when they were eight, her parents, who ran the catering service, received the news. Her grandfather, who owned a bakery in Paris, had died and left it to Tom. They were going to move to France to manage the bakery.

She was going to leave the circus. Marinette was going to leave the feeling of weightless flight, the joy of tumbling through the air, behind.

Marinette was going to leave Dick behind.

She didn’t want to leave. But there was nothing she could do. The bakery needed someone to take over, and that someone was her parents. At least she was fluent in French, as well as Romani.

On their last day, she and Dick clutched each other like the world was ending, which, in a way, it was. Haly’s was a travelling circus, which meant that they didn’t use phones and letters were almost impossible to send.

“Don’t forget me.” Marinette whispered, blinking away her tears. “If you’re ever in Paris, expect me to be there.”

“I will. Don’t you dare forget me either.” Dick replied, trying hard to keep his own tears at bay.

“Marinette, sweetie, it’s time to go.” Sabine said gently. Reluctantly, the two children pulled apart and said their last words to each other for another eight years. 

Only when they landed in France did Marinette allow herself to cry, to mourn the loss of her first partner.

Never sure, never know how far we could fall

But it's all an adventure

That comes with a breathtaking view

Walking a tightrope with you

With you

With you

Paris was… different. After spending her entire life travelling the world, Marinette was finally rooted down in one place. And she was lonely. 

Sure, she had friends, but Marinette found herself searching the people around her for a playful smile, kind blue eyes, and gleaming dark hair. She missed her best friend, missed doing flips and twists on the trapeze with him.

Her parents signed her up for gymnastics. It wasn’t the same.

At night, she would stare at the night sky from her balcony, and imagine that, wherever Dick was in the world, he was doing the same. 

There was a gaping hole in Dick’s life, wherever he went. She had taken up so much of it, and now that Marinette was in France, he noticed her absence at every turn.

The first time he performed as a Flying Grayson instead of Robin, without Sparrow at his side, tears threatened to spill over his smile. It got more bearable over time, but only just. Every time he took to the skies on the trapeze, even when he saw a little girl eating funnel cake. Everything reminded him of dark blue hair and gleaming bluebell eyes, tiny freckles and a smile like the sun itself.

He found himself looking at the night sky more often than not, identifying the constellations and thinking of her.

A year later, he stood over his parents’ limp bodies and a growing pool of blood, and wished that she were there to comfort him like she always was, and not living in a bakery in Paris.

Dick donned a mask and cape and his family’s colors and became Robin again, but this time as a sidekick to Batman, helping him take down criminals and bring them to justice. He soared through the skies at night with his grappling hook, even doing a quadruple somersault off Wayne Enterprises, but it just wasn’t the same as before.

Marinette became Ladybug at thirteen.

She was suddenly thrust into a world of heroes and villains, a world of magical jewelry and evil butterflies and mini gods that granted you powers. She spent her days at school or fighting akumas, her nights on patrol incorporating extra flips in between every swing, remembering a time where another boy, with black hair instead of blonde, and blue eyes instead of green, soared alongside her.

Marinette gave Adrien his umbrella back the next day. Alya thought she had a crush on the blonde, but she couldn’t bring herself to forget Dick. If she tried to see Adrien romantically, she would just see another boy over him. 

A boy she hadn’t seen in five years.

Mountains and valleys, and all that will come in between

Desert and ocean

You pulled me in and together we're lost in a dream

Always in motion

Robin formed the Young Justice along with Aqualad, Kid Flash, Superboy, and Miss Martian when he was nearly thirteen. Half a year later, the League sends them to Paris to investigate a potential threat.

They prepared for a lot of things, but seeing a huge baby with terrible color coordination knock over the Eiffel Tower was not one of them. A girl dressed in red with black polka dots that fought with a yoyo and a boy clad in black leather with cat ears on his head were not accounted for either.

Robin noticed the way the female heroine almost flies through the air, like she’s been doing it her entire life.

Ladybug and Chat Noir were grateful for the added help during akuma attacks. Hawkmoth was caught and revealed to be Gabriel Agreste within another three months. Chat, who turned out to be his son Adrien, gave up his miraculous after that. He just wanted to live a normal life. 

Robin and his teammates offered Ladybug a spot on their team, and the League approved of their choice. Ladybug accepted, and moved into Mount Justice not long after.

Ladybug was surprised the first time the Young Justice showed up to an attack, but she easily worked them into her plan and captured the akuma. They offered their resources and skills to fight the akumas faster and track down Hawkmoth. Gabriel Agreste was arrested not long after, and Adrien no longer wanted to be a hero after that, which was understandable.

Master Fu transferred Guardianship to her following Hawkmoth’s defeat and Young Justice, backed by the Justice League, offered her a spot on their team. Ladybug agreed, as she was now the Guardian and not escaping the hero's life anytime soon, nor was she willing to leave it.

Marinette told her parents about Ladybug, and gained their approval to move into Mount Justice. To her classmates in Paris, she told them she was going to America to study.

Ladybug rotated through various miraculouses throughout the day to keep her identity hidden, for the time being. She still wasn’t comfortable with so many people knowing, even after telling her parents. Luckily, Robin was the same. From what she gathered, only Kid Flash knew his identity.

She tried hard to ignore the pang in her heart every time she saw the dark-haired, cheerful boy, dressed in the Flying Graysons’ colors with her partner’s name. Because there was no way that this Robin was Dick.

Dick, as far as she knew, was still in Haly’s with his parents. Not dividing his time between Gotham City and Mount Justice. Not being a partner to the rest of the Young Justice team and the sidekick to the Dark Knight, whom he called his father.

So I risk it all just to be with you

And I risk it all for this life we choose

Ladybug proved herself useful to the team, calling up her Lucky Charm in the stickiest solutions and always finding a way out. She was clever and quick to think on her feet in battle, choosing to outwit her opponents instead of beating them through brute force. When it was needed, she would merge with another miraculous or use a completely different form, whatever was necessary for them to win. The Tiger miraculous proved extremely useful for covert op missions.

She also constantly baked treats for everyone. Ladybug taught M’gann how to actually bake a good cake, and would give them pastries when they looked like they needed to be cheered up.

They also discovered that being the Guardian came with new powers. Robin received a fairly deep cut on his right arm from a mission, but Ladybug stopped him from stitching it up, instead muttering an incantation in an unrecognizable language. Her fingers glowed white, and she traced them over the wound, closing it instantly, not even leaving a scar behind.

When Marinette wasn’t baking for her teammates or designing, she found herself heading to the training room. The room had a wide variety of resources, including trapeze equipment. She walks into the room in her Multimouse transformation, as to give Tikki a break, and freezes in place.

Robin is swinging on the trapeze, sailing through the air with a carefree smile on his face and doing a quadruple somersault- the Flying Graysons’ signature move- like it was second nature. He moves with an elegance that she has only ever seen in one other person, and all of a sudden, the name, the colors, the familiar energy, everything makes sense.

Multimouse warms up as fast as she can, and climbs up the rungs to the platform opposite him with a grin. She recognizes the routine, the one they used to do back in the day as Robin and Sparrow at Haly’s. Without missing a beat, she launches herself onto the bar, seamlessly picking up where he was and weaving herself in.

When the time comes for her to let go and for him to catch her, she gives him a trusting smile and releases her hold, soaring, flying forward, right into his hands, which clasp around her wrists in an achingly familiar way. I’ve found you at last.

Robin- Dick- grins at her, and Multimouse smiles back, as wide as she can, because she’s finally found him again, after so many years apart. 

Hand in my hand

And you promised to never let go

We're walking a tightrope

High in the sky

We can see the whole world down below

We're walking a tightrope

When Robin has a bit of free time at Mount Justice, he finds himself climbing the rungs to the trapeze platform and immersing himself in the old routine he used to do with her. The lively dance they used to do in the air is still cheerful, but without a partner, it’s more melancholy than he’d like to admit.

He notices Multimouse walk in and freeze when she sees him. This was the first time she’d seen him on trapeze, so Robin assumes it’s just the shock. He lets go of the bar and easily turns a quadruple somersault with an exhilarated smile on his face before grabbing the bar again.

Multimouse climbs up to the opposite platform with a smile, and easily falls into the routine alongside him. She does Sparrow’s flips and twists with the grace of a person born to fly and an overjoyed smile on her face.

For a while, Robin swings through the air with his first friend and first partner. When the time comes, Multimouse- Marinette- easily lets go of her bar and soars towards him, a trusting smile on her face, and he grins brilliantly back, hands clasping her wrists tight. I’ve found you at last. The message resonates between them, and he launches her back into the air towards her own bar, laughing as she flips twice before grabbing it.

They are so immersed in their aerial dance, so immersed in each other, that they don’t see the rest of the team enter to watch the two birds fly. 

Marinette’s eyes shine with laughter and joy as she takes in the sight of the one she wished she could share the entire world with. Dick’s smile could melt ice with its brilliance as he sees the person he’s missed every single day for six years.

When they both land on the floor as the routine ends, Dick immediately pulls her into a hug, squeezing her as tight as he can. She returns it with just as much, if not more, strength.

“Mari.” He whispers. “It’s you. I found you again.”

“Dick. Robin, mon oiseau. I’ve missed you so much.” Marinette replies, a single happy tear slipping down her cheek.

In the heat of the moment, she makes an impulsive decision and yanks him down by his cape and presses her lips to his. Dick eagerly returns the kiss, and soon, they’re clutching each other like the world is ending (though it was quite the opposite) and their lips firmly glued together, sending bursts of warmth through them.

Wally clears his throat, and they spring apart, only just noticing the other people in the room. “What exactly happened? You guys were doing this super cool trapeze thing like you’ve been practicing it together for years, then you’re saying stuff about ‘finding each other’ and making out like your life depends on it?”

Multimouse and Robin turn bright red, but their smiles stay on their faces. “Well, uh, how do I explain this?” Multimouse turns to Robin, who gives her a thumbs up. “Basically, today was asterous, as Robin would say. As it turns out, our civilian identities were childhood friends and grew up performing in the circus together. I had to move to France when I was eight and we lost contact after that. I was going to train in the gym when I saw Robin doing our old routine, and then everything just sort of clicked and I realized it was him.”

Robin chuckles, wrapping an arm around her waist. “That just about sums it up. I knew it was her when Mouse just seamlessly joined the routine. Although I was suspicious after that last mission. Nobody pulls off a flyaway like Sparrow.”

Multimouse lightly punched his shoulder. “Says the one who does a quadruple somersault as easily as he breathes.” They leaned in for a second kiss, smiling, and the team took that as their cue to leave them be.

Never sure. Will you catch me if I should fall?

Well, it's all an adventure

That comes with a breathtaking view

Marinette, detransformed for once with one of Dick’s domino masks over her face, sits on top of Mount Justice with her partner by her side, enjoying the night sky from their location.

She leans into him, and Dick pulls her in close, huddled under a blanket as they watch the stars glimmer over Happy Harbor.

“You know,” Marinette says quietly, “I used to look at the sky every night in Paris and hope that you were seeing the same stars that I was.”

Dick laughs, such a beautiful sound, blue eyes sparkling. “Really? I used to look at the night sky and think of you too, lubirea mia. It’s so interesting, how things work out.”

“One could say it was… whelming? Did I use that right?” Marinette reaches up and pushes a stray lock of midnight hair out of his face.

Her boyfriend simply chuckles and pulls her in for a kiss as the sun slowly makes the horizon burst with color, shedding its light on a beautiful world.

Walking a tightrope with you

With you

With you

With you

With you

With you

[ve1vetyoongi]

better with you | ksj - 01

Chapters: index

Pairing: Seokjin x female reader

Genre: fake dating/arranged marriage!au, smut, angst, humour.

Word count: 19k

Summary: A part time job as a chef at Paradise Resort seems like the perfect way to spend your summer and save up some spare cash to open your own restaurant back home. That is until you cross paths with the CEO’s son who threatens to fire you if you don’t help him inherit his trust-fund-baby-fortune. How? By making you his fiancé. Well, his pretend fiancé at least.

Warnings: oral (f receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms, spanking, semi-public sex.

A/N: uwu hello and welcome to the first chapter of better with you, part of the paradise series! i hope you enjoy reading these characters as much as i enjoyed writing them because they’re some of my favourites 🥺💘 p.s. im honestly not happy with the pacing of this chapter, but i really wanted to share, so bare with me if it sucks!

Paradise Resort and the people in it are nothing like how you imagined them to be.

Sure, Paradise is a picturesque gated community with sparkling lake views surrounded by pear trees and sprawling green lawns and white stone fountains like the website described. And sure, everyone here drives foreign cars and loiters by the pool on weekdays and drinks bubbly for breakfast from fine China beneath chandeliers which glisten in the morning sun.

But you quickly realise there is something off; something that doesn't quite fit the expectations you had when you arrived here at the start of the summer, wide eyed and excited.

And that something is you.

You aren't one of the balding golfers leisurely steering carts across the perfectly pruned Paradise grass, flirting unashamedly with pretty young women in tennis skirts as they pass. And you aren't one of their wives, leaving lipstick stains on crystal wine glasses in wicker chairs on balconies as they giggle over finger food and afternoon tea and ignorance of their husband's infidelities.

And you certainly aren't the type of girl to spend her summer's horseback riding or wielding badminton bats or sipping copious amounts of white wine, paid for a la daddy's credit card.

No, because you are a culinary major. Nothing more nothing less. And lucky for you, Paradise was hiring - at least for the summer, anyway, and who better to work overtime in the kitchens at the expense of rich dudes other than broke students, right?

While most people came to Paradise to unwind and celebrate another year of prosperity, it was simply your job to watch from the kitchen window, grit your teeth and save enough cash to put towards opening your own restaurant back home.

Which is exactly how you find yourself slaving away over a plate of scallop sashimi on the stickiest day of August as the kitchen gets ready for the biggest event in Resort history — at least according to your fellow summer employee and designated dish washer duty-man Park Jimin, who seemed to be a constant fountain of gossip -- a trait which you secretly liked him for, despite feigning disinterest in his tittle-tattle.

"Do these people even know what good food is?" You frown at an underwhelmingly small plate of goat cheese salad as you wipe the edge of the plate with a cloth. "They can't seriously want to eat this. Don't they ever just, like, want a burger or something?"

"You're just noticing this place is bonkers?" Jimin snickers behind you, hoisting his weight onto the counter and pulling a grimace of his own when he lay eyes on the limp pile of lettuce leaves they dare to refer to as a meal here. "I saw someone order dessert for breakfast yesterday. Rich people have no rules, Y/N. Besides, it's not like we can serve burgers once Mr Kim arrives."

"Mr Kim?" You ask curiously. "Who's that?"

Jimin's eyebrows furrow, like he can't actually believe you're asking him such a question. Ever since you got here at the beginning of the summer he's been diligently keeping you up to date with the latest Paradise gossip, so you aren't sure why he's surprised you're as out of the loop as ever.

"Mr Kim. The founder of Paradise’s son?" You shrug, blinking at him cluelessly and Jimin shakes his head with a pained expression, lowering his voice like he's utterly appalled at your ignorance. "You haven't heard anything about the guy who is gonna take over this place once his father retires? Kim Seokjin?"

Ah, so that's who the infamous Seokjin is. His name has been buzzing through the kitchen for the last week, much to your confusion, and apparently he would be dining in the restaurant tonight.

You heard the senior chef's were working over time to perfect the cherry clafoutis he personally requested (despite not being an on-the-menu dish) and his impending inheritance of his father's dynasty seemed a topic of hot gossip, spreading in hushed whispers from the bar girls out front to the janitor, everyone seemingly desperate to get a glimpse at the Kim Seokjin. Meaning there are only two possible reasons as to why: he is rich or he is filthy rich.

"So what's the big deal with this guy. Is he some sort of celebrity or something?" You nudge Jimin in the ribs as you return to your station and start to sauté a fresh batch of onions. 

"Nah, just filthy rich." Jimin indulges and you nod. Just as I thought. "And goddamn hot if I should say so myself." He adds, returning to his dish washing station with a sigh, wrinkling his nose when his hands plunge into the soapy suds.

"Still, I don't see why I need to work over time for him." You grumble. The clock had chimed five o clock ten minutes ago and usually you'd be on your way to have a shower and shampoo the smell of grease and garlic out of your hair but instead you were still on the clock, orders lining up for you to prepare and stat. "What’s so special about him dropping by for dinner. Everyone here is rich."

"Well I was talking to one of the big guys," Jimin nods towards the senior chefs. "And apparently his parents have been trying to get him to marry his girlfriend for, like, ever." Jimin's voice dips to a whisper. "But get this. He broke up with his girlfriend last week when his parents suggested they get married!"

You narrow your eyes. "Right. So I'm working over time because some rich dude decided to throw his toys out of the stroller?"

Jimin rips off his pink rubber gloves and shakes you by the shoulders, like he’s trying to knock some sense into you. "Just shut up for a second would you? We're working overtime because his parent's have set him up on a date!"

You slap a hand over mouth, letting out an exaggerated gasp. "Not a date!"

"I know right!" Jimin shakes his head as if this is the scandal of the century, not quite sharing your sarcasm. "Can you believe it?"

"Is he talking about Kim Seokjin, again?" Jungkook, one of the summer buss boys, emerges from the restaurant through the double doors in his familiar black uniform. Jimin quickly smoothes down his hair, mentally chastising himself when soap suds coat his blonde locks, face burning as red as the tomatoes you chop beside him. It's common knowledge that Jimin has the biggest, all consuming crush on the oblivious chestnut haired waiter who flashes you an ever cheeky bunny smile now as he scoops up the dish you prepared onto the tray balanced on his forearm. 

He shoots Jimin an eye roll. "All he talks about is Kim Seokjin this, Kim Seokjin that." Jungkook shrugs. "I really don't see what the big deal is about this guy."

Jimin crosses his arms sulkily and you have to stifle a laugh at the pair. "The big deal is that this date has to go well - no, perfect - because Seokjin needs to marry someone "parent approved" or else his father will reject him as the heir of his dynasty."

You want to ask him about his impressive eavesdropping abilities but you have to admit, this is pretty big news - especially around here where the latest hot gossip was Han Seojin's husband's gambling problem when he hit up the casino after a few too many brandy's.

"So basically, the fate of the resort lies in his hands tonight." Jimin adds excitedly as he slams the dishwasher closed with a triumphant grin.

You roll your eyes. That is surely a bit dramatic. The guy was probably too blinded by the riches he would be inheriting to care about the poor girl he was getting hitched too. "You're invested in this, huh?"

Jimin nods eagerly. "Like I said. He's hot. Like sex on legs hot."

If you weren't watching carefully you may have missed Jungkook's eyes narrowing slightly or the way he tenses and puffs out his chest. "Pfft. He is not."

"So is!" Jimin pouts. "You're just jealous you're not as inhumanely gorgeous as he is." Jungkook raises a brow and Jimin rushes to smooth over his words. "Not that you're not gorgeous! No, that's not what I mean—"

The awkward moment is interrupted by the sound of a ladle banging against a frying pan, and you let out a groan when you hear the unmistakable yell of the head chef. "Attention everyone!"

"Speaking of crazy people." Jimin mutters with a roll of his eyes, rolling up his uniform sleeves and wiping his forehead with the back of his hand as all the employees gather in the centre of the kitchen. "Looks like Hoseok got out of the wrong side of bed again."

You stifle a giggle when you find that Jimin is in fact correct, head chef Hoseok rounding the corner with an ever serious expression on his face. He has always been the stern type, mouth constantly fixed in a permanent frown as he criticises your dicing skills or catches you burning another steak, but you can see by the bluish bags under his eyes and the furrowed lines etched into his forehead that he means business today and a hush quickly falls over the kitchen apart from the gentle hiss of frying onions.

"As you all know, today is a big day for Paradise." He begins. "Each and every one of our future's here as employees depends on it. Mr. Kim has chosen us to cater for his dinner date and I need each and every one of you to do everything you can to make sure it goes smoothly. Capeesh?"

Dang. Is head chef Hoseok himself nervous? He's usually irritatingly confident in his cooking abilities. Maybe this was more serious than you thought...

"I'm counting on you guys to prove our worth, you hear me? It's already an honour that he picked us to host such an important event, and if we fumble who d'ya think he's gonna fire first once he takes over as CEO?" Hoseok interrupts your train of thought, waving a wooden spoon now like he's conducting an orchestra. "Which is why I expect zero funny business. I'm looking at you Jeon Jungkook! Now scram, we have customers to feed."

A unanimous groan fills the room as everyone gets back to work, and the kitchen falls into a state of turmoil as the clock ticks away, Seokjin due to arrive in a few hours and you haven’t even started on his appetizer yet.

"This better be worth it." You grumble to yourself, suppressing a smile when Jungkook bounds like a Labrador puppy into the restaurant fit  with an armful of salads yelling "Rabbit food coming up, y'all!", despite the stern look Hoseok sends his way.

You turn to Jimin, rolling your eyes at the hearts in his eyes for Jungkook as he strains his neck to get a glimpse of the chestnut haired boy's ass through the kitchen's window. He blushes when he notices you looking, but not before he’s flashing you a grin.

"Just wait until you see him," Jimin calls cheekily as you rush to the stove you had abandoned earlier. "Then you'll be glad you worked over time."

As it turns out, you are not glad you worked overtime. Kim Seokjin is late. Unfashionably late. So late that you are considering eating the dish you slaved over for nearly an hour to perfect to his preferences only for him to let it go limp and cold.

At least you could add another trait to the list of what you now know about Kim Seokjin: filthy rich, (allegedy) goddamn hot, heir to the resort and most importantly douche bag who can't make it on time to the first date with his future wife.

To make matters worse, the level of unrest in the kitchens is unlike anything you have ever seen before as everyone nervously awaits his arrival. Jungkook has been out front to polish the wine glasses at the private table he set up and lovingly adorned with candles and a bottle of iced champagne of the expensive kind because it would "create sexy vibes" more times than you can count. Hoseok took extra care with the placement of the parsley on top of the steaks he grilled and you even saw Jimin fixing his hair in the reflection of a shiny pan.

When the clock ticked over to eight, everyone had gathered around the small kitchen window, eyes beadily trained to the door. 

"He'll be here any minute now, I can feel it." Jimin whispers as he sidles up beside you, practically vibrating. His excitement for the date has started to rub off on you, a funny fuzzy feeling settling in your chest — all this Kim Seokjin talk has you itching to see the guy in the flesh, even if it is just from behind the kitchen window.

Sure enough, Jimin's Kim Seokjin senses must be somewhat accurate because a hurried hush falls across the kitchen as a black car pulls up outside, a unanimous gasp filling the room as you watch him emerge from behind the tinted glass windows in awe.

You were waiting for a tight lipped guy in a suit and tie to step inside; a younger clone of all the middle aged men who frequented the resort when their "model" children got busted bunking off from golf games or whatever rich kids did to rebel. Except the guy that strolls through the sliding doors like he has time to waste is so far from the average Paradise resident that you are almost sure you're hallucinating. Or have onion in your eyes. Surely you aren't seeing this clearly?

The guy who crosses the threshold and takes a seat at the table Jungkook graciously guides him to is clad in a vibrant Hawaiian shirt, the floral a stark contrast to the luxe interior of the resort. The garment is unbuttoned lazily and draped across his broad shoulders, a pair of round,humorously large sunglasses perched on the end of his nose, and if you weren't so shocked by his...impressionable entrance you might find the whole situation comical.

"This is Kim Seokjin?" You splutter, unable to stop the giggles that leave your lips at the sight of him bobbing his head unnecessarily hard to the monotonous classical tune that carries through the restaurant, blatantly ignoring whatever words Jungkook (who looked completely starstruck) was stuttering.

The situation becomes even more ridiculous when you see the disgruntled look on the pretty girl who traipses behind him awkwardly, dressed in a floor length gown and pearls, face turning sour when Seokjin neglects his manners and forces her to pull her own chair out to sit while he zones in on the bottle of alcohol in the centre of the table.

They look like characters out of two separate worlds. Jewels glitter on her fingers as she taps them agitatedly against the table, clearly as dumbfounded by the situation as you are, especially when she offers her glass to Seokjin to pour her a drink, only for him to thrust the entire bottle of wine in her face.

Your attention is drawn away from the unfolding scene momentarily when Jungkook flies back into the kitchen in typical Jungkook fashion, except this time with an extra bout of zealousness if the stars in his eyes weren't already obvious.

"I take it back!" He puffs, slipping his empty tray beneath his elbow, hands now free to swing Jimin around in circles. "He's the most beautiful human I've ever seen!"

You cross your arms with a sneer. "Looks like a goof to me. That shirt? Not a good look on anyone."

"But his face!"

"Yeah, his face, covered by those obnoxious glasses."

"You didn't see it." Jungkook whispers, pulling your hands into his own. "He could end mankind with that kind of face! And I bet he has a monster dong too-"

"Okay, jeez." You push him away, scrunching your nose in disgust. "No discussing customer's monster dongs in the kitchen."

"So you admit he probably has one?"

"Shush!" You hiss. The kitchen huddle lets out a synchronised gasp and you elbow your way back to the window, peering past a tall chef's hat to fix your attention on the scene which had somehow escalated ten fold since you'd left it.

Seokjin's body is wracked with laughter, hand slamming down ferociously against the table, making his date wince every time the fine china jumps on the table cloth. Her hands are placed carefully atop the napkin in her lap, food untouched as Seokjin takes the liberty to pour himself another glass of wine. He looks utterly uninterested in anything she has to say, and she seems embarrassed by his mannerless behaviour, glancing around anxiously. The tension between them is suffocating, even from your safe distance, and you swear you could cut it with one of the knives hanging from the utensil rack.

Then, Seokjin leans in towards her. He removes his glasses, carefully tucking them neatly into his shirt pocket before resting his chin in his palm to stare at her intently.

Maybe he was finally taking an interest in her? She seems to think the same thing, a small smile creeping onto her face despite her awkward demeanour.

Until it slips from her face nearly as fast as it appeared, replaced by an expression of pure appalled horror when Seokjin whispers something into her ear. You can only see the back of his head so lip reading is out of the question; but if the way her chin drops into her lap was anything to go by, you have a feeling whatever he said was not something you wanted to hear on a first date and probably not from your future husband, either.

Without further ado, the girl throws her cutlery down with a clash, gathering the fabric of her dress and storming out of the restaurant in a manner that suggests the date went badly to say the least.

A ruckus has broken out in the kitchen by this point; Jimin and Jungkook stopping mid monster dong debate to gawk, a rumble of chatter erupting as everyone processes the events you had just witnessed.

What did he say? Do you think it was the steak? What does this mean for Paradise? Is he still gonna marry her?

The last one came from Jungkook and you couldn't help but bite your lip in an attempt to smother the laughter that threatened to spill at his question. "Somehow I don't think he proposed to her just then, Kook."

Your eyes zone in on Seokjin again. He is slumped back in his seat now, knuckles pressed to his eyes. He looks exhausted, a sudden change in demeanour considering this is the same guy who was shooting finger guns at his date a few moments ago. Now he just seems defeated

For a moment you think he is going to get up and leave. That is until he twists in his seat, motioning towards the kitchen window with a crook of the finger. Dessert? He mouths.

The kitchen staff disperse hurriedly, a tinge of red creeping up Hoseok's neck at being caught spying, although it is clear by the smirk on Seokjin's face that he knew you were watching him all along. There is something in his eyes that even has you wiping the amused expression of your face, though. An authority.

"Could this night have gone any worse?" You ask Jimin, referring to Seokjin's debacle. Except Jungkook is quick to interject, thrusting two black bags in your face with a grin.

"For you, yes. Your turn to take out the trash."

You blink at him a few times before reluctantly taking the bags from his grip. They were heavy, nearly making you stumble. How had Jungkook held them so easily?

"Fine." You manage to get out between gritted teeth, struggling to balance with the extra weight in your arms. "But you owe me."

"Oh believe me," There is a glint in Jungkook's eyes that you can't quite put your finger on. What was he up to? "I'll make it up to you sooner than you think."

It's dimly lit when you stumble out back armed with a pile of trash bags, the only light source some fairy lights strung around the palm trees lining the restaurant. It takes all your strength and three tries to haul the heavy trash bags into the dark mouth of the dumpster and you're out of breath by the time you're finished.

Finally satisfied with your work, you wipe your hands on your apron and turn to stalk back inside and flick Jungkook's forehead - except a loud ringing from somewhere in the shadows stops you dead in your tracks.

You stiffen, hand reaching for the door handle as a precaution, head snapping towards the direction of the sound. You can't help the small gasp that leaves your lips when you take in the figure of a tall man leaning against the kitchen wall just a few meters away, the ringing ceasing when he lifts a phone to his ear with a frustrated groan.

Shit! As soon as you realise you're not alone and before you can think better of it you're scrambling behind the dumpster, crouching so that you're just out of view but still in earshot as the figure starts to murmur into the microphone.

"Yeah, dad, I know she flew all the way from Morocco to be here tonight. It's not my fault we weren't compatible!"

Huh? A voice squeaks on the other end of the line, and though you can't work out what they say exactly the frustrated sigh that leaves the man a few meters away tells you it wasn't exactly friendly.

"What makes you think you know what's best for me? I never wanted this stupid engagement in the first place!"

Intrigued and against your better judgement, you brace your hands on the edge of the dumpster and pull yourself on top of a cardboard box discarded beside it to get a better view of the scene. If you strain your neck you can just about see the shadow of a tall figure pacing back and forth just around the corner and you can't help but lean in a little closer to hear his harsh words more clearly, curiosity getting the better of you.

"Because it's my life! I'm sick of you and mom always telling me what to do with it." You raise an eyebrow, ever intrigued when the voice lifts from a hush to a yell. "Fine! I'll go on another date, but you'll see. I won't end up like you. You owe me big time for this, dad."

With that the phone call is cut off with a monotone beep and you see the shadow of the man pinch the bridge of his nose, sighing sharply, before the soles of his polished loafers crunch against the gravel in the direction of where you crouch, eavesdropping. You had enough experience with the residents here to know they wouldn't take this lightly — you had to sign a handful of NDA's before you even got the job, so naturally your eyes widen with panic when you realise you're about to get busted listening in on a confidential call. But before you can dive behind a trash bag and take cover, you lose your footing and find yourself hurtling head first into the dumpster, landing with a crash.

A few seconds pass, the footsteps ceasing as you squeeze your eyes shut and pray your beating heart doesn't give you away, before a voice calls out.

"Hello? Is someone there?"

"No!" You squeak hurriedly, slapping a hand over your mouth when it's already too late and flushing a deep shade of red when you hear a sharp intake of breath and you realise you've blown your own cover

You silently hope the guy will give up and leave, but then you hear someone climbing the outside of the dumpster and you open your eyes to see a puzzled pair of eyes peering down at you from beneath a cocked eyebrow, followed my a loud snort. "You need some help down there, sweetheart?"

This guy might be a total stranger, but any questioning words die on your tongue when you look around and remember you're literally trapped inside a dumpster and your upper arm strength is definitely not enough to get you out of this thing alone and — hold up, there's probably rats in here, right?

You scramble to your feet, brushing your messy hair from your eyes with a nervous laugh. "Uh...yeah. I guess I do."

A steady hand emerges over the edge of the dumpster and with a weak and embarrassed smile you grasp it, suppressing a squeak when the guy unexpectedly launches you over his shoulder so that he can pull you out in one fell swoop and set you safely on the ground.

"Uh, thanks." You manage to get out when you find your balance, awkwardly brushing some dirt from your apron. "Good thing you walked by when you did..."

"Yeah, guess you could call me your knight in shining armor, huh?" The guy chuckles, long and smooth like velvet. A laugh you've heard before, just moments ago in fact. That's when you battle through your embarrassment to look up and face him for the first time, flushing at the involuntary gasp that passes your lips.

The man before you has the deepest eyes you've ever seen, sharp yet soft around the edges beneath the sparkle of the low light and you shiver when they finish looking you up and down to stare into yours directly. Your eyes slip down to the familiar Hawaiian shirt draped over his broad shoulders, eyes widening when you look between your bodies to find his fingers still clasping your own as he eyes you with a curious interest.

"S-Seokjin?" You splutter. He nods, letting out a deeper chuckle this time as though he could hold it back no longer. "What are you doing out here?"

"I could ask you the same question," He counters, letting you go so he can reach into his pocket to retrieve a half pack of cigarettes and a lighter, ironically just beneath the unmissable NO SMOKING sign. "What's a pretty girl like you doing out here hauling trash at this hour?"

"I...work here."

He nods and you just stare at him like an open mouthed idiot. He must think it's because of the way he fiddles to spark a light at the end of his cigarette, drawing his eyes from the stick back to your surprised expression. "What? Oh these? I don't smoke. Stole these from my father's coat pocket." He shakes the box back and forth with a smug grin. "Nothing pisses him off more than loosing his Lucky Strikes. Besides, I own this place, I can do what I like."

You shrug. "Well, your father does." You are speaking too quickly, mentally pinching yourself for not being able to bite your own tongue. "He owns this place I mean. Right?"

A blush creeps up your neck under his gaze which narrows as he draws closer to you. His eyes are a deeper brown up close, like a pot of warm hot chocolate - soft at the edges where they crinkle into a smile at your rushed words. Nothing like the steely glares you usually got from residents here.

"Correct," The toe of his shoe kicks at the gravel beneath your soles while he strings together his next words carefully. "For now. I'll be proud owner of Paradise before the year is out, though."

"Ha." You can't help but snort under your breath, Seokjin's head simply tilting in response with an almost amused curiosity. "I don’t know about that. Didn't look like your fiance wanted to marry you very much."

"Word spreads quick around here, huh?" He lets out a dark laugh, grimacing at the cloud of nicotine that floats away into the nigh from the cigarette between his fingers that flutters to the gravel before it’s even reached his lips. You wince when he uses the toe of his Balenciaga’s to stub it out into a pile of smoldering ash before reaching for another one that he lights in the same way as before. "She wasn't my fiance, actually.To be honest, I hadn't even met her before tonight."

You let out an awkward laugh. "I take it the wedding's off then?"

"Ha ha," You practically hear the roll of his eyes. "At least one of us finds this funny, because my father sure as shit won't." His tone is suddenly chilly and for a moment you think you offended him, though a quick scan of his face reveals a turn up of the mouth that says otherwise. He kicks off from the wall, slinging his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans and you swallow thickly as the safe distance between you grows ever smaller, so close you can smell his woody cologne. "It was never on, per se. And it never will be if I have anything to do with it."

You can't help but scoff at the way he tightens his jaw and throws his arms across his chest like a toddler in time out. Sure, you hardly knew the guy but something about his attitude rubs you the wrong way. This is the guy who has everything, yet he's trash talking his lavish lifestyle to a summer employee? 

"You're kind of an asshole, huh?"

"Can't say I haven't heard that one before." Seokjin agrees with a smirk. "But you don't seem like much of an angel yourself. First I find you eavesdropping on me, save your ass from a dumpster and then you choose to insult me?"

You shift awkwardly under his intense gaze, worried you might have overstepped, mouth dry as you spit out a response. "I...I didn't mean it like that—"

"God, chill out would you? I’m kidding. You're so stiff it's stressing me out." His tongue snakes out to lick his lips thoughtfully. "You're different, y'know."

"Huh?"

"I can tell you're not like everyone else around here. You're honest." Seokjin explains, unbuttoning the top button of his shirt to allow him some more breathing room as he continues. "Everyone around here is either a liar or a cheat. Or both."

"You don't even know me." You huff.

"You don’t know me either, princess.” Seokjin smirks. “So what makes you so sure I'm an asshole?."

He blinks at you eagerly, and you realise he's serious when he arrogantly waves his hand for you to go ahead and indulge him, like he's somewhat amused.

Well damn. If this guy wanted honesty you'd sure as shit give it to him

"You want the truth?" You suck in a deep breath. "I don't know what I expected when I heard the buzz about you but it certainly wasn't a rich guy who wears hawaiian shirts and makes girls cry on first dates. I don’t need to know a single thing about you to know that you’re an ungrateful asshole, just like everyone else at this resort."

A few seconds pass, Seokjin's eyes widening in momentary surprise like he wasn't used to people telling him the truth, before his face breaks out into a beaming grin. "I have a feeling we're going to be good friends." He glances at your name tag. "Y/N, is it?"

You half nod before you register his words. "Friends, what do you mean—?"

Just then the phone in his grip starts to vibrate violently, and he holds it up so you can see the bold DAD that lights up the screen.

"Sorry to cut this short pretty, but I need to take this. Better get back to work before I cut your pay check, sweetheart." You must look visibly nervous because he bursts into laughter. "What? I'm kidding, remember?"

You roll your eyes, hiding the way your face heats up by spinning on your heels and storming back towards the kitchen, pausing briefly before you can turn the handle when you hear Seokjin call your name.

"Hey. Wait up! One piece of advice. Don't let this place, get to you, okay?" Seokjin calls with a smile. "I like your honesty, it's...refreshing."

And with that he lifts the phone to his ear, disappearing around the shadowy corner with an irritating smile and a finger salute.

For some funny reason, Seokjin's words ring out in your head for the rest of the night. I have a feeling we're going to be good friends. Something tells you that isn't the last time you're going to see Kim Seokjin, and you can't tell if the way your heart skips a beat is a good thing or not.

Much to your surprise, that isn't the last time you see Kim Seokjin.

The next night he returned equally as late and equally as eccentrically dressed and left his date, blonde this time, (though equally as pretty as the last one) flustered and red in the face as she stormed out of the restaurant with glassy eyes and crushed dreams

The night after that you spot him arguing a little too loudly with a feisty lady outside the restaurant, the way he doesn't even stay long enough to finish his champagne a clear indication that the date went less than perfect.

Night after night, the same scenario played out with different unimpressed women, until finally, they just stopped coming. No more girls. No more dates. No more of Seokjin's signature laughter permeating the entire restaurant. Sure, the guy was a complete asshole, that much was clear; but you his absence left the restaurant feeling even more lifeless than before.

Obviously Seokjin's fucked up dating life wasn’t anything to laugh about. But you had to admit his antics put a smile on your face, something which had been few and far between as of late. Even when Hoseok was working you overtime, you found yourself biting your lip to suppress a grin every time Seokjin waltzed through the door. And now he was gone, and with it your small escape from reality.

"Do you think his parents finally gave up?" Jimin sighs one late evening, shaking his wet hands in the face of Jungkook who bats him away playfully.

"Nah, he probably just found a girl he likes." Jungkook reasons. "Made his parents see things from his point of view."

You snort. "They don't sound like the type of parents who would give up that easy." After more dates than you could count on one hand with various suitors deemed good enough for their son, it was clear they were prepared for him to rebel. You doubted they would give in without a fight.

"You might be right..." Jungkook trails off, rushing to smush his face against the window. "Unless...wait! I think he's back!"

"He's back?" You breathe, elbowing Jungkook out of the way and ignoring his ow! of protest, your own breath fogging up the glass now as your eyes dart from table to table in search of a familiar face.

You let out a breathy laugh. Sure enough, there he is. Hair gelled back tonight you noted, bouncing his skinny jean clad knee beneath the table with an impatience you can't quite put your finger on.

Wait...

"Ha!" You almost do a double take. Seokjin is sat alone tonight. No nearly-crying-twenty-something across from him. Just Seokjin with a single flute of champagne in his hand opposite an utterly empty chair.

Well. This is new.

"I think he's been stood up!" You lower your voice to a whisper when your burst of laughter gains a few strange looks. "There's no girl with him this time."

"What?" Jimin splutters, standing on his tip toes in an attempt to see over your shoulder. "No girl?! Let me see!"

You budge over and Jimin lets out a gasp of surprise when he takes in the scene for himself. "The Kim Seokjin got stood up. I can't believe it!"

"Maybe he's getting a taste of his own medicine." You muse.

A mischievous look crosses Jungkook's features and then he is pulling on his black apron and scurrying towards the door. "Let's find out!"

"What? — Jungkook!"

You watch open mouthed as Jungkook approaches the lonely table, fingers quivering around the order notebook he clutches like a safety blanket, with nerves or excitement you can't quite tell; before he exchanges a few words with Seokjin who barely even glances up, lazily folding a napkin in his lap. Jungkook nods vigorously before he speed walks back to the kitchen like his life depends on it, a smug grin appearing on his lips as he thrusts the order slip towards you.

"Two orders of sirloin steak, medium! Pronto!"

"Two?" You and Jimin splutter in unison.

Jungkook looks amused. Too amused for your liking.

"Yup! And guess what?" Jimin is hanging off his every word, desperate pleas of what? making Jungkook chuckle harder. "He wants the chef to serve it."

You narrow your eyes. "Hoseok? Why?"

Jungkook scoffs as if you're being clueless on purpose. "Not Hoseok, idiot!"

"Then who?"

"You." Jungkook points a finger right at you.

"Me? Wait! Jeon Jungkook, you get back here!" Before you can ask questions he is already bounding into the restaurant like a labrador on crack.

"Have fun!" He yells over his shoulder with a wink. "You'll thank me later, Y/N."

Half an hour later and you're stood with two steaming plates balanced on your arm. Why are you so nervous? All you have to do is go out there and serve the food. It's not like he was asking you to kill someone.

But every time you muster up the courage to go out there you remember your encounter with Seokjin outside the kitchens, and you instantly feel weak at the knees.

You smooth down your apron one last time, filling your lungs with the stuffy kitchen air before Jimin's hands clamp onto your shoulders and steer you towards the door.

"What are you—?" One forceful push later and you're stumbling out into the restaurant. "Jimin!"

"You can do this!" You hear Jimin call, the exasperated look you send over your shoulder in response prompting a not so reassuring thumbs up. The way your eyes downturn into a dark glare makes him collapse into a fit of gasps and giggles as he nods for you to keep going.

I'm going to get him back for this...

The table Seokjin liked to frequent is closest to the window, view casting out over the lake which the resort surrounds like a half moon, terribly modern in all it's white pillared glory in contrast to the natural beauty of the clear blue water. The lake is darkened now with the reflection of the midnight blue sky, the soft glow of lanterns lighting up the path around it and illuminating the picture of weeping willows which ripples across the water's surface, disturbed only by canoeists tying up their boats for the evening.

Seokjin doesn't seem interested in the quiet goings on of the resort. He has probably seen them a hundred times before. His back is facing you but you can see how his eyes are transfixed on the sliding entrance doors in the windows reflection. It was late evening and most people would be returning to their suites for the night by now, but Seokjin's steely gaze remains unwavering, like he's expecting it to zip open any minute. Is he waiting for someone?

Some part of you feels sympathetic. It doesn't look like anyone is coming to join him any time soon. Poor guy is about to get a taste of his own medicine and look like a fool sat opposite an empty chair harbouring a plate of uneaten food.

Ha. It's exactly what he deserves, you think. Karma.

Every step towards him feels heavier than the last until eventually you find yourself stood with knees knocking right behind him, food probably going cold with every second you spend coaxing yourself to man up and face him. You silently pray he won't hear the pound of your heart over the low hum of chatter and scrapes of cutlery against china plates that seem to fall away to silence in this corner of the restaurant where it's just Seokjin and you.

You're debating spinning on your heels and making Jungkook do it instead when Seokjin's unrelenting stare at the door snaps up to meet yours in the window's reflection, the authority in his eyes enough to have you hiding behind your hair in shame at being caught dwindling like an idiot.

"I wasn't expecting you to actually come." His voice is a deep hum that makes you jolt and nearly drop the plates. A heat burns your cheeks when Seokjin swirls the champagne in his glass amusedly, facing you with his forearm on the back of his seat and beckoning for you to set the plates down with a nod of his head. An order.

You narrow your eyes, unable to curb the irritation that laces your sigh as you obey him. You set down the dishes, one in front of him and the other in front of the seat still empty of whomever he is expecting. "I wasn't exactly expecting to be serving you tonight either. I usually just prepare the food."

Seokjin doesn't miss the roll of your eyes, snorting at the shake of your hand that gives away the anxiety beneath your front when crystal beads of champagne splash onto the immaculate table cloth as you try to top up his glass.

"Yeah and here's a reason for that. You're a shit waitress."

The way you slam the bottle down onto the table top is a little too aggressive, the legs shaking violently and drawing the eyes of a few of the surrounding diners who wipe their mouths with a delicate astonishment and flash you dark looks at the disturbance.

"Are we done? If I'm so bad then why did you call me out here?"

"Actually, I wanted to talk to you." His fingers fold the napkin in his lap carefully. He settles back into his chair with a grin laced with mischief while you practically hop from foot to foot with nerves. "Would you sit for a second?"

"I'm an employee." You raise a brow. "I don't think that's appropriate..."

"Please?" He rests his chin in his palms.

You hug your torso and self consciously glance side to side. With a roll of your eyes you sink down into the chair, if a little reluctantly, when you're sure the couple at the table directly opposite are too deep in conversation about the crème brûlée to notice the strange encounter happening beside them.

"Fine! But make it quick or Hoseok might actually shave my head."

Seokjin gets straight to the point. "I need you to do something for me."

There is a glint in his eye as he snatches up the glass intended for the rightful occupant of the leather cushion you perch on, pouring a small amount of champagne into the flute and pushing it towards you with an encouraging nod. You observe the fizzing liquid with caution, turning your nose up at the floral aroma. Was he trying to poison you with Veuve Clicquot?

"Okay, elaborate?"

"I'm going to need you to pretend to be my date." You wait for him to laugh but his lips are pressed together in a line that tell you he is being serious. "You up for it?"

"Excuse me?" An astonished laugh punctuates your widened eyes, voice raising incredulously at his request. "Your what?"

"Hear me out!" Seokjin hisses, holding a finger to his lip to quiet you down when you splutter on the air that feels like it's thickening in your throat. "I just need to get my father off my back. It'll be five minutes tops!"

By this point you are rendered speechless, pinching the inside of your thigh to check if you are trapped in some weirdly vivid nightmare.

You? His date? Oh god...why aren't you waking up?

Your lips curl around a single breathless word. "Why?"

"Hello, I'm Kim Seokjin? Dad owns the resort? Need to get married to inherit it? I thought we went over this the other day—"

Throwing your arms over your chest impatiently, you click your tongue. "I remember idiot! I mean why me?"

"For fucks sake — you want the truth?" He chuckles but it's devoid of any humour. "You're new around here so my father is less likely to recognise you, okay?" He downs the rest of his glass, picks up his fork and pokes the cold steak on his plate restlessly, hardly bothering to look you in the face even when you scoff in disbelief.

You bite your lip, voice quiet. "Is this some sort of game?"

You are no stranger to Seokjin's tricks — you watched them play out with your own eyes, more girls than you could count on one hand leaving the restaurant in tears or worse — and something feels funny in your stomach, an instinct that says he has an ulterior motive you just can't put your finger on.

From the corner of your eye you spot Hoseok poking his head into the dining area, eyes merciless as they scan the room in search of you, the tell tale tap of his foot against the ground a giveaway of his growing impatience which makes you duck out of view in fear.

"If this is just one of your sick jokes then congrats," You deadpan. "I could literally lose my job over this."

"What? No!" He seems genuinely surprised at your accusation, exasperated sigh sounding desperate while his eyes bore into yours with a look that says please. "I'll explain everything. Please?"

He winces when your chair scrapes loudly against the tile as you get to your feet with a disbelieving shake of your head. "Sorry but I have a job to do—"

Suddenly Seokjin lets out a gasp and you hear the automatic glass doors zip open. "Ah shit!"

Seokjin's eyes widen with panic but before you can twist to see who has arrived for yourself, you're being pulled back down into the seat opposite him roughly by the elbow.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Seokjin isn't listening, shrugging his jacket down his arms and wrapping the fabric around your shoulders hastily. "Cover your uniform, okay?"

The smell of his expensive cologne fills your senses and a warm hand squeezes your shoulder pleadingly, the glint in his eye replaced with desperation.

For a moment you falter and his face brightens, believing you to be finally convinced. Until you come back to your senses and slap his hand away. "Get off me!"

"Too late." Seokjin murmurs, but before you can shoot him a questioning glance a pair of polished black shoes stop beside you. Your entire body stiffens, aware of a pair of eyes probing the back of your head.

Oh no.

"Seokjin."

An unfamiliar deep voice rumbles beside you and when you dare to look up you're met with the peering face of an older man who you recognise from the Paradise website. There are traces of Seokjin visible in the curve of his mouth and the sharp edge of his jaw and he was probably considered good looking in his youth.

Ah. So this is Mr Kim?

"You lasted longer than fifteen minutes. This must be a new record, son."

Despite their likeness it's hard to believe they are father and son -- the stern frown keeping a pair of thin framed glasses balancing on Seokjin’s father’s nose along with his crisp tailored suit a far cry from the boy sat cross legged opposite you, wine colored shirt unbuttoned too far to be a mistake.

Seokjin plasters a false grin to his mouth and raises his glass towards Mr Kim, as if to toast. "I told you I would try didn't I?"

Mr Kim says nothing, averting his intimidating gaze to you instead. Your mouth dries when he addresses you directly. "What was your name again?"

Shit! Alarm bells sound in your head, instantly regretting coming out here in the first place and getting mixed up in Seokjin's mess.

You swallow thickly, hardly daring to look him in the eye. "It's — uh," Seokjin is signalling at you with an alarmed look, face falling into his palms with a muffled groan when you fail to catch on.  "Y-Y/N. I'm Y/N."

"Is it now?" Mr Kim scratches his chin thoughtfully, humming to himself as he studies your face. Shit, does he recognise you from the kitchen? Are you about to get fired? Your pulse goes into overdrive when his eyes narrow. "I'm sure I remember it being something like—"

"Her middle name!" Seokjin quickly butts in, cutlery clattering onto his plate in his haste to gain his fathers attention. "She goes by her middle name. We were just talking about it actually. Right, Y/N?"

All eyes fall on you again, Seokjin sending you a pleading look, but you don't trust your voice not to waver so you just nod and hide your rosy cheeks by wrapping your lips around rim of the untouched champagne glass.

"Funny middle name." He shrugs, landing an audible slap to Seokjin's back who winces at the hard contact. Mr Kim's eyes seem kinder as they look between you. "I'm proud of you, son. I'm glad you could finally see things from our perspective."

"Sure, dad." Seokjin shrinks away from his fathers touch with a look of distaste. "Now would you do us a favor and leave us to discuss...marriage things?" You choke on your mouthful of bubbly, eyes watering as you try to hold back a spluttering cough.

Thankfully, Mr Kim is already losing interest, flashing Seokjin a thumbs up before striding over to one of the waiters holding a platter of coconut shrimp appetizers and taking a handful for himself.

Watching him gain a safe distance and disappear among a circle of business men at the bar, you finally feel safe to let out the shaky breath you were holding. Seokjin presses his knuckles to his eyes, the vein in his neck protruding with tension.

"What the fuck was that?" He seems to have forgotten your presence, lost in his own thoughts until you rip his jacket from where it sits around your shoulders and throw it into his lap with contempt. Your laugh of disbelief sounds foreign to your own ears, unable to comprehend what actually just happened.

"You're crazy!" You let out breathlessly. "I'm out of here."

Before you can storm off like you want to, Seokjin's hand closes around your wrist and pins you in place.

"Listen, I know you think this is ridiculous but I'm literally about to get on my knees and beg you here. Just do me one more favour." You shoot him a glare and for a second you think he might actually drop to the ground and grovel if you asked him to. "Just one!"

No matter how hard you try to pull away Seokjin is persistent. "Why should I?"

"Because you have a conscience?" He pleads. "The human desire to help others in need?"

"This is crazy—"

"I'll repay you!"

You pause. "How?"

"Undecided." His head tilts in thought. "You need money?"

Disgust courses through your veins. This guy thinks he can buy you? You have encountered some entitled rich guys at Paradise but this has to be the icing on the cake, an unbelievable disconnect from acceptable social discourse — though are you surprised? He doesn't exactly have a reputation for being a good conversation holder for fucks sake, just ask his other dates.

You scoff. "I don't accept bribes. I think we're done here. Good luck with your plan or...whatever."

"Y/N wait—" Something in his voice makes you stop dead this time. An authority. No longer pleading but commanding. "I'll fire you myself right here if you don't help me out just once."

Your heart twists. Part of you knows that whatever Seokjin has in mind will be batshit crazy, if his antics tonight were anything to judge by. It would pain you to do something so demeaning but...you need this job. The decision was practically made for you.

You swivel to face him. He is standing over you now, hands on hips as if he means business. "One favor! That's it!"

He punches the air triumphantly. "You want it in writing or something?" He teases, the glint in his eye back now and taunting as you practically vibrate with a combination of embarrassment and rage.

"Don't push it." You warn. 

"Okay, jeez." He throws his hands up in defense. You are acutely aware of the hysterical giggles coming from the kitchen belonging to none other than Jungkook and Jimin and the way your face burns scarlet as you storm away from Seokjin with fists clenched. "I'll let you know when I need you, sweetheart."

09:04, from unknown: — 10 o clock. meet me outside the archery court. — go to locker 16, key will be in the lock. you'll find everything you need inside

The light of your phone stings your half-open eyes, slumber still clinging to your body as you rub away any remnants of sleep with your knuckles and re-read the strange text over and over again.

Archery? An accidental text to the wrong number, surely?

You glance at the clock next to your bed - the text was sent over twenty minutes ago by now. Whoever the recipient was supposed to be wouldn't have long to get ready.

09:26, you: — huh? who is this?

Before you can even set your phone down and swing your legs out of bed your phone pings, the sound enough to make you wince in your sleepy state.

09:26, unknown: — it's seokjin??? — you know, the guy you're supposed to be marrying?

Excuse you?

All remnants of sleep and/or inner peace are ripped away as soon as you see his name pop up on your homescreen.

"Seokjin?" You splutter out loud. A name you never thought you would have to see again, let alone at this time in the morning.

You scramble into a sitting position, back pressed to the headboard as you grip your bed hair in pure disbelief. The three little dots bounce menacingly at the bottom of the screen as you type and re-type a response. Eventually you settle on something simple and to the point:

09:28, you: — how the fuck did you get this number???

Ping ping. You resist a face palm as you gather the confidence to input your password and read whatever bullshit Seokjin responded with.

09:29, unknown: — i think you're forgetting i own this place — not to brag but ive got connections — anyway, you have half an hour to get your ass over here before my sister arrives.

As you thought - utter bullshit. His sister? It's almost as if Seokjin thinks you are actually dating - or even worse, actually getting hitched.

Wait...he doesn't...does he? You suppress a groan. Why else would he be dragging you out of your apartment to go and shoot arrows at targets with his sister instead of polishing his golf club collection or lounging with self made millionaires or whatever rich things rich guys do.

You are just here to get some culinary experience. To blend into the background like the rest of the employees at Paradise, to focus on making the lives of CEO's and retired business men as easy and as luxurious as possible. Why on earth is he even taking notice of you?

09:30, you: — your sister??

09:30, unknown: — yeah? who'd you think you were arching with? — i don't do sports. — count yourself lucky my mom had to take a rain check

Fuck. His mom?

"Get a grip!" You chastise yourself. You had barely spoken two words to each other before the other night, his existence unbeknownst to yours let alone yours to his; the exchange itself a glitch in the simulation and definitely not something which you wanted to make a habit - so why are you instilled with nerves at the thought of meeting this guy's family?

You don't have time to respond with a harsh reminder of your respective positions at Paradise and why this is absolutely a Bad Idea before Seokjin sends a series of reassuring follow up texts, almost as though he read your mind and all it's reluctant thoughts.

09:32, unknown: — don't worry so much this is just to make people think we're really seeing each ohter — other* — hurry, can't have people thinking my future wife isn't punctual — doesn't look good for the reputation 😎

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck!

This is actually happening. How did you manage to get roped into some rich dudes family drama and his consequent plan of deception? And why on earth you fly out of bed, desperately trying to pat down your fly away bed hair while simultaneously shrugging on a pair of jeans is utterly beyond you.

But deep down you know why. It's because you have a sympathy for Seokjin. A goddamn sympathy for the man who seemingly had everything and who every other resident at Paradise wished they could be.

You are increasingly aware of the way your heart hammers against your rib cage, pulse quickening with every tick of the clock that brings you closer to 10 o clock. Not because you're about to see Seokjin again, surely?

Pfft. Of course not! This is just a favour - a formality as an acquaintance if you could even call yourself that.

The clock ticks over to 09:40. No, you promise yourself as you scoop up your bag and your keys. It's doesn’t mean anything, it’s just because you hate being late.

You end up being late anyway, despite rushing to Paradise from your nearby apartment without so much as considering breakfast and somehow managing to gather the courage to open the door to the women's locker room.

Embarrassment pools in your stomach when you feel the quizzical eyes of Paradise regulars burning into your back over the edges of their martini glasses. It takes all your strength to pass by them with your eyes trained to your shoes, hoping to seem unbothered by their towel turbans and gossiping lips.

You’re unsure why you feel so out of place. It's not as if you are trespassing; they gave you a benefits card when you accepted the job, giving you access to some of the resort's facilities. Some would say it was generous, but it's not as if you ever had a chance to use them in between long kitchen shifts.

Luckily, you doubt there's a risk of them recognising you from the kitchen. The resort is mostly populated by younger club members and besides it's not as if they ever cared to study your face for long enough to commit it to memory.

Still, your casual sweater and jeans combo makes you stand out like a sore thumb in a room full of designer polo shirts and athletic wear and you can't suppress the sigh of relief that escapes you when you make it past a hoard of already merry day drinkers on their way to a hot yoga class in search of locker 16 as instructed by Seokjin.

Sure enough, a key sits snugly in the lock. When you open the metal door you find a tennis skirt with a matching polo shirt, both folded neatly beneath a pair of strikingly white sneakers.

You scoop the pile into your arms, surprised when a card flutters to the ground. You recognise the Paradise logo in the corner, an unfamiliar handwritten scrawl smudged across the front in black pen.

Put these on and meet me round the back of the range. I'll be waiting. - SJ

You roll your eyes. Would it kill him to say please? Not that he is used to asking nicely. Manners are few and far between when things are handed to you on a silver platter (or by an underpaid kid with a summer job). At least that's what you gathered from your observations since you got here.

You slip into the white ensemble, silently thanking the you from yesterday for shaving your legs when you notice just how uncomfortably short the skirt is. The fabric smells like one of those expensive perfumes you sprayed at the store once and you briefly wonder who these clothes belong to.

Fastening your hair into a high pony tail like you see the other girls here do, you take a deep breath and finally sidle up to the full body mirror.

Almost everyone has filtered out of the locker room by now, some to spa appointments, others to sports matches and you find yourself alone, nearly choking on the humid air when you take in your appearance for the first time.

You look like you belong here.

Collar popped around your neck, skirt falling in perfect pleats around your waist, hair falling against your cheekbones. Not a speck of dirt on the branded shoes cushioning your soles.

For a moment you feel a sense of pride fill your chest, head resting high on your shoulders as you bask in the confidence that washes over you until you feel giddy with belonging.

Until you remember what you really are. An imposter.

Despite your Paradise inspired appearance you are nothing but a fake. A smudge on one of the picture perfect Paradise postcard's in the gift shop.

Your shoulders deflate, the sudden urge to tug your sweater back on and run as fast as you can becoming overwhelming.

Your let yourself slump onto one of the plush couches, head falling into your hands. What are you doing here? Letting some guy dress you up like a doll and show you off to save his own ass?

Besides, his family would see through you as soon as you walked out there. After all a polished stone, although pretty, can never be a diamond. And these people know diamonds like the back of their hands.

Is it because he has the authority to fire you from the kitchen job you worked so hard to get? Or is it because somewhere deep inside you are curious to see what could be in this for you?

A vibration on the couch beside you draws you from your thoughts.

10:09, unknown: — where r u????? — you know where the range is right???

God, why didn't you just say no in the first place?

"Just get on with it," you tell yourself sternly. Meet his sister, smile politely and leave without owing Kim Seokjin a single thing.

You will save his ass, buy him the time he needs to convince his parents to get off his back. And then you can go back to your culinary uniform and back to serving up lobster to rich people and you can forget this ever happened and that he so much as exists.

With a shaky breath you get to your feet, throwing your familiar clothes into the locker along with your comfort zone and what feels like your entire identity.

If this is going to work you couldn't think like Y/N, you realise. You have to think like a Paradise country club member. And luckily for you, your careful observation of other residents from the kitchen gives you quite a lot of material to work with.

Before you can second guess yourself you're taking a deep breath and striding out of the locker room door and into the sunny resort grounds.

Oh god. I'm really doing this. You suddenly feel exposed as you pass the golf court, just managing to dodge a rattling cart before it flattened you.

A pair of girls stroll past with arms interlinked, tennis rackets swinging at their sides leisurely as they make their way to the course.

Oh god. They're gonna see through you. Oh god. Just smile!

You let the corners of your mouth curve up into the closest thing to a smile you can muster, pleased when you earn a friendly nod in greeting before they dive back into their conversation again.

Nobody is noticing. You hold your head high, telling your shoulders to relax and look natural. You can do this.

You reach the range but instead of following the group of middle aged men ahead of you up to the front entrance, you slip round the back. Your eyes land on him instantly; none other than Kim Seokjin, leaning impatiently against the wall, just like he said he would be.

His appearance is enough to have you faltering in your tracks. Unlike the last time you saw him when he donned a much less flattering eye sore of a Hawaiian shirt, he's put together from head to toe - white button up tucked into a pair of tailored trousers, brown loafers showing off his ankles, the whole outfit finished off by a knit sweater tied around his shoulders.

"Wow." You can't help it. You're starting to see why he had a reputation for being particularly easy on the eye.

You swallow thickly, shaking the stunned feeling from your head and ignoring the way your heart beats a little faster the closer you draw to him.

"Finally!" Seokjin hums as he lets out a frustrated huff, eyes glued to the Rolex on his wrist. "Where have you been-"

His breath hitches when he finally looks up and takes you in for the first time. You were surely imagining the way his eyes widen and look you up and down. Right?

"Well well," Seokjin regains his self control quickly, licking his lips. "Someone scrubs up well."

Smartass. "To my credit you've only ever seen me in my work clothes."

"Touché." He purses his lips. "Nobody could make those hats look good. Except me, obviously."

There is that glint in his eye again. As if he is messing with you to get you riled up again. If he wasn't the Kim Seokjin you'd mistake him as flirtatious.

You hug your torso, confidence dwindling with every second you stand beneath Seokjin's probing gaze, anxious to get out onto the range before it dissipates completely. "So? Are we just gonna stand here?"

"You turn up late and then have the audacity to order me around?" His eyebrows furrow and for a second you think he's going to warn you. Remind you who has the power here.

But then his face breaks out into an amused smirk and you let out the breath you didn't know you were holding. "Remember when I said I think you and I are going to get along just fine?"

Seokjin slings his hands into his pockets, striding towards the back door of the facility. He shakes the handle before using his key card to let you both into the archery equipment lodge.

You trail behind him. "Don't get too comfortable," You warn. "This is a one time thing."

Seokjin muses over a selection of crossbows in display cases before fishing in his pocket for a key, unlocking the glass and taking down two flashy ones. He grabs a quiver loaded with arrows from a stand and thrusts both into your arms without warning.

"Sure." He is slinging a quiver over his own shoulder now. He holds open the door to the archery range, gesturing for you to go first. So now he has manners? "If you say so."

The archery range is an expanse of perfectly pruned green grass, surrounded by the breathtaking scenery of fragrant rose bushes and trailing ivy that the resort boasts. And, as you're learning, an excuse for refreshments, as you find yourself now in a fancy veranda bar with high arching windows that overlook the distant targets, serving chilled lemonade and Prosecco and appetisers on fancy napkins.

"Pretty cool, right?" Seokjin asks, resting his elbows on the windowsill and smirking at your speechlessness and open mouthed expression. "But quit looking so surprised, yeah? You gotta make my sister think this is normal for you."

You don't have time to ask what he means before you are being spun around and engulfed in a hug. You freeze, sucking in a breath of surprise, the sickly smell of fancy shampoo engulfing your senses as your face is pushed into a head of perfect ringlets.

"You must be Y/N." The person, a woman, purrs into your ear. "It's good to finally meet you." The way she draws out the word makes you nervous.

This is Seokjin's sister?

Something about it doesn't feel how a hug is supposed to. Instead it feels like a silent interrogation. Are you good enough to be one of us? Nothing about it is warm. Instead it's sticky, your hands patting her back awkwardly, counting the seconds in your head until it is acceptable to pull away from her stiff hold.

When she lets go you are met with the tight lipped smile of a pretty twenty something, eyes scanning your face from beneath a sun visor. A customised hot pink quiver drapes across her shoulder and you notice the way she eyes your borrowed equipment distastefully.

"That would be me." You force a smile that ends up being a little too wide, glancing nervously at Seokjin who simply nods  in encouragement. "It's good to...finally meet you too?"

She holds you at arms length, giving you a once over before speaking tightly. "Well aren't you a doll?"

You must look as terrified as you feel because her eyebrows raise triumphantly. Seokjin senses the tension. He looks between the two of you almost worriedly, searching your face for any sign of discomfort. For a second you think his concern is kind of sweet...No! Not allowed.

"No hug for me?" Seokjin swoops in and his sister's features harden at his sarcastic tone, a punch landing on his shoulder which he pretends to rub better, emitting a small ow!

"You're late."

"Sorry Hyejin, couldn't find my best shoes." Seokjin throws an arm around your shoulders, pulling you from her grasp a little protectively and flashing an award winning smile that makes your heart flip...No! Definitely not allowed.

"Those are your best shoes?" She grimaces, shaking her head with an air of disappointment. "You left me waiting here for half an hour for those?" Her eyes narrow at you accusingly, as if she knows the truth and wants you to offer an apology.

Seokjin is quick to save you again. "Yup. All my fault. Shall we shoot?"

"Gladly." She smooths down a stray curl, studying her reflection in the glass windows. "I've been itching to see Y/N's aim since I got here. I hear you are a pro, no?"

You choke. A pro?

Luckily she's already stalking across the deck in her click-clacking wedges and out onto the damp green grass, missing the panicked glance shared between yourself and Seokjin.

"Uh-"

"Um-"

Seokjin shrugs his shoulders. Think of something, he mouths.

She stops dead, shooting a puzzled glance over her shoulder. "Well are you?"

"Not exactly-" You start.

"I think you're thinking of one of the other...candidates, Hyejin." Seokjin says carefully. He places his palm at the small of your back. The gesture was probably just for show but it comforts you none the less.

"I'm sure she's just being modest." She says to Seokjin, but she's looking right at you. Her forefinger taps against her palm and you can almost see the puzzle pieces falling together in her head before her expression smooths out and you let out a sigh of relief. "So. Shall we?"

Seokjin nods sheepishly. Hyejin slings an arrow into her bow with the ease of an expert, Seokjin quickly following suit. And it is in that moment, as you watch them shoot equally as precise shots to the centre of their respective targets, that it dawns on you. You have never shot a bow and arrow in your life.

"Let's see just how good you are." Hyejin steps back, offering you the main stage. You squint at the targets in the far distance, the rings blurring into one. How on earth did they make hitting those things look so easy?

"Sure thing." You wince at the strain in your voice as you fumble to pull an arrow from your quiver, fingers shaking as you try to sling it into the bow.

You can do this..

You lift the bow, close your eyes and hope for the best when you let go of the arrow, watching as it flies a short distance before sticking upright in the dirt just short of the target.

Cheeks scarlet, you glance at Hyejin who looks positively horrified. "When you said not exactly good I wasn't expecting you to be so...inexperienced. No personal trainer?" She muses, eyeing you quizzically, to which you shoot her an embarrassed smile in confirmation. "Anybody would think it was your first time!" You sheepishly giggle along to the hearty chuckle she enjoys at the mere thought, spluttering when her face suddenly darkens "It's not right?"

You freeze. "Uhhh..."

"It's just nerves," Seokjin insists, palms clamping your shoulders and thrusting you forward again. "She's probably just shitting it because you're watching."

"Language!" Hyejin scolds, letting the roll of Seokjin's eyes slip when she sees you fiddling with another arrow.

This time you prepare the bow with ease, a bout of confidence washing over you as you make eye contact with Seokjin over the top of the bow you raise to your shoulder. His eyes soften slightly and he offers an encouraging nod as you squint at the target and shoot the arrow straight into the centre ring.

You're momentarily shocked at your own abilities before Seokjin is letting out a genuinely impressed hoot, his hand coming between you to offer a sly high five unbeknownst to Hyejin. A silent congratulations for not completely fucking up.

"Pretty good." Hyejin nods, looking genuinely impressed, and you give yourself a silent pat on the back.

Holy shit. This is really working! She believes you belong here!

"Although I'm not sure where father got the idea of professional from with that technique," She lowered her voice, clearly only intending for Seokjin to hear the last part despite you standing beside her. "I must admit her figure seems better suited to tennis anyway..."

Or not. Maybe you still have some work to do...

Hyejin seems in a hurry to get to the next target, and Seokjin hangs back to whisper in your ear before you follow.

"Congrats," He hums with a smirk. "You fit right in. Welcome to Paradise, Y/N."

The next forty five minutes pass quicker than you expect.

"— and I said, 'How could you seat the Jeon's next to the Jung's when you know they're feuding about the business contract'?" Hyejin exclaims. "Scandalous."

"Scandalous." You reply with a bored attempt at enthusiasm, raising your eyebrows at Seokjin over the rim of your glass as you sip cloudy lemonade through a straw. To his credit he looks equally as exhausted with Hyejin's spiel, shaking his knee impatiently as he itches for an opportunity to pounce.

As Hyejin continues to make mildly interrogative small talk and you find it increasingly easier to think on the spot when she asks about your family's (imaginary) dynasty and the university degree in economics you (supposedly) possess, you start to feel more comfortable. But Seokjin still refuses to loosen the arm resting around your shoulders keeping you planted by his side all afternoon, as if he is nervous his sister might swoop down like a bird and take you away at any moment, like a toddler with a toy.

That's why when she suggests a trip to the little girls room to powder your noses, Seokjin throws you a reluctant look. He protests at first when you readily agree (hoping to splash some cold water on your face to cool the constant burn that seems to have settled into your every pore) and he still looks concerned, knee bouncing nervously, when you peel yourself away from his body and disappear into the bar a few steps behind Hyejin who doesn't seem interested in side by side small talk.

In fact, you use the bathroom in silence and she doesn't speak another word until you catch her gaze in the mirror as she emerges from a cubicle behind you.

"You might have my little brother fooled but I see right through you, you know." She sets down her cosmetics bag on the sink, retrieving an expensive tube of lipstick and swiping the pinkish colour over her lips nonchalantly.

The tap stops running over your soaped up hands as you try to curb the nausea her words induce. Does she know who you are? Who you really are?

Despite the shake to your voice you try to play it cool. "W-what do you mean?"

Hyejin's laugh is small and tight, nothing about it humorous at all. Her eyes never leave her reflection, fluffing up her curls with an air of superiority. "I see through parasites like you straight away."

Your mouth falls agape with astonishment. "Parasites?"

"You should know that I have people all over this place who will find out exactly why you came here." For the first time she turns to look you dead in the eye, a bitter smile lacing her lips smugly. She is eye level but it feels like she is towering above you. "What is it you want? Money?"

"No I—"

"Just wait." Hyejin slings her bag over her shoulder triumphantly, voice getting smaller as her heels click across the tiles to the door. She pauses, poking her head back into the room as if burdened with an after thought. "You could do with some more mascara, by the way, darling. Would make you look much prettier."

And then she's gone, leaving you to watch her hips swaying into the distance with hands dripping dry onto the ground.

By the time you calm your nerves enough to emerge from the bathroom looking semi-confident, Hyejin is already ordering another drink and Seokjin is straining his neck to search for you anxiously.

Even from a few meters away you can see the way he sighs with relief when he spots you approaching. It didn't last for long though as he must notice the slightly reddened rings around yours eyes that weren't there before and before you can give him a watery smile in greeting, he is on his feet.

"What happened?"

You bite your lip. "Seokjin, I think I need to go."

"I knew this would happen. Did she try and get in your head?" You nod and his face darkens. "I was an idiot bringing you here."

"It's fine, I shouldn't have agreed, you stay and I'll just go—"

"Right!" Seokjin makes a show of slapping his palms to his knees, practically jumping to his feet and dragging you up with him by your elbow, only a hare away from spilling the drink in your hands. "Sorry to cut this short but I think it's time for Y/N and I to be going."

Hyejin looks positively furious at the suggestion of saying goodbye, gesturing towards the bucket of ice in the centre of the table you had inhabited after your arms began to hurt from holding the archery bow. "But we haven't even opened the Champagne yet, Jin-"

"Oh I don't day drink." You wave her off, biting your lip with instant regret when you see how her face hardens.

"Sorry Hyejin but there really just isn't enough time," Seokjin insists, reaching for your bag to save you the trouble, slinging it across your shoulder and pushing you by the shoulders towards the exit. It's not like you have a choice in the matter but you have to admit you are relieved the whole fiasco is finished. "Send my best wishes to Wonho and Minhye!"

"Minhyuk." Hyejin splutters as she staggers to her feet, chair scraping obscenely. "Your nephew's name is Minhyuk!"

"Good to know!" Seokjin calls over his shoulder, already speed walking into the lobby before you can make out her response.

When Seokjin decides there is enough distance between you and the range he drops his arm from where it drapes around your shoulders. You didn't realise it was there until it was already gone, a cold emptiness settling over you. Why had it felt so natural?

He lets out a deep sigh of relief. "Thank god that's over with. I thought she would never stop talking."

You snort in agreement. "I've never told so many lies in my life."

"I find that hard to believe." Seokjin smirks when you slap his arm playfully. "It came too easily to you."

"It's your fault! Your deceptive ways are rubbing off on me!"

"Deceptive ways?" Seokjin splutters, a genuine laugh spilling from his lips. Heartier and much different to the strained chuckles he's been giving Hyejin all day. You decide by the way your heart lurches that you like it much better. "I'll have you know I never lie."

"You're joking right?" Surely he is aware that it was him that roped you into this identity fraud master plan in the first place? The smirk on his face says yes. It's your turn to laugh, mimicking his earlier tone. "I find that hard to believe."

"Then ask me a question and I'll tell you the honest truth and nothing but the truth."

"Uhh okay?" You pause, mulling over all the questions you really want to ask. Why did you choose me? Does this make us friends? Are you gonna look through me again at the restaurant when this whole thing is over?  Before you sheepishly settle on something more appropriate.

"How much is the resort worth? It must be a lot if you would go to all this...trouble."

"Five hundred."

"Five hundred thousand?"

"You're coy. Of course not." He chuckles. "Million."

Oh. Well now everything makes sense.

"Come on, ask me another." Seokjin bumps his shoulder against yours playfully, hair falling in his eyes that you’re desperate to push away. Your cheeks burn. "What's on your mind, kitchen girl?"

Don't say it...don't say it...

"D-did your sister hate me?"

Too late. The question slips out before you can stop it and you slap a hand over your mouth in shock.

He narrows his eyes. "Why do you want to know?"

Why do you want to know? It's not like any of this really mattered - it wasn't real after all. So why does your stomach twist when you remember the spiteful way Hyejin spoke to you?

You flash a sheepish smile. "J-just interested."

Your ego was just bruised that's all. It was natural to feel bad when someone didn't like you, right?

"Then yes."

Oh.

Your chest clenches for no reason. Maybe he really never lies after all, huh?

Seokjin must notice the way you pout. "It's not personal! That's just how she is. Honestly, out of all the candidates so far you're the one she hated the least..."

You snort. "Good to know?"

You come to a stop outside the locker room doors. You don't know what to say - what is left? Goodbye? Thank you?

You're probably never going to speak to him again, true; but goodbye feels too formal. Too real. Instead you stay quiet, the sound of cicadas and balls hitting racquets filling the silence as Seokjin’s chocolate brown eyes make you weak at the knees when they darken, his body drawing ever closer to yours.

"Aren't you gonna ask how I plan on repaying you?"

Seokjin's fingers wrap around your elbow before you can slip away and you gasp at how his skin burns yours. You swallow thickly. The light bounces off his face dazzlingly and you have to admit he looks good right now, with his shirt unbuttoned lazily and his bitten lips inches from yours.

"I-I forgot about that." You admit. Sure you had been uptight about this whole idea initially but you couldn't deny the fact that today had been kinda fun. Did you really need a reward? Maybe you'd got a little lost in pretending to be someone else. So what?

"Well," Seokjin draws closer until your back presses against the wall, his breath hot next to your ear. "I have something in mind."

Your pulse quickens when you feel his hand rest upon your hip, the rise and fall of his chest so close that you get tingles down your spine.

You swallow the lump in your throat. "W-what is it?"

His chuckle is warm against your sensitive neck and you shudder when his lips ghost over your skin, so so close. "Can I show you?"

"Sure." You breathe.

And then he takes you by the chin, lining up your mouths and crashing them together in a hot tangle of tongue and teeth, his chapped lips moving against yours with an urgency. Your arms snake around his neck, tangling in the hair at his nape and pulling him into you with a thump.

Before your eyes can flutter shut and your heart can get lost in the feeling of his teeth pulling at your bottom lip and the taste of sour lemonade that still lingers on his tongue, Seokjin pulls back with a smirk, eyes dropping to your parted lips and then back to your blown out eyes with a satisfaction.

He runs a knuckle down your cheek. You feel your legs weaken.  "I want you."

The huskiness in his voice makes your head spin, chest burning with the desire to connect your lips again. But you resist.

"Why?" You squeeze your eyes shut, head lolling back against the wall to avoid his gaze, embarrassed at how shaky your voice sounds after one kiss. God, you're weak. "Why me?"

"Like I said," Seokjin's fingers trace down your sides, eyes darkening when he notices the way the light touch makes you shiver under him. "I want you. Have since I first saw you."

He wants you? What about all those other girls, the ones he sent running? The ones who were much more suited to him than you would ever be?

"So what?" You scoff, biting your lip to stop a needy gasp when he presses a bold kiss to your jaw. "Want to add me to the list of girls who — mmf — w-who you seduced?"

He pauses, lips pressed against your burning skin for a little longer while he registers your words. "Maybe." He resumes his earlier actions, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear. "Is that so bad?"

"I can't do this." You bite your lip. This wasn't supposed to happen. You weren't intending on letting Seokjin get to you, didn't mean to become a mark in his black book or a notch in his bed post.

"Why not?" He presses his forehead to yours. Your breath hitches and you will the warm tingle in your stomach to go away. "I saw you checking me out on the range."

The way he grins tells you that you hadn't been so subtle after all.

"And besides," Seokjin grips your ass through your skirt, making you gasp to his satisfaction. "This way, I get to pay you back and have some fun of my own."

"H-how?" You can feel yourself slipping. Into his touch, into his words.

"By making you cum." That had your panties damp and he knew it, the heat between your legs distracting you from the way he groans against your lips when your hips buck into him involuntarily.

It's like he knows what you need, slotting his leg between your own and putting pressure on the growing ache in your core. "I know you want this too."

He's right, the way the cotton of your panties has begun to cling to your folds a tell tale sign of your arousal. Seokjin knew exactly how to make you putty in his hands. Every teasing touch of his lips to your neck, every feather light trace of his fingers has him chuckling darkly when you melt into his body, unable to resist the way he makes your core ache needily for his touch.

"Come on, I can make you feel good." Your breath hitches when fingers toy with the hem of your skirt. "If I just lift this up..."

Oh god. If you don't stop now it'll be too late...

His hand slips beneath your skirt, pads of his fingers hooking your sodden panties to the side, the flash of cold air against your needy folds making you whine into the crook of his neck. "P-please."

You feel him smirk against your hair, speaking with a tone so sickly sweet you would've rolled your eyes if your clit wasn't already pulsating for his touch. "Please what?"

"Make me cum."

"I knew you would come round." He pulls back to face you, drinking in the expression on your face which you presume is utterly fucked out. You have to admit the way his own irises have darkened with what you recognise as lust makes your stomach leap in anticipation. "So desperate for me already hm?"

You whine, somewhat in confirmation, somewhat in frustration at his refusal to touch you even when you buck against his hand. "Please."

"I wouldn't have put you down as the begging type." His hand suddenly cups your heat, pads of his fingers circling your entrance teasingly. He lets out a choked groan when he feels your arousal. "This wet for me? Already?"

"What do you expect?" You stammer, squeezing his shoulders and holding back on the urge to buck against his palm again. "You've got your hand up my skirt."

"Mmm, I could just make you come undone right here." His eyes darken, tongue snaking out to wet his chapped lips hungrily. "Could easily fuck you out nice and slow with my fingers if I wanted to, hmm?" Seokjin has begun to circle your entrance teasingly, making you squirm every time he nearly slips inside.

"Fuck." Your eyes are squeezed shut, breathing already laboured despite him barely even touching you, just the thought of him filling you up getting you dangerously worked up. "I want you to."

"What was that?" Seokjin's lips curve up mischievously, one of his fingers nearly filling you up before he removes his hand and you groan with frustration. "Gotta use your words sweetheart."

Your heart thumps at the use of the pet name but you choose to ignore it, instead reaching between your bodies to clasp his wrist before it disappears completely. "Fuck me," you pant, eyes roaming his with desperation. His staunch gaze never falters. "Please, fuck me now."

Seokjin connects your swollen lips again, but not before mumbling against them gruffly. "Remember you asked for it."

Then, his free hand to spreads your legs, knee stopping them from closing as his other hand closes in on your aching core. The feeling of his digits running down your soaked slit has you panting and you feel your legs buckle when he pressed two of his lithe fingers into your heat without warning. You are dripping by now, hole accommodating the stretch and allowing his fingers to slip inside easily.

Your clit pulsates with need and you want to feel Seokjin everywhere, have him take you in any way he wants, momentarily lost to the feeling of his fingers pumping in and out of your heat; until you remember that you have Seokjin's hand down your pants in broad daylight and anyone could walk by and see just how weak he makes you.

"Wait!" He halts his ministrations, raising a brow. "W-we can't, not here."

You mewl when his thumb ghosts across your swollen clit, touch light but enough to have you gasping into the crook of his neck.

"Let's take this inside, then." Before you can ask what he means his fingers disappear, leaving your hole clenching agonisingly around nothing again. He presses the arousal coated digits to your lips and you enjoy the way his jaw tightens as you eagerly take them into your hot mouth, humming when you taste yourself on your own tongue. "Fuck you'll drive me crazy if you keep this up."

You can tell you are getting to him, even if he is trying to hide it. The way his eyes roll back when you suck his fingers clean, how he bites his cheek to stop a lustful groan when his eyes dip between your bodies to your almost naked heat tells you all you needed to know.

He can't take it any longer.

Seokjin pulls his hand away with a wet pop, your throbbing heat protesting when he let your legs fall shut, linking his clammy hand with your own. "Come with me."

It takes a second to remember how to walk, letting him pull you behind him in your dizzy haze. His hand is warm in yours and your entire body aches to feel them on you again. It's already too late to hide your swollen lips and slightly mussed up hair before Seokjin drags you right into the men's locker room .

"Wait, we can't do it in here—"

"Everyone out!" Seokjin's voice bellows through the locker room, all its inhabitants pausing their ministrations to peer at you curiously.

You try to let go of Seokjin's hand to button up your shirt but he won't let you, squeezing your hand reassuringly as you hide behind him self consciously, knees knocking. "We need to use the locker room."

A groan erupts through the room, a chorus of again? permeating the sound of lockers slamming shut with frustration before one by one all the dudes in the locker room began to shuffle past you to the exit.

"Seokjin!" You hiss, standing on your tiptoes to whisper in his ear angrily. "Now everyone knows!"

Seokjin's thumb rubs across your knuckles soothingly. "Who cares?"

You feel your cheeks flush hotly when a man you recognise from the restaurant, now wearing nothing but a towel, narrows his eyes in a knowing look. You willed the ground to swallow you up.

The sound of footsteps ceases, the door swings closed and finally you're alone.

"Better?" Seokjin turns to you expectantly.

"I can't believe you just did that!" You cover your face with your palms. "God how am I going to look any of them in the eyes again."

"They don't care." He soothes, your unamused expression not faltering still.

"Are you even allowed to do that? W-What if they tell someone—"

"They won't," Seokjin smirks. "They value their memberships here too much."

You bite your lip. "Maybe we shouldn't do this."

Seokjin rushes forward to cup your face in his palms reassuringly. The act feels a little too sincere and you nearly melt at the intimacy, resisting copying his motion by pinching your palm instead. "It's okay, seriously! They're just jealous that I get lucky more around here than any of the old bastards have in their entire lives."

"I don't believe you." Your words are muffled by his chest, his chuckle vibrating against your cheek.

"They're jealous because they'll never get this lucky."

"Huh?" Seokjin's hands slide down the small of your back to cup your ass, lifting your entire weight so that your legs wrap around his waist. You let out a giggle of surprise when his face comes into view, smirking up at you.

"Lucky enough to get someone as pretty as you underneath them."

There they are again, the butterflies in your stomach, the skip of a beat in your heart, a warmth spreading through your chest that feels too good to question right now. "Technically I'm above you." You mumble. "Besides they were all, like, fifty years old or something."

"Just shut up would you?" Seokjin stumbles forward, throwing you roughly onto one of the couches. The fabric feels like velvet when your nails clutch at it desperately, trying to hold on to whatever control you have left when Seokjin drops to his knees between your legs to hover over you. "And kiss me for fucks sake."

You oblige, pulling him by the collar to connect your lips in a kiss even more heated than before if that was even possible. His tongue runs along your bottom lip, begging for entrance and you sigh contentedly into the kiss when he pulls your face even closer with his palms.

"F-fuck." He pulls back with a pop, hands roaming along the tops of your thighs too teasingly for you to handle. By now you're so worked up that you just needed him to take you roughly, the thought of his cock pounding in and out of you making you moan when you feel his bulge brush your leg. God you want him more than you knew it was possible, the way your clit pulses at the thought of how good it would feel to come around him or better yet feel him come inside you overwhelming.

"Seokjin, p-please fuck me." You practically whine, letting your head fall against the couch cushion when his thumbs fiddle with the lace of your panties. "Wanna feel you inside me."

The sound that comes from his throat seems strangled. "Fuck, what did I say about driving me crazy?"

"Need you so bad," You rotate your hips to emphasise your desperation, the action providing you with no relief when his steel like grip prevents you from putting any pressure on your dripping folds. "Wanna cum for you."

You blink up at him through your lashes and you swear you see his adam's apple bob as he swallows a moan. He liked it when you provoked him, you could tell. His resolve is crumbling with every word out of your mouth.

"Please, I'm so wet." Fuck, you are. You can feel it dripping down your ass, probably making a mess of the couch below you. You hope it can be dry cleaned. "Just fuck me now—mmf!"

Seokjin shuts you up with a hard press of his lips to yours, the action conveying he's just as desperate as you, the way his hands trembled telling you he isn't as unaffected as he wants to appear.

His breathing is nearly as ragged as yours now. "You like riling me up don't you?"

He runs a shaky hand through his hair exasperatedly and you look up at him hopeful, willing him to touch you, kiss you, anything.

"I'm not going to fuck you."

Oh.

You stiffen beneath him, his words shocking you still.

He doesn't want you. Simple as that.

This was just another one of his games and you fell straight into it. You close your eyes and braced for him to start laughing. To point his finger and tell you how lame you are for ever thinking that someone like him could want someone like you.

Except nothing comes. Just the sound of your shaky breaths and a shower running nearby.

"Why?" Your voice is small now and you draw your knees to your chest, trying to hide as much from him as possible. "You don't want to?"

He looks dismayed at your suggestion, palms shooting out to push you back down and pull you back into his hold again.

"It's not that, Y/N." You let out a relieved breath, not fighting Seokjin when his forehead falls against your chest in defeat, heavy breaths ghosting across the tops of your breasts. You're sure he can feel the way your heart beats uncontrollably in your chest.

"Then why?" You bite your lip. You sound too needy, to whiny. Why do you even care if he wants you or not? This is a one off anyway.

"God, I want nothing more than to strip you and see you bounce on my cock right here"

Oh.

Seokjin's lips attach to your neck, sucking harshly like a man deprived, as though he can't hold back any longer. His hands roam everywhere they can reach, rubbing your breasts over your shirt before his fingers work on the buttons eagerly.

"S-Seokjin..."

"Would give anything to see you come undone on my cock. Bet you'd moan so pretty when I pound you, yeah?"

Truth be told you'd let him right now if he said the word, the thought of him stretching you out making you see stars before he has even properly touched you. Your core is hot and sticky against your panties while you clench around nothing while his every word makes you writhe to be filled. "Then w-why don't you?"

"Because there's plenty of time for that, princess." He flashes you a smile. Plenty of time? Why did he make it sound as if this wasn't a one time thing? As if you'd be back for more? "This is for you remember? Gotta pay you back."

You yelp when Seokjin lifts your ass, thumbs finally dragging your panties down your legs and throwing them behind him before he spreads your legs with a hunger. "Let me taste you, hm?"

Seokjin pushes your skirt around your waist, exposing your core to his hungry eyes, drinking in how you look all spread out for him. Just the sight of him so close to your dripping heat makes the coil in your stomach tighten and you're sure you could cum just from the way his lips part in anticipation.

He looks up at you for confirmation, smirking when you nod your head before falling back against the couch weakly when he drags a finger down your slit teasingly, licking his lips when you mewl at the brief contact with your clit. "So pretty."

He sinks back against his heels, cheek warm against your inner thigh, hot breath caressing your clit. A moan escapes you at the feeling much to his amusement, his bruising grip on your thighs stopping you from bucking up. "Hurry up — mmf — please."

For the first time he listens to your request, skipping the teasing to run a long stripe up your soaking slit. Seokjin groans against your clit and you quiver, his staggered breaths hot against your dripping folds. "Taste so good, sweetheart."

"S-Seokjin," Hands spread your legs as far as they cN go and then plump lips engulf your clit, sucking with a perfect harshness that makes your legs shake and your head fall back with a gasp, hands tangling in his blonde locks tightly enough to have him groaning blissfully. "Fingers!"

The breathiness of your voice makes him chuckle against your heat, vibrations enough to have your knees straining to close around his head, the pressure between them almost too much. "What was that?"

"Fingers," You reiterate, aware of how fucked out you soundjust from feeling his tongue on your clit, every teasing flick making your entrance pulse. "Inside me, now."

"No please?" The drag of Seokjin's flat tongue down your slit to prod at your hole is sinful, the way he took to fucking you with his tongue teasingly drawing small whimpers from your lips. It's mesmerising how he knows just how to make you fall apart.

"P-please!"

The gentle brush of his nose against your clit nearly has you coming on the spot. "Turn over." He growls against your mound. An arm wraps around your waist and before you can protest his mouth leaving your heat, you are being flipped onto your hands and knees, Seokjin's palm pushing your head down against your forearms so that your ass comes up for his viewing pleasure. "That's more like it."

"F-fuck." It feels dirty being on display for him like this, dripping wet and wiggling your hips, desperate for friction against your spread folds. Pressing your cheek to the couch, you catch a glimpse of Seokjin's expression as he takes you in, eyes black with desire, lips still coated in your sticky arousal.

"Shit." His breath hitches. "Such a pretty pussy, hm?"

It's your turn to take a shaky inhale when a single finger circles your entrance, Seokjin humming approvingly when you clench hopelessly around nothing. Knowing you are so close to being filled even with a single finger gets you panting, circling your hips and trying to sink down onto the digit that smears your wetness through your folds lewdly. Seokjin pulls his hand away with a click of his tongue.

"That desperate to be filled, baby?" His tone is taunting, followed by a chuckle when you whine at the way his words make your clit throb. "Fuck, such a slut, dripping wet for just my fingers."

He reaches around to press the pad of his finger against your lips and you suck it instinctively, humming when you taste yourself, some of your sticky arousal smearing on your chin. Seokjin's head rolls back, the visual practically sending him into sensory overload.

"Such a slut," A loud slap fills the room, a palm landing flat against your upturned ass, the sensation making you cry out in surprise. His breath is hot and ragged against your ear. "You like that?"

Despite the embarrassed shake of your head another smack lands to the flesh of your other cheek with enough force to leave a mark this time. It stings when he rubs his calloused hands over the reddening skin that is now burning hot where it collided with his palm but the pain quickly dissipates to pleasure and you bite your hand to stop from moaning out too lewdly. "Use your words, princess."

"Seokjin!" You can't hold back from whining his name when his palm lands straight on your heat, the sharp pain a somehow welcome relief when he instantly rubbed a few soothing circles into your folds with the pads of his fingers, each graze of your clit making your legs shake uncontrollably. "I-I need more."

"This?" Without warning he presses two fingers into your pussy, entrance squeezing around him wildly at the pleasant stretch. Every flick of his wrist permeates through the locker room with a loud squelch, testament of just how worked up you were.

"Ugh!" Every drag of his fingers against your velvety walls has your eyes rolling back, the way he curls the digits with every thrust hitting your sweet spot perfectly, like he knew exactly how to drive you crazy. "S-so good."

You are starting to get out of breath, meeting his thrusts by rocking back against his hand and this time he doesn't protest, encouraging you by kneading the flesh of your ass and groaning in time with the sharp gasps leaving your lips each time the heel of his hand brushes your swollen clit.

"Think you can cum again with just my fingers, baby?" The way you clench around around his digits is a tell tale sign that your second high is close. Just his words alone nearly make you fall over the edge, words slurred as you try to focus on anything other than the unrelenting pulse between your legs.

"N-need more." You sound utterly fucked out, eyes squeezed shut and lost to the feeling of being filled but the stretch isn't quite enough and you need more to tip you over the edge. "Another one."

Seokjin lines up a third finger with your entrance, the ring on his finger cold against your hot walls as he slides it in beside the others at an agonisingly slow pace; to allow you to adjust to the stretch or to taunt you can't tell. By the time he gets to his knuckles your body is wracked with laboured breaths, quivering knees barely able to hold your weight as you bite the inside of your cheeks to curb a string of whines at being finally filled.

Of course, his fingers weren't as good as the real thing and you wonder how he is able to control himself when your mouth waters at the thought of feeling him inside of you instead of his hand.

The room is still a little humid from the showers, a layer of sweat glistening across your skin as you chase your high with determination, the stickiness between your legs dripping down Seokjin's wrist and making him tut, the click of his tongue heightening the sensation.

"That's it, cum for me." The authority lacing his tone tips you over the edge, another smack stinging your ass as you bury your face in the couch with a cry, the feeling of his fingers pumping you through your high almost too much to bare but as soon as they are ripped away and you're left clenching around nothing you miss the feeling of being full.

"So pretty when you cum." Seokjin murmurs. Under normal circumstances you would have been embarrassed, self conscious even with your ass up for anyone to see, release leaking on to the couch, but you're too fucked out to care about anything m, barely able to register Seokjin's new found gentleness as he flips you onto your back and tucks a piece of hair behind your ear while you focus on returning your breathing back to a normal pace.

"Holy shit." The beat of your heart seemsdeafening in your ears, the only other sound you can comprehend being Seokjin's own ragged breathing.

"Fuck, I nearly just came in my pants." When you manage to turn your head he is staring straight at you with disbelief, eyes travelling to your swollen lips. "I'm going to jerk off to this image forever."

"Me too." You murmur honestly.

Your lids fall shut in post orgasm bliss, not expecting the incoming peck Seokjin presses to your parted lips. It is barely a kiss, plump flesh of his lips brushing yours for less than a second but a funny warmth spreads through your chest at the gesture. Seokjin seems as surprised as you, as if he can't quite believe he just did that, shuffling to the other side of the couch to put some distance between you.

"You should uh, get dressed." He mumbles, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly and turning away to give you some privacy, as if he hadn't just had his head between your legs just a moment ago.

His behaviour, albeit kind of strange, makes you smirk and you decide it won't hurt to tease. "Well, at least now we're even."

Seokjin bites his lip when he turns around to find your skirt back around your thighs, overcome with a new confidence, sauntering over and palming your ass like he owns it. "Nope, not getting away that easily. I think you'll find I made you cum twice. So now you owe me. Again."

"And what do I owe you this time, Kim Seokjin?" You place your hands on his chest, no instinct to push him away for some reason. "Golfing with your brother up next?"

"No," He scoffs. "My brother wouldn't be caught dead with a club."

"Then what?"

You notice the glint in his eye again, the one you are starting to crave. "Let me get to know you."

"Isn't that what you did today?"

He shakes his head. "The real you."

[jiminsheart]

upcoming fics

key: angst (a) | fluff (f) | smut (s)

a/n: hi guys! so hopefully to make things easier for you all, i’ve collected all my fics in one place. i’ll be updating the list every time i put up a new fic, so hope you guys enjoy! and as always, my inbox is open for requests, messages, and feedback :)

knj

coming soon

ksj

coming soon

myg

coming soon

jhs

coming soon

pjm

sliding grips (a) 1. 2. 3.

Cherry Song is an orphan girl who lives alone in the middle of Seoul. She’s in desperate need of money, and seems to always find herself in the stickiest situations. The only way she knows to get quick money is by finding rich people, and Park Jimin just happens to be the son of a CEO. 

my beautiful flower (a, f) 1. 2.

Prompt: can i request an angsty story where Jimin forgets his memories with the reader (Y/N)?Please make it multi chapters :D 

a/n: i wrote the two above way back when i was in middle school so this won’t be one of my best works, proceed with caution!

kth

insensitive (a) (preview)

After working abroad for two years, a new job lands you back in your home city. Old friendships rekindled and new position locked, the only challenge is learning how to deal with your ex-bestfriend Taehyung and his flashy new fiancee.

bittersweet smiles (a)

prompt: “We’re not just friends and you fucking know it.” +  “Why are you so jealous?”

jjk

morning burns (f) (m)

prompt:  “You’re seriously like a man-child.”

[noirewrites]

For You, I Will Cross Any Waters

Fandom: Miraculous Tales of Ladybug and Chat Noir

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Warnings: No Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M

Pairing: Adrien Agreste/Marinette Dupain Cheng

@art-the-f-up sorry this comes a lot late!

I live! Okay, well, I know you guys know I live given I updated United as well as started with a Lukanette shot anddddd this fic is to blame for the Lukanette one, I swear! You will see why in the next chapter. Also, this is the chapter where the story finally develops — aka, where I diverge from the plot list for Ladynoir July 2020 as well. I wanted to put this along with Day 6 prompt, but the chapter got twice the usual length and seemed so awkward that I now have one finished and one half written chapter now xD

Thanks for bearing with me, hope you guys enjoy! <3

Chapter 6: Meeting the Future Bride

A beautiful melody echoed through the wide room. As the final chord was struck, the door opened.

“Adrien, your Father wishes to meet you,” the woman at the door said in a monotone, causing the blond at the piano to turn his attention to her.

“Is it about yesterday, Nathalie?” He asked nonchalantly.

“He didn’t disclose the purpose of the meeting.”

Adrien sighed. “Fine, I will be down in five minutes.”

As Nathalie left, Adrien distractedly pressed the piano keys again. Suddenly, the top of his black piano moved a bit and acid green eyes morphed into the instrument, blinking at him. Adrien suppressed a bark of laughter before shaking his head lightly. Reaching over, he moved his hand over the shiny surface, causing the piano to purr a bit. Finally, he got hold of something firm, and plucked the black cat out of the piano.

The cat hissed a bit at the sudden interruption from its relaxation, letting out a small yowl as Adrien cuddled it in his arms. But as the blond stroked his fur, the yowling died down to give way for purring.

“Say, Plagg, you have a knack of spooking me out, don’t you?” Adrien chuckled, dodging his finger away from the cat’s reach as it tried to bite him.

“Whatever kid, I am angry that you disturbed my peaceful catnap,” the cat snarked.

“But you are liking the cuddles~~”

The feline chose not to reply, opting to cuddle closer to his owner.

As he stroked Plagg absentmindedly, Adrien quietly asked, “What do you think Father wants to talk about?”

“Would bet my entire cheese stash this is about last night’s shenanigans,” came the reply.

Adrien sighed and put the cat down, “Guess I brought this upon myself. Stay hidden while I am gone, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know the drill,” Plagg said as he waved a dismissive paw in the air.

Shaking his head lightly, the blond walked out of his room in the direction of the atelier. The atelier where his father was waiting for him, probably to deliver to him another lecture on maturity and responsibility.

Reaching the grand doors, Adrien felt a bout of uneasiness pass over him. Years of subjugation to his father’s wishes had still left their impressions in adulthood. No matter how independent he wished to be, he sometimes couldn’t help but feel as if he was still held under Gabriel’s iron grip.

Knocking on the giant doors, the blond took a deep breath in, trying to calm his racing heart. A monotonous “Come in” came from the inside, prompting him to reach forward and enter the room.

Gabriel Agreste stood behind his desk, his eyes sifting through some random sketches. He spent a good moment or two at his task before turning his attention to Adrien, his neutral expression giving way to a slight frown.

“Hello, Father,” the blond greeted.

“Hello, Adrien. Can I have the pleasure of knowing where you were last night? For my reputation at the ball was severely compromised thanks to your frolicking,” Gabriel asked, cutting to the chase immediately.

Something in Adrien bristled. It had been a long time since his Father had had a proper conversation with him. Still, when they met again, the first thing the older Agreste cared about was Adrien’s whereabouts, and that too just because the Agreste reputation had been compromised?

Doing his best to not let his frustrations seep into his tone, Adrien replied in a cold monotone, “I was away from the ball, Father, to escape the clutches of all those high-class women who apparently were stickier than the stickiest glue we have.”

The older Agreste cocked an eyebrow as he held his chin thoughtfully, his mouth upturned in a slight smile. “Hmm, I guess you have got a point there, young man. Those ladies certainly didn’t care about your personal space, did they?”

The statement baffled Adrien. Was his Father actually agreeing with him for once?

Gabriel walked towards Adrien, clapping his hand on the younger Agreste’s shoulder as he proudly said, “Well, don’t worry son. You won’t have to encounter those ladies again.”

He turned his head up, looking in the direction of the doors before calling out, “Nathalie, please bring our guest in.”

The doors opened and someone walked in. Adrien turned around, only for his gaze to land on the strange new girl who stood in the atelier.

She wore a black satin evening dress with bell sleeves, overlaid in dark orange chiffon and black lace. The sweetheart neckline was a bit too deep for his liking. But what really unnerved the young man was the twinkle in her olive green eyes and the smile etched on her red-painted lips.

“Adrien, meet Ms. Lila Rossi. She has been eager to meet you since yesterday,” Gabriel informed.

“Um, hello?” Adrien greeted her, confused. “You have some news for me?”

He hoped against hope she hadn’t been present at yesterday’s ball, for that would only mean —

The young woman let out a shrill chuckle as she held his shoulder. “I now see what Monsieur Agreste meant by you being a ray of sunshine. Oh dear, I am your fiancée!”

On hearing her claim, Adrien immediately shrank away from her touch, “But—But I don’t even know you!”

He turned to his Father, eyes sparking in rage. “You said I could choose my bride!”

“And you refused that offer by running away, young man. That is no excuse to delay your wedding day.”

The young man tried hard not to grit his teeth at his Father’s words.

“As Adrien stated,” Gabriel turned to Lila, smiling, “You both don’t know each other. Then how about you young people solve that?” Gabriel suggested, heading for the door. “I have an important meeting I need to attend. Hope you two enjoy each other’s company.”

Saying what he needed to, the older Agreste left, leaving a shy Lila and a flabbergasted Adrien behind.

“So,” Lila spoke in a coy tone, “how about we go somewhere private and get to know each other?”

She subtly hooked her arm on his elbow, her fingers lightly trailing up his arms, causing him to cringe. “Somewhere like your ro—”

“The river side!” Adrien interrupted her, much to her chagrin. “The riverside’s a cool idea, Ms. Rossi. Fresh air with much needed quiet.”

And open space , he mentally added sourly.

Putting on his best grin as he approached the door, Adrien asked in a faux cheerful tone, “So, shall we go?”

Lila blinked stupidly for a moment, then broke into a coy smile of her own. “Sure, Adrien.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“And my uncle was a student of the great Beethoven, oh! I wish I had learnt some piano from him before he passed away,” the brunette said in a simpering tone, dabbing at her eyes to wipe away the non-existent tears.

Beside her, Adrien plastered a sympathetic look on his face as he fought the urge to roll his eyes. In the fifteen minutes he had spent with her, this Rossi girl had just bragged on and on about her family and her charity work.

According to her, she personally knew many famous people around the globe. Surprisingly, even though he was an Agreste, Adrien had never heard someone mention the title Rossi in any influential circle, let alone specifically name Lila.

Though he had to commend her on one thing. The woman had a fabulous ability to weave false stories and lie through her teeth.

“Oh, Adrien,” Lila cooed, holding his arm in what was meant to be a soft gesture but certainly was not, causing him to lean back a bit, “I have been talking only about myself all this time. Why don’t you tell me something about yourself?”

He nervously chuckled, rubbing at the nape of his neck in anxiety, “I—uh, you already know much about me, I am not someone unknown in the high-class, right? Uhm, how about you ask me yourself?”

The brunette held her chin in a thoughtful look, apparently thinking of some topic to converse on. Adrien took the beat of silence as a chance to gaze at the river that flowed beside him, his heart calming down a bit on seeing the sparkling waters. Thoughts about the masked beauty who lived underneath the surface helped his anxiety, too.

“Oh! I know what to ask!” Lila suddenly exclaimed, jerking him back to reality. “Is there anything about you that no one knows?”

“Something about me that no one knows?” the blond echoed her question.

“Yes,” she affirmed, leaning into his personal space and causing him to stagger back a little, “you know, since we are soon going to be married, there better be no secrets between us!”

He couldn’t help but stammer. “I, uh—”

Know what? I have a magical cheese-loving black cat who gives me the power to transform into Chat Noir and ALSO! I already have a love interest, a mermaid called Ladybug who is far more beautiful and truthful than you! And woe to me if I am going to tell you anything about this!

Pausing his internal thoughts, Adrien looked towards the river in an attempt to calm himself down. And then an answer came to him.

“Well, since you asked,” he turned to catch Lila’s attention, before looking back at the river again, “I have always felt connected to water.”

“Connected to… water?” Lila echoed his words, disbelief evident in her tone.

“Yes.” The man’s eyes sparkled as he walked to the riverbank and bent down, slightly gliding his hand on the water surface and bringing his wet hand to his eyes, immediately feeling a shiver of pleasure run down his spine. “I feel like the water’s calling out to me, asking me to be one with it.”

There was a pregnant silence between the two, before it was broken by the sound of stifled chuckles. Confused, Adrien turned his head to see the brunette holding a palm over her mouth to prevent laughter from escaping her.

“Did I say something funny, Miss Rossi?” the man asked, his cold tone poorly masking the offense he felt.

“Oh, I-I am sorry Adrien, but…” her voice trailed off as she stifled another laughter, before continuing, “Your thoughts match with the pests of the water.”

“And?” He prompted her, an eyebrow raised in challenge.

“Well—” the young woman looked at him as if he had asked her about why water existed. Coughing a bit to regain her composure, she continued, “—uhm, you are an Agres—”

“I know who I am and let me tell you, Lila Rossi, my Father’s name does not define my thoughts. I am an independent individual with my own thoughts and feelings, and even if they match with the mermaids or what you call the ‘pests of the water’; I am actually glad they do.”

Getting up, he reached towards Lila, his acidic green eyes causing her to stagger back a bit.

“I-I really didn’t mea-mean to off—” she stammered.

“Save it.”

Saying so, the blond walked off, leaving behind a shocked, yet fuming Rossi girl.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Okay, so she’s just like your Father. And?” Plagg nonchalantly asked, pawing at the ball of yarn that Adrien had tossed to him and completely ignoring his human who laid in his bed, face buried in the pillows.

Adrien lifted his head and exclaimed, “She’s my fiancée, Plagg!”

And plopped his face back into the pillows, muffling his screams.

The cat sighed, pushing the yarn ball away and shaking his head remorsefully. He strutted over to the bed and jumped on his chosen’s back.

“You humans and your melodrama.”

“Whatever, it’s not like you have a secret love interest, you cheese monster,” came the muffled reply.

The cat bounced on the man’s back, before lightly scratching him with a claw and causing him to yelp. “Mind you, my love interest is your Bug’s guardian.”

Adrien turned his head to the side, glancing at his animal friend as a smirk adorned his face.

“Wasn’t Camembert the first and last love of your life?”

“Shush you,” Plagg nudged him on the face, causing the blond to giggle. “Now, if you have stopped moping about your currently messed up civilian life, what plans do you have for wooing your Lady fish tonight?”

Adrien blushed a bit, before his gaze turned to the piano that still stood in the middle of the room. He thought for a moment, then an idea dawned on him.

“I guess I have just the perfect plan, Plagg.”

[brodykwon]

hi, finn here with my second son, brody. unlike benji, he is total trash.. but please love him anyway.

edit: forgot to add his pinterest which i need to work on some

finn , 22 , cst , he/him —— is that a bird or a plane ? nah , it’s just BRODY KWON . word on the street is that the TWENTY year old , MALE , looks an awful lot like NA JAEMIN , but i just don’t see it . strangers believe them to be POMPOUS and AUDACIOUS , but their friends will tell you they’re DARING and RESILIENT . they associate themselves with rolling on a bed covered in money, louis vuitton overnight bags, and top shelf liquor.

tw: drug abuse and addiction, mild neglect

grew up in itaewon, one of the richest neighborhoods in seoul, to a father who is a self-made multi-millionaire and his doting trophy wife.

his dad is a piece of shit but rich, so all in all, a good trade off. his mom got a divorce from him 10 years ago when she couldn’t put up with the asshole anymore and took brody with her, along with a shit ton of money.

brody just basically lived at a boarding school in seoul and pretended everything was fine at home. within a few years, his mother remarried and he gained a step-brother a year older than him that he somehow still had to keep an eye out for.

as most mildly neglected kids with a lot of money do, he rebelled. brody skipped class, drank, did drugs, seduced teachers, the whole bit. he was never reprimanded, even when his mother and stepfather were called in for meetings. as long as they didn’t have to put up with him, they were fine with whatever he chose to get himself into.

at boarding school, he made friends that would only exacerbate his troublemaking behaviors, and he could charm his way out of even the stickiest situation he got himself into.

now that he’s out of school (what’s the point of going to college when you’re financially secured for life?) it’s just gotten worse

his addictions to alcohol, drugs, partying, and sex have just strengthened and his health is deteriorating but he can’t bring himself to care

somehow, he’s still soft and compassionate, if a little misguided

needs

ride or die he may or may not kinda have a thing for hanbin

friends to cause a ruckus with

people who worry about him and his lack of control

sexual conquests. he just sleeps around a lot okay

distant cousins or something ??

idk anything really!

[rebelheartsmustbefree]

Putting out the Fires

( Putting out the Fires )

*I was healed from my beating by the next morning. The only thing that seemed to take the longest, and hurt the most, was my ribs. A few of my attackers kicks landed right where they counted. Repeatedly. Though it wasn’t my first hate crime type of beating, this time it had nothing to do with what I am. Most the time I was kicked down simply for the fact that I was even born. As if every breath that I pull into my lungs was an offense to the Heavens. But this assault was different. Logically I knew I deserved it. I knew it was only a matter of time before I had sex with the wrong townie. Fucking around the way I did was becoming a nuisance, was becoming noticed by the wrong people. I could still taste the blood in my mouth, and the scent of the guy I had fucked was a reminder of my sins. When I finally manage to drag my ass off the couch, I head upstairs to take a shower in hopes of washing away all those transgressions. But I knew damn well the stench of disappointment would stick with me. Redemption was fleeting with every meaningless hookup I consumed myself with. The smell of sex and failure was nauseating.

As I stand in my shower, letting the hot spray wash over my body, I think to myself about how different the world would be without me. Not like I could actually take back my Father’s mistake or anything, but just thinking for a moment that things might be better if he hadn’t of been so careless. I am tired, fighting my entire life to prove that I am not the horrible thing that they all expect me to be. Sure, due to the Garrison’s own careless behavior they single handedly pushed me into this new threat. The thing that they all feared and knew I would become. The thing now that I had to constantly fight back or kill everyone and everything in existence. No pressure or anything. According to Michael, I wasn’t supposed to transform for many, many millennia. But thanks to the complete mind fuck the elder Angel’s put me through, it triggered my change prematurely.

Though the change did come with a bad ass new set of wings, it set in to motion a new set of challenges and threats. Starting with Ezekiel. This dumb ass thought he could put a bounty on my head, conspire with demons to see if they could set me off. See he wanted to reset the clock, eradicate humanity and start with a clean slate. His plan failed and I practically served him up to the Hellmouth himself. With a very helpful assist from the Hound of course. I am sure me working with the soul sucker himself was deeply frowned upon, I have no doubts about that. But what else was I supposed to do? I had an obstacle in my way and I knew that Hellmouth would gladly take himself an Angel right down to the pit. Heaven knows he would happily have my feathery ass down there. All I had to do was say the word and he did. Also he kind of owed me one after putting him back together. Some things you really cannot unsee.

And then Charlie happened.

The stickiest situation for sure. Quite a few months back, there was this chick in my bar, had herself stuck in the middle of one fucked up love triangle and it became to overwhelming for her. She stood right there and cut herself with a broken beer bottle. She was dead before I had even had a chance to get to her. The room stood still, having pressed the pause button on life itself as I held her lifeless body in my arms. I placed my hand on her chest and brought the life right back into her. It was the first time I had brought anyone back. I wasn’t even aware that I could do such a thing until that moment quite literally forced my hand. Little did I know, she was with child. That morning she had just confirmed her pregnancy and was grief stricken with wondering which man she had gotten pregnant with. This was her solution. Only it didn’t go off as planned. When she she died, the baby was without oxygen until my grace revived her and brought her back. In turn, I also affected the baby. Charlie.

Technically, yes, I had a child now. If it was not for me, that kid would be dead. He has my grace inside him and after I bonded with him those first couple days, we were forever tethered together. As if the kid didn’t have a rough enough start to things, he was now stuck with me as his guardian. I know full well that I have no business watching over anyone. Especially another angel. He is already growing like a weed thanks to the angelic DNA coursing through his veins. When I handed him over to his dad, he was only a few days old. The next time I saw him, he was already two and Charlie’s dad was asking me questions. I had to tell him the truth which shattered his world to say the least. He was sure it meant he not only lost the woman he loved, but now I would take his son away from him. Not the case at all. So we set up this little arrangement, him being father in charge and I would be an uncle to the child. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I had already bonded to the child and that connection would be stronger than any family relation he could offer Charlie. I knew in time that everything would come out into the light.

Last time I saw Charlie he was approximately around the age of eight, maybe nine. It had been over two months and I was just waiting for him at this point. The kid would have so many questions which his father and I already agreed that I would have to be the one to step up and answer them all when the time came. To say I was dreading that moment would be a severe understatement. My life was a mess and having to be the one to provide clarity to another being was laughable in my opinion. Ask anyone, I was the textbook definition of a dumpster fire. Or rather my entire life so far could be described as such. Either way I was a multiple, ‘What the ACTUAL fuck?!’ moment a day kind of asshole with wings. I had a flicker of hope that maybe I could turn this hemorrhaging vessel around.

I had stalled enough by milling through all my baggage while in the shower, finally finishing up, I get out and make quick work of getting dressed and ready to head to my bar. It was time to shut off all my bullshit and go deal with all the emotions that a night serving drinks would provide. It was night’s like these that made me thankful for that place. It gave me a chance to just idle my own mind and be normal. Or as normal as I could be with what I am. I made my way downstairs and grab my jacket before heading to the back doors, seeing the silhouette of someone through the drawn shades, standing right outside. The kid looked to be about fourteen or fifteen, a very distraught look on his face. When I opened the door and met his eyes, I knew who was standing there. Charlie. Fuck. Had it really been that long? Before I even got a chance to greet him, he was rushing me and hugging at my middle.*

“Uncle Isaac, am I a monster?”

*I wasn’t expecting that. Not one little bit. So caught off guard by his words that it actually chokes me up as I wrap my arms around the kid. He came up to my chest now which made it easier to rest my chin on the top of his head. He began talking a mile a minute, catching bits and pieces about his dad being frustrated with him and telling him to come ask me -what- he really was. I was hit with so many emotions at that moment. Pissed the fuck off at his dad for saying something so heartless to Charlie and empathy for the ward in my arms. I was not at all ready for this talk to happen, especially not so soon but you really can’t pick and choose with these things I guess. For better or for worse, I was this kid’s only hope and yet, he just might be part of my salvation.*

#TBC

[itmaybedullbutimdetermined]

i have seen a lot of (justified) discussion about the fact that peter and johnny meet up on the statue of liberty on christmas morning every year but not enough about the time they spent valentine’s day disarming time bombs together

Marvel Team-Up Vol 1 #10 (1973)

[atlantic-riona]

🖋 FERHON

MY TRASH SON

Ferhon has been friends with Bran ever since the two met while Bran was in jail. despite the fact that, at that point, Bran had no interest in making friends, Ferhon persisted until Bran warmed up to him.

there’s actually a snippet I was working on where Bran points out that he tried his hardest to repel Ferhon’s offer of friendship, and Ferhon waves this away:

“And yet, like mud, I clung on.” Ferhon frowned. “No. I’m not mud. I’m something you can’t get rid of, but in a good way. What am I?”“Perfume,” she suggested. “Honey. Sticky jam.”“The stickiest,” he agreed. “I’m the stickiest jam.”

he’s almost never serious, always cracking a joke at the right (or wrong) moment. Ferhon’s the kind of person who always looks like he’s up to something, even when he’s not. he has no idea where he came from, and no memory of his family. Bran was his first true friend. until shortly before the novel, he and Bran were inseparable, and he was the Raven’s right hand man.

but then SOMETHING (*cough* spoiler-related *cough*) happened and that all changed. Bran broke off their friendship and left for home, swearing off the Raven forever. Ferhon followed him with the intent of convincing him to return to being the Raven.

technically he followed Bran under orders, from the captain of their mercenary group, but he has his own agenda too…

[douchebagbrainwaves]

HOLDING A STARTUP HUBS WORK

At YC we call these made-up or sitcom startup ideas. Suburbia means half the population can live like kings in that respect the cheeseburger of essay forms. Revenue Loop. It seems unlikely that will work if they're just streaming the same files you can get away with such an opaque description, but no startup can. When we started Y Combinator, we planned to invest the way other venture firms do: as proposals came in, we'd evaluate them and decide yes or no. Well, if you're building something differentiated from competitors by the fact that it can be at every stage. If everyone wants in, they want to have the time and the inclination to build things just because they're interesting. This way, they were exceptional. Some parents feel a strong adherence to an ethnic or religious identity is one of the stickiest things you can tell them.1 But hardware is not just that hackers understand technology better, but we can't think of a time when one failed to do something called price discrimination, because the bugs are fewer and transient.2

Maybe their strongest shared interest will be their physical location, but I'm guessing not.3 Humans were not designed to eat are a few Birkenstock-wearing weirdos in Berkeley. They may succeed in making themselves a place, but it fits this situation well. So you must consciously discount for that. Of the anaesthesia itself. This way of writing software is a double-edged sword of course.4 What decided the contest for computers? The schlep filter is so dangerous that I wrote a separate essay about the condition it induces, which I still occasionally buy on weekends. An established company may get away with maltreating developers, in the short term, because they were always in close contact with support.

There is all the more reason for startups to be able to get at your data from any computer. In the fall of 1983, the professor in one of my college CS classes got up and announced, like a well. After Viaweb became Yahoo Store, this software is the most popular online store builder, but we can't think of a time when one failed to do something called price discrimination, because the light is better there. If a server got wedged, we jumped; just thinking about it gives me a jolt of adrenaline, years later. Some VCs will say this is unthinkable—that they were onto something. But that wasn't the worst problem. And the business of selling information to consumers has always been a marginal one. So if you want to start a startup. If an ordinary employee were asked to do the most disgusting sort of work, like spamming, or starting a company, and it has to be better if the people with more knowledge have more power.5 It's impossibly unlikely that this is the exact moment when technological progress stops. In something that's out there, problems are intriguing.

Notes

I think is happening when you graduate, regardless of how hard they work for us, the approval of an extensive biography, and both times I bailed because I realized that without the methodological implications. That was a new airport. When I talk about it well enough to be some things it's a departure from the 1940s or 50s instead of bookmarking. If this happens it will thereby expose it to colleagues.

A few startups get on the one hand they take a long time in your identity manifests itself not directly exposed to competitive pressure. The Socialist People's Democratic Republic of X is probably part of their core values is Don't be evil.

High school isn't evil; it's not the primary cause.

Another approach would be much bigger news, in the classical world meant training landowners' sons to speak well enough to turn down some good proposals too. The problem with most of the next downtick it will have to pass so slowly for them, not just that they discovered.

There's a variant of the economy. Till then they had to both. I saw this I used to those.

[wayfaringsofsabit]

Broken Justice: Nine

On the fourth day after Sabit’s capture, the champions were ushered to the floor of the great forum itself.  The fighting area itself was oblong, more than a hundred and twenty cubits from end to end, but barely fifty cubits wide. The surrounding walls of tan sandstone were eight cubits high—too tall for even the  mightiest champion to leap into the gallery where the contenders of the case and other observers would sit to watch the proceedings. The floor was covered with coarse sand, churned a dusky red from ages of blood spilled in the name of justice.

Three dozen champions filed into the sunlit arena, taking their place on either side. Sabit had met most of the others during training, but had not seen them in their full regalia. Their armor glowed with fresh polish and their weapons sparkled in the sunlight. The contenders walked the length of the arena between two rows of champions, the fighters puffing out their chests, striking outlandish poses with their weapons of choice, and composing their features into scowls of terrifying fury in desperate attempts to be chosen. Battles were almost never to the death, and even a defeated champion was paid for his efforts.

Sabit’s armor was in good repair, but unadorned. The only ornament she wore was a tangle of silver chains she had found cast off in the wilderness. Sabit bore her spear easily, standing in the near-slouch of a predator awaiting worthy prey. The spear woman’s placid stance made a stark contrast to the exploits of the other champions.

Today’s case was spawned by that stickiest of human emotions: love. The firstborn sons of two rival merchant houses of Kelmaars had fallen madly in love with one another, in defiance of their families’ protests. The young lovers had stolen a ship and fled the confines of their ancestral home. The head of house Lanyon—the family whose ship was stolen—blamed all of house Chegwin for the theft and demanded recompense. The head of house Chegwin claimed that the whole affair was a Lanyon plot to deprive her of her only son and heir. A bitter feud—costly of treasure and steeped in blood—would surely engulf these two houses if the forum of justice could not settle their case beyond all hope of appeal.

The head of house Chegwin approached Sabit. She was a thin, old woman with a back as straight as a staff and wrinkles around her jowls that gave her the look of sucking on something loathsome. “How many cases have you won, champion?” asked the old woman, looking up into Sabit’s impassive face.

“Not a one,” Sabit replied.

The old woman made a dismissive noise and took two steps further along before turning back. “How many cases have you lost?”

“Not a one,” Sabit answered.

A harsh smile spread across the old woman’s face. “An unknown? I like that. And I could do worse than choose one who bares such a symbol. A silver necklace of seven-pointed stars is a good omen. Will you take up my cause and fight for justice, champion?”

Sabit glanced at the scarred overseer in the far end of the arena. In the morning air, she could hear the faint echo of the work gangs clearing rubble from the streets, her own crew among them. Sabit looked down at the head of house Chegwin. “Yes, I will fight for you.”

-----

Wayfarings of Sabit: Isle of the Wicked is copyright (c) 2016 by Michael S. Miller. All rights reserved. New chapters post every weekday. You can support this and other stories on Patreon: https://patreon.com/michaelsmiller or http://ipressgames.com/fiction/

[itmaybedullbutimdetermined]

peter calling johnny “torchy” in his canonical queens accent reblog if you agree

[itmaybedullbutimdetermined]

New Avengers #10 (2005) -> Howard the Duck #5 (2015)

johnny: hold me

peter: holds

johnny: ಠ_ಠ ……… but secretly ❛ ᴗ ❛