#sorry if there are any typos i'm just so tired

[ldrfanatic]

Hi! I'm not sure if you're taking requests but if you are can you do a Slytherin boy(preferably Mattheo, Theo, or Enzo but you can choose) x reader. So the reader was walking down the hall and they heard chanting and cheering so they went to check it out and they saw the Slytherin boy in a might. Their face was really bloody and already starting to bruise so the reader tries to break up the fight, but ends up accidentally getting hit. Before the Slytherin boy can do anything the reader punches the other person in the face and then drags the boy back to his dorm to clean him up. And the boy is just kinda awestruck by what he just witnessed, and he just admires the reader as she cleans and patches him up. Sorry that this turned out to be so long 😭 have a lovely day!

The Knockout Chronicles

Theodore Nott x Reader Mattheo Riddle x Reader Enzo Berkshire x Reader

warnings - cursing, blood, fighting

a.n. i am taking requests esp for the slytherins :)

sooo... I couldn't decide who to write this for so I just did all three I hope that's okay. also this is my first time writing for Mattheo and Enzo so please let me know if there's something off regarding their characters I tried to do as much research as possible.

i was so freaking excited to get a slytherin request that i literally wrote this all in one sitting so i apologize for any typos or anything. please feel free to send more slytherin requests!!

wc 1.9k (each piece is about 500-600 words)

nav slytherin boys

---

You yanked exhaustedly at the tie, finally undoing the loop and pulling the damned thing off your neck. After a long day of O.W.L's all you wanted was to find your boyfriend and collapse into his arms. Whether it was your dorm or his made no difference to you so long as you didn't have to do anything more for the remainder of the evening.

As you walked the corridor in search of your now missing little snake, you heard the distinct hollering and shouting of what was likely a fight taking place. Typically, you'd be there either watching or taking bets, but today was different. There was a tired in you that settled into your bones.

The gentle glow of the setting sun lit up the castle walls with beautiful hues of pinks and oranges as you debated the merits of actually going to get involved in this affair when suddenly, you heard a student call out a familiar name.

THEODORE

"YEAH! Go on Theo, kick his ass!"

You closed your eyes, leaned your head back, and took deep breaths as you attempted to suppress the rage currently building within you.

All you wanted was a peaceful, quiet evening in Theo's arms.

Nonetheless, you quickly advanced toward the noise. Despite having heard students cheering and chanting for him, you were still rather surprised to see your boyfriend on top of some poor Ravenclaw boy, beating the absolute snot out of him.

Theo's fist came down punch after punch. Unlike the loud atmosphere of the students who'd gathered, Theo fought in complete silence. Still, though he seemed calm and controlled, you knew that you had to put an end to it.

It wasn't often that Theodore Nott got into fights. He didn't like to let his emotions get the better of him. In fact, emotion was something his father had tried to beat out of him at a rather early age. But when he did get into fights, Theo was ruthless. He could beat someone to death and never change expression. In fact, most people avoided conflict with Theo entirely due to the boys ability to deliver blow after blow for hours on end.

This Ravenclaw boy didn't seem to get the message. You approached the pair of them and placed a gentle hand on Theo's shoulder. His fist froze mid-swing.

"That's enough, Theodore."

Your appearance gave the Ravenclaw the momentary distraction he needed to wriggle out from underneath. The boy immediately lunged at Theo as soon as his feet touched the ground. However, in his reckless abandon, his elbow found it's way to your cheek and hit you on the side of the face with an audible thud, effectively whipping your head sideways.

The courtyard fell silent.

For the first time since their fight began, Theo's emotionless front cracked. He was seething with pure rage.

"Listen, man, I-- I didn't mean--"

Even those that weren't deterred by Theo's reputation and had decided to fight him anyways knew that there was only one person in this world that Theodore Nott cared for. You. And if anyone ever messed with you, Theo was more than happy to provide them with a brutal trip to the afterlife.

But the punch that broke the boy's jaw wasn't delivered by Theo.

You shook your hand out, not expecting your knuckles to pop in the way that they did when your fist met his face. The force of your punch had knocked the Ravenclaw to the floor. Two of his friends suddenly pushed through from the crowd and picked him up as quickly as possible before the three of them took off down the hall.

You didn't say anything as you grabbed the arm of Theodore's shirt. You plucked his robes off of the floor and stormed out of the courtyard, towards the Slytherin Common Room. Theo was silent the entire walk there. It wasn't until you were perched on his lap, cleaning the cuts on his face and hands that he spoke.

"Merlin, all this time you've been able to throw a punch like that?"

"Keep fucking playing with me Theodore, and you'll find out just how mean of a punch I can throw."

MATTHEO

"C'mon Riddle!"

"Goddamnit." You huffed out as you barged through the doors that led to the one-eyed witch courtyard. Mattheo, whom you were unfortunately in a relationship with, was rather engaged in a surprisingly brutal fight with Stewart Ackerley, a Gryffindor in your year.

His shirt and hands were covered in deep red splotches which you could only assume were Stewart's blood. Mattheo had probably the roughest upbringing of anyone you'd ever known. He'd always been hotheaded and he was always getting into fights. The number of entanglements he'd been in had died down considerably since the two of you began dating but it wasn't hard to get Mattheo riled up if you knew what button to push.

And Stewart Ackerley had damn near broken that button when Mattheo overheard him scheming with his disgusting friends about trying to get you into his bed.

Something that you noticed really early on into dating Mattheo is that he's not like other students. His troubled childhood and his unfortunate parentage meant that he had a darkness in him. He'd joked on more than one occasion that the real him was a monster that he kept chained up in the back of his mind.

Most importantly, when Mattheo fights, he lets the monster loose. He's complete, uncontrolled chaos as soon as that adrenaline hits his blood. It's like getting into a fistfight with a hurricane.

You carefully approached the pair of them, careful not to get too close.

"Mattheo stop it."

Mattheo's body flew around to face the source of whoever had been brave enough to scold him. It was likely this person would be the next target of his rage. That is, until his eyes met yours. He took a deep breath that did nothing to stop the way his body shook with rage.

Once you'd decided it was safe enough to draw near to him, you wiped away a bit of Ackerley's blood that had splattered onto his cheek.

It seemed, however, that the beating he'd received wasn't enough to deter the stupid Gryffindor. Moments later, he was blindly throwing his fists towards Mattheo. His vision was too impaired by blood and sweat to notice the figure standing next to him and in a moment of sheer ignorance, he'd mistakenly punched you in the face instead.

The taste of iron filled your mouth as blood started to pool. His blow had caused you to bite down on your tongue quite hard.

Mattheo instantly grabbed Ackerley by his collar but before he could punch the boy, he'd doubled over in pain from a swift kick that you'd delivered to his groin. While he was bent over, you swiftly pulled your knee up, satisfied with the crunch noise his nose made as it came in contact with your knee.

Ackerley let out a rather unbecoming shriek as he fell to the ground.

Mattheo stood off to the side with a proud look on his face. He smirked and flipped Ackerley off as you yanked him from the scene.

When you made it back to the Slytherin Common Room, Mattheo pulled you into a rather intense kiss. You pushed him onto the expensive leather couch and began dabbing at his busted knuckles with a cotton pad soaked with alcohol. Mattheo's other hand snaked around the back of your neck, pulling your head up so your eyes met his.

"As incredibly hot as that was Princess, do me a favor. Next time you're going to try and help me, don't."

"Get in there Berkshire!"

Confusion contorted your face as you approached the bell towers.

Why in the hell, would your sweet, loving Enzo be in a fight? Though you were convinced that it was really just some other slytherin who might've held a close resemblance to Enzo, you still allowed your feet to carry you towards the source of all the racket.

It came as quite a shock when you'd approached and saw your dark haired Slytherin on top of some poor student. You recognized the boy from the halls but you'd never actually met him. And here your sweet Enzo was, very thoroughly pummeling him to your surprise.

Not that you thought Enzo couldn't fight. In fact, you knew that Enzo had quite a bit of experience in that realm after the training his father had given him. What was shocking was that Enzo was fighting at all.

Despite his cousin Draco's attempts to goad him into fights on numerous different occasions, Enzo really did despise fighting. He was always a little bit afraid that if he allowed himself to lose control like he'd seen Mattheo do so often, he'd accidentally kill the bloke. No, it wasn't fair to engage in fights with people so much less trained than he.

So to see him now, face set in a hard and angry stare while he obliterated the boy below him was startling.

Though the student on the ground was just about destroyed, Enzo didn't have a scratch on him. He had a little blood that had splattered onto his coat and you suspected his knuckles had split, but aside from that, he was untouched.

You knew that if you didn't put an end to this, Enzo was going to regret it.

"Enzo." Your voice rang out softly into the air but he didn't hear you as he continued to beat his opponent. "Lorenzo, lay off of him."

This time, Enzo registered the sound of your dulcet tones. He stood from his place on top of the boy. You'd expected him to walk over to you and laugh it off, but instead he delivered a brutal kick to the boy's ribs, still angry beyond reason.

You marched up to the two of them, frustrated. "I said, stop."

Enzo turned to stare at you with a blank look in his eyes. It was like he'd completely died inside.

Whoever the little shit was that he'd just beat the life out of saw a unique opportunity (to die). You let out an involuntary yelp as he kicked your legs out from under you. Thankfully, you landed on your bum on the soft grass, but his actions did nothing to help Enzo's rage.

Before your boyfriend could get the chance to kill the kid, you'd jumped to your feet and stepped directly on his hand, applying probably more pressure than necessary. You secretly enjoyed the hoarse scream he let out. You only wanted to wound him enough to send a message, not enough to send him to the hospital wing, or worse, crying to the teachers like a little bitch.

After a thinly veiled threat, you took Enzo's bloody hand in yours and jerked him back towards the castle. Thankfully, most of the students were either on their way to dinner to already there so the halls were fairly empty.

"What was that?"

You growled out the moment the door to the Common Room shut behind you.

"Look I'm sorry, Y/n. But I'm not just going to stand by and let Cormac McClaggen of all people insult you."

Your eyes softened and you reached to the first aid kit kept in one of the large oak cabinets near the fireplace. You spoke gently to Enzo as you cleaned and bandaged his hands.

"Thank you, but I don't need you to protect me Enzo."

"Yeah, clearly."

4.18.2024

-- taglist -- (this is my theo taglist but to join any taglist for any specific boy just comment on any of my posts specifying which taglist you'd like to join)

@moonlightreader649 @svt-dk97 @thatdammchickennugget

[revenantghost]

Tristamp Wolfwood is a bit different than his counterparts, yeah? And I don’t mean that in a bad way, Orange is going somewhere with it, but it’s very different from what they’ve done with Vash and Meryl imo. With them, I feel like we got a glimpse of pre-canon. With Wolfwood... Orange is up to something, and it goddamn terrifies me. I love him dearly, he has some many moments that make me smile and go, “Yeah, that’s Wolfwood, my beloved asshole.” But it’s different. Oh so very different.

I’m just gonna point out a few examples of things I think are different enough to note here (drawing comparisons from Trimax since that was the source for Tristamp, but I’ll try not to spoil much--just don’t Google names you don’t recognize), and then go a little off the rails with a couple theories (spoilers there, click the read more at your own peril). This is DEFINITELY not everything, and maybe my takes are a bit off, idk. If there’s something you’ve picked up on, definitely feel free to add it!

Well, here goes:

My dude is a mess. Wolfwood is typically put together and some would call him smooth (he’s a mess inside always, though) in his other incarnations. Orange pointed out at Sakuracon that the characters are supposed to look younger and more immature in Tristamp, and Wolfwood specifically is supposed to look like he can’t dress himself (lmao). They said they have their reasons but just didn’t have time to explore them in canon. So, I can make assumptions, but I’ll wait to see what comes in the future.

Another one that staff talked about in a recent interview is that Wolfwood is technically a priest according to his contract, but he calls himself an undertaker. Yeah, yeah, edgelord Tristamp Wolfwood and all that, but I’ve seen people call back to how, in the manga, it’s Vash that always takes the time to bury the dead. Wolfwood even chews him out a bit for this. But it’s literally in our introduction to him in this version. He carries the weight of the dead with him enough to make it part of his title, and that’s different for him.

I could be misremembering with this one. But I distinctly remember being surprised when I read Trimax because Wolfwood going into the Eye of Michael seemed more of his own choice than it is in Tristamp (not that a literal child could consent to, you know, torture and abuse)? But either way Wolfwood loathes the Eye of Michael from the get-go here, he doesn’t stay by choice and actively tries to escape. Just like all these choices he makes in Tristamp (which is MASSIVELY different in general), he does it for someone else. He can’t try to escape again, because they have Livio.

Speaking of! Livio!!! This was another thing that caught me by surprise going from Tristamp to Trimax, their relationship is so much different here, so much softer and it hurts in a beautiful way. I feel like less is more here to avoid spoilers, but this introduction pre-Trimax-canon and any future conflict with this backstory... is very different.

Holy hell, a moment like this happening so early?! Vash and Wolfwood having ideological differences and not understanding each other takes up so much time in Trimax. But over the course of three episodes, we go from Wolfwood killing someone that Vash wanted to save (props to Tristamp for making that gutpunch even more personal, ouch--though points deducted for not having the, “Shoot,” moment there), to Vash seeing how very similar they are and getting a grasp of why Wolfwood is the way he is. Wolfwood is so much softer in Tristamp. He’s way more emotional, he cares so deeply for things outside of himself, and he doesn’t have that apathetic bitterness. Staff have said that our main characters will be a lot more recognizable post-timeskip, so some shit is gonna happen to this man, but this is a fundamental shift in the early days of their relationship.

AGAIN!!! Wolfwood is doing this whole mission, betraying Vash, to save the orphanage. He didn’t have to listen to Vash trying to save the sandsteamer. It doesn’t matter if Vash is pissy if Wolfwood blew up the ship to save the orphanage, because that’s his end goal. He has a giant laser that just blew through an entire giant worm, this ship is nothing. Wolfwood’s trying to cling to the monster that he sees himself as, trying to stay the Punisher, but he’s not. He already has enough faith in Vash to trust him with everything he cares about. This takes a lot of development time for Wolfwood to trust Vash like this in Trimax--and even in the very end, he still doesn’t trust Vash with this. (If you know, you know.)

AGAIN!!!!! Wolfwood cares!!! He does not need to question if Vash is sure, if he thinks he can make up with or convince Knives or whatever, in fact he shouldn’t. He should give Vash no reason to question getting to July. But Wolfwood, be careful, your feelings are showing. Wolfwood’s getting worried about Vash. Even though all he needs to do is keep his head down and get this dork to July.

This was never Trimax Wolfwood’s motivation. Whatever drove him left him hollow and empty, he did not care. Even when he saw things starting to go south and he wanted out, Vash ended up being right: he was too much of a coward to do anything about it. (If you know, you know.) I had wondered, after Legato tried to bulldoze everything he loved, why the hell didn’t Wolfwood just desert the mission and team up with the gang. He already has such a deep connection with them. But this would be why.

WOLFWOOD IS NO LONGER CONTRACTED BY THE EYE OF MICHAEL AT THE END OF THE SEASON??? Some people say that Wolfwood still works for them, but tbh for what reason? They’re about to end the world. And then what about this line? He wouldn’t exactly have a choice, would he? I do think we’re gonna meet Chapel (right before Livio shoots himself, you’ll hear a voice and see a silhouette (not Razlo, though he’s there too) that seems to be a “new” character), and Wolfwood might end up working under him for some fucked up reason... But if not, this changes everything. It already changes everything considering how big Wolfwood escorting Vash to Knives is. But that’s done now. And because Vash saw right through him the first time, if Wolfwood comes back to do the same thing again, it might feel cheap and a little silly.

MERYL!!! Trimax is basically the Vash and Wolfwood show, right? The girls are around, but mainly their interactions are with Vash. But he and Meryl interact so much just over the course of twelve episodes. They even have that adorable group shot. She matters enough that he came back to rescue her, and the two of them worry about Vash together in the finale. Who knows what happened post-finale, but Wolfwood’s self isolation is already shot to hell. He’s more big brother Nico than he’d had the chance to be in awhile, he has so many people to care for.

So the danger has passed, Vash’s roots are back inside of him, the orphanage should be fine. But Wolfwood comes back for them. Yeah, yeah, the stupid cigarette excuse, but this is Wolfwood, not Vash. He didn’t come back because of the cigarette debt and we all know it. (Also kinda hoping that him saying what he does about fighting Knives being crazy is foreshadowing for some ridiculous 1v1 fight between them, had to throw that in there)

Now, theories Trimax spoiler time bby (I’ll also post any corrections under the cut):

EDIT 1: I was bonkers wrong on the Tristamp timeline (it takes place from May 25th to July 21st, not including the epilogue), so I just deleted that bit from the og post. I cannot remember where I got that number in my brain.

They are doing something with this man and I hate it as much as I love it. Every other character can go off and follow similar paths but they just nuked the entirety of Wolfwood’s storyline by having him be finished getting Vash to Knives and him choosing to trust Vash so goddamn early. And in less than a week of canon time!!! ORANGE WHAT ARE YOU DOING!!!!

They’ve knocked everything out of the park so far, I had so many concerns about what they were doing while watching, and they squashed most of them. So I choose to have faith that Orange has a brilliant plan that will crush my emotions in mind. It will probably eviscerate us just like Trimax did. But I have two theories as to how this could go:

First: And by far the most likely: all roads lead to that goddamned couch. They changed a ton of things, but just to make it all hurt in a new and exciting way. Don’t get me wrong, this was the final straw in making Trimax one of my favorite manga ever--Wolfwood’s character arc is one of the most satisfying things I’ve ever read. I’m a bit nervous because we’ve already shifted that arc so much, but there’s a lot of room to fuck us all up in this one. I imagine the final confrontation will still be between the two brothers, but I imagine the context will be different.

Wolfwood’s already chosen to spare Livio, so that won’t be the clincher, but there are so many things that Wolfwood wants to fight for now to use against him. Something in the timeskip will probably firm up his ideals to be the opposite of Vash’s in a different way than before, but I imagine we’ll get at least a season of them being goofy and learning how to live and regain their humanity together before they’re couched. :’) And now the girls are going to be a bigger part of it to make the grief all that greater :’))) Thanks in advance, Orange :’))))))

Second: No couch??? I know, then what would be the point? He’s doomed in every universe, how will it be as powerful if they don’t do that here??? And I agree, I think this is way less likely. But Wolfwood has already accepted the power of anime Jesus friendship into his life, and that’s a huge part of what lead to his death. Not that I don’t think it’s still likely for Tristamp Wolfwood to think it’s too much to ask Vash to step away from the conflict with Knives for whatever his personal struggles are, but... man that sandsteamer incident is foreshadowing something and I’m afraid. It shifted so much in a way that is so significant, I feel like I’m not doing it justice with my words.

Speaking of possible foreshadowing: Wolfwood isn’t the product of random experimenting like he was in Trimax, he’s the product of plant experimentation. And Vash can heal plants. Again, that’s a big ol’ stretch, as I think that they made the Gung Ho Guns a product of plant experimentation to try and explain the magic powers they all have, and it’s a very smooth idea imo. But it haunts me. Also, given that Conrad has probably been kept alive through fucked up plant methods and how long Rollo remained the same, and Conrad said the only flaw in his experiments were that they had to eat and drink... does Wolfwood and Gung Ho Gun friends have an extended lifespan??? Okay, getting off topic, sorry :’D

Basically, Wolfwood has already made huge leaps and bounds in trusting Vash, even listening to Meryl, and growing a heart for humanity. To the point I was half-afraid this guy was going to die in the finale, because we’ve already seen so much of his character arc. (It would have been a poor choice and I’m happy it didn’t happen EVEN IF I’M STILL AFRAID). And he’s based off of Trimax Wolfwood quite heavily! You can see it in the core of his personality still!!! WHAT ARE THEY GOING TO DO WITH HIM???

I doubt either of these ideas are going to be quite right, watch as Orange works in a secret, third thing that I can’t even imagine lmao. But this has been driving me absolutely bonkers and I had to share. This is still Wolfwood, and I have a feeling he’s only going to be more and more of the lovable asshole from here on out. But I have no idea where we’re going with it.

Holy hell, this was a long post. If you made it to the end of my insane ramblings well, uh... congrats??? I hope it was somewhat worth the read???? I’m so sorry?????? Thank you??????????

[theyellowotter]

This may be a controversial opinion, but I think people should just be able to... enjoy things.

They should be able to like something without making it part of some competition and comparing it to something someone else (or they themselves) deem "better" or "more worthy of attention" or whatever winners circle they've created in their mind.

Maybe they WANT to watch that cookie-cutter Marvel film because they don't want to experience a lot of emotional turbulence or critical thinking. Maybe they WANT to deep dive into comic history and lore and see it play out on screen and do some critical thinking that involves something they enjoy thinking about.

Or maybe they DON'T.

No one looks at a painting and sees the same brushstroke. And if they hate it? Well, they've got a lot of other paintings to see.

People can enjoy things several ways, guys. Neither is more meaningful than the other.

Just don't be an asshole about it. That goes for everyone.

[nebulein]

I love your writing.

Maybe Pat doing yoga for the first time and Jonny is his instructor. Jonny has to correct pats stances.

"And now you touch your right hand to your left ankle."

"You're kidding."

Jonny blinks, taken aback. "I-- uh. No?"

Patrick stares at him, sweat dripping into his eyes. He'd wipe it away if it wouldn't mean risking his precarious balance and likely falling on his ass. "I'm an athlete, not a fucking contortionist, Jonny!"

"It's easy, look." Jonny slides into stance next to him, legs spread wide, smoothly moving through the poses. Of course when Jonny does it it looks fucking easy. Asshole.

"Do that again," Pat demands.

Jonny rolls his eyes but does it, twisting in a way that Pat is sure will land him on his butt and then he'll never hear the end of it. He tries anyways, after a deep breath, but his arm is too short and he's supposed to keep the other one straight and--

"Whoa, steady there."

Yeah, yep, nope. Not happening. "It's fucking impossible!"

Jonny huffs. "It's not impossible," he says, putting emphasis on the word like Patrick doesn't know what it means, "I just did it."

"Yeah, 'cause you're a freak," Pat mutters, frustration bubbling over.

In a testament to their long friendship, Jonny ignores him. "Look, it's all in the hips. You just gotta be loose, go with the flow."

"I loosen my hips I die." For real. Pat is gonna brain himself and then Jonny is gonna cry and then where will they be.

Scratch that, Pat is gonna die anyways. 'Cause Jonny, once again, decided to ignore all personal boundaries Patrick keeps so carefully erected for his own sanity and well-being and put his hands on Pat's hips. Pat breathes in through his nose. Jonny's hands are broad, and possessive, and sitting entirely too low. All he'd need to do is shift an inch and he'd be grazing Patrick's dick. Pat breathes out through his mouth.

"Jesus, you're tight. No wonder you can't. Here, c'mon."

Pat grits his teeth and briefly contemplates murder. Or maybe running away screaming. But Jonny's standing right behind him, close enough that Pat can almost feel his body heat, feels Jonny brushing against Pat's shirt. He's holding Pat's hips in what feels like an iron vice, trying to get Pat to twist them. Pat resists Jonny's efforts, digs his heels into the floor and counts to ten.

He's not going to think about Jonny's hands on his hips, or Jonny behind him, or what else he'd like Jonny to do. All he'd have to do is shift his ass back a notch and. Well. That way madness lies.

"Your mom's tigh--"

"Kaner."

Jonny doesn't shout. Patrick shuts up anyway.

"Breathe with me."

Patrick hates his life. He hates the moment he stepped foot inside the gym this morning. He should've backed right out when he saw Jonny. Made up some excuse about a sick aunt or a broken skate lace or whatever. Instead he'd stupidly stuck around, and when Jonny had said 'wanna join me for some yoga?' Patrick's mouth had moved and formed the word 'sure' before his brain had had a chance to kick in.

This is why he doesn't go into the gym before his first coffee.

In through his nose. Out through his mouth.

"There we go." Jonny's voice is low and kind of soothing, or it would be, anyways, if Patrick didn't feel like a live wire right now, as tense as he's ever been in his life.

"You can trust me, I won't let you fall."

Fuck Jonny and his stupid fucking psychological warfare. Pat breathes and tries to relax. Jonny's behind him, strong and solid. If Pat falls the only thing he's gonna injure is his pride.

In. Out.

"Yeah, there we go. Ground yourself in the moment, feel the floor beneath your feet." Jonny and his fucking hippie mumbo jumbo. "Find your core, your balance." If Pat knew where his fucking balance was Jonny wouldn't have to publicly grope him right now. "Now focus on your left leg, open up your flexors."

Jonny pushes again and this time Pat allows it, follows Jonny's guidance, hips twisting. He wobbles for a sec but Jonny immediately tightens his hands, pressing all up against Patrick and Pat leans back on instinct.

"I got you," Jonny murmurs, low and right in Patrick's ear, and the shudder running through Pat has nothing to do at all with his balance. "Think you can manage?"

"Yeah," Pat croaks, mouth drier than the Sahara. Fucking hell. He swallows, tries again. "I'm good."

"I know you are." Maybe it's the praise mixed into the gentle joke, or the way Jonny's voice goes all warm when he says it, but Pat finds himself smiling as he bends forward, touching his right hand to his ankle. Jonny's right, once you got the right stance it's fucking easy.

There's a noise behind him, choked and kind of muffled but almost distressed, and Kaner turns around on instinct, but his nose is currently touching his knee, and his hand is glued to his ankle, all of which means he doesn't have the counterweight for the sudden movement to keep himself from doing exactly what he's been trying to avoid all morning. He hits the ground with an 'oomph'.

"Shit, are you alright?" Jonny's looking genuinely concerned.

Pat's elbow hurts where he banged it on the floor, but the thing smarting the most is his pride. "What happened to 'don't you trust me? I got you'?"

Jonny has the decency to look sheepish. "I got, uh--" His eyes dart away before fixing back on Patrick's face again. "Got a little sidetracked."

"Fucking hell, Jonny," Pat spits, massaging his funny bone.

"You alright?"

Pat had forgotten how annoying Jonny gets in mother-hen mode. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine."

He lets Jonny haul him up, except Jonny's meant it a little too well, hauling Pat right into his chest.

It's a good chest.

Pat would know, seeing as he's currently groping Jonny's tits.

For one excruciating, soul-killing moment, neither of them moves.

And then Jonny clears his throat and Pat jumps back like he's burned himself. "I, uh--."

"Yeah, no. It's. Uh. Fine. We're fine. Right?"

"Yeah. Fine. Totally fine."

Someone have mercy and kill Pat right now.

"Good, good." Jonny nods. If Patrick didn't know any better, he'd say Jonny's blushing. Jonny turns away for a moment and Patrick uses the chance to discreetly readjust himself.

"So. Next up is downward dog," Jonny drones on in his monotone, apparently determined to power through any awkwardness by shoving his ass in Patrick's face. Like. This cannot be real. Jonny's on all fours again, nearly folded in half in the middle, head down, ass up. Full on power bottom stance. Patrick would know, since he-- Uh, anyways. That's not important right now.

Patrick takes one second to consider the possibility of Jonny helping him adjust his posture in this position or--God forbid--try and help Kaner bend over and makes the only sane choice of this whole morning.

"Yeah, you know what, I think I'm good. I actually just remembered I got some skate issue I need checked out so uh, I'll go do that I guess. Right now. You have fun with your, uh, yoga or whatever. So, uh. See ya."

He hightails it outta there.

[someonesomewheredown]

If you think I'm noisy and annoying just wait until you see my thoughts! (they are also equally noisy and annoying)

[venusbby]

post it, or don't ♡

characters/pairings: itoshi rin x reader

warnings: one cuss word lol, not proofread sorry if there's any typos!!! have a good day people.

✿ summary: your tired boyfriend is not a big fan of your spam account being filled with his overly cute photos.

"stop that—"

"stop what?"

"you're taking pictures of me."

"im not, rinnie."

you definitely were.

how could you not take pictures of him when he's sprawled out on top of you like a house cat?

although he was trying his best not to put all of his weight on you, it was impossible to control himself. especially when his body was quite sore from his new workout routine.

rin was unusually clingy today, his exhaustion was responsible for that. initially, all he needed was to lie down on the bed and let his muscles rest against the mattress— but then he realised you were already there, scrolling through your social media.

he just couldn't say no when you opened your arms and called out to him with that soft voice of yours, and he had already started to dream of the satisfying feeling of your hands running through his hair by that time.

and that's how he ended up with his face nestled in your neck and his legs tangled with yours, much to your enjoyment and his instant regret when you clicked on the camera icon and watched the mess of the dark green hair that tickled your cheek.

he didn't realise anything at first because his eyes were closed and he was actually considering falling asleep right then and there. however, the clicking sound of your phone was enough to make him groan and hide his face further.

but your laugh was so soft yet contagious, right next to his ear, and he was holding onto that one string of hope that you wouldn't record a video of his immediate complaints.

"babyyy, say hi!" you said while doing the exact thing he didn't want you to do— recording a video. it was so fun to get on his nerves sometimes.

all he could do was give the side of your bare hips a light squeeze as he tried his best to speak quietly so the video wouldn't pick up what he was saying. "you make me fucking miserable."

your cheeks hurt from how hard you smiled. "alright, okay. i've got my pictures, im satisfied. i'll leave you alone now."

rin slowly peeked up when you placed your phone on the bedside table and shot a glare as you looked down at him. "you're not posting that. i'm tired of seeing my face on my own feed."

"yeah! totally not posting that."

"y/n." it's become a daily thing for him to use your name in that warning tone. "not even the paparazzi post as many pictures of me as you do."

you rolled your eyes. "it's because i'm your biggest fan. just one?"

"no."

"rinnie, pretty please. you just look so cute. gosh, you look even cuter right now." you tried to soften his edges a bit, feeling your chest implode with love because God, your boyfriend was so effortlessly cute. especially when his tired eyes were covered with his dark strands.

all you got in return was a grunt and rin was back to burying his face in the crook of your neck. he really didn't have the energy to deal with your weird ways of convincing. he just needed sleep, and you— he had both of his favourite things now.

you knew he granted you permission once he stopped, or more like gave up, and thanked him softly.

rin hummed as your hands ran over his neck and shoulders and lightly pressed his stiff muscles. a massage to top it all off, your boyfriend was quite literally seeing stars.

"squeeze harder," he mumbled, exhaling slowly when you did as he told you to.

"so, you've been working out."

he didn't respond, waiting for you to say something more related to that as you pondered while pressing your thumb into his skin to ease out the tension.

"don't i deserve a photo or two?" you proposed, a shameless grin on your face when you heard your lover make another noise in annoyance.

"maybe if you don't post that video," rin said, planting a quick kiss against your warm neck as he continued, knowing he had found a good solution. "i'll send you some."

and a few days later, you realised that it was a pretty good deal.

fjskfjskfndmcndkv. this is all i have to show. bye fellow rin enjoyers.

[strangesthirdeye]

Late Night Potions ( Severus Snape x Wife! Reader)

Summary: There are times when they are safe but still remind them of bitter thing.

Warning: it's Severus Snape, he's always slay, soft Severus, love, fluff, sweet, Severus being a good husband, ooc Severus Snape? Cannot sleep.. Severus survived Battle of Hogwarts.

As usual, I'm sorry if there are any wrong sentences or typos or grammatical mistakes, please forgive me and again English is not my first language, so I try to improve my language and writing in this way.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Another stir clockwise and one more peppermint, The calming draughts Severus made finally turned brown meaning it was ready. He grabbed the glass vial that was placed not far from where he was brewing and opened the lid of the vial and slowly he scooped the potion with a spoon then put it in the vial.

The clock showed 3 in the morning and Severus was still in his potion room in his own house which was a bit late for brewing something at that time but it was Severus of course he had time to brew something. Well, the reality is that he can't catch a wink of sleep directly, making him stare at the ceiling of the bedroom he and you share. While you were soundlessly sleeping, Severus decided to get out of bed without keeping you awake and decided to make some light potions to make himself tired so he could easily fall asleep.

But still, after the 3 potions he made and all the process of putting the three potions into the vial, he still couldn't catch his sleepiness and that made him frustrated.

The eye bags under his eyes are visible while his face is definitely tired but the strange thing is that he can't sleep even though his body language clearly shows that he needs to sleep.

He sighed tiredly then closed the glass vial and placed the potions on the other potions shelf according to the label. He rubbed his face trying to remove the fog from his eyes which indicated that he needed to sleep. He then swished his wand to carefully pack the potions tools on the table. And standby for the 4th brewing potions.

Severus then swished his wand towards the ingredient cabinet for the potion he wanted to make, which was the Blood Replenishing potion. All ingredients are floated and gently placed on the table. Severus then cleaned the standby cauldron and placed it on the bunsen burner. He then opened the bunsen burner with a small flame and cast Aguamenti into the cauldron and miraculously the cauldron was filled with water according to the prescribed measure.

While he waited for the water to heat for 5 minutes, he started flipping through his potions book to idly even though he was skilled and memorized all the potions he made, he still needed the potions book to be sure. Sometimes he will add some useful notes to the book so that when he teaches, he can teach students more efficiently.

After 5 minutes, he then reached the dew and was ready to be placed in the cauldron but stopped when he felt a hand hugging his abdomen from behind. He was stunned but then relieved when he found out it was you.

You who had just woken up from sleep after discovered that Severus was not in the bed hugged Severus' back tightly in a still sleepy state. Severus knew that you couldn't sleep without him because he knew that you still imagined him disappearing and never coming back after the terrible Battle of Hogwarts that happened a few months ago. Although Severus survived Nagini's attack and was put in St's Mungos for two months to recover from snake venom, you are still afraid that he will be gone.

Severus stiffened shoulders dropped then he leaned against your touch. Savoring the warm temperature from your body. He sighed tiredly. His hands that holding the potions ingredients were placed on the table and his fingers rubbed the back of your hand that wrapped around his abdomen. The flame of the Bunsen burner was extinguished by him.

"It's 3 am and you're brewing potions" you mumbled behind his shoulder.

"Just want to make myself tired so that I can sleep well" Severus said lowly in his deep tone.

"Nightmare?" You parted away from his shoulder and leaned the side of your head behind him.

"Incredulity" Severus sighed.

"Incredulity with what?" You questioned with perplexity.

"That we both survive that battle" Severus muttered.

You raised your head and instantly faced him. Your face looked up at his face. His tired eyes that clearly make you concerned with his state. You and him still have a traumatic experience from the battle, which makes you both uneasy when the matter is mentioned. It's lucky you both survived even though Severus had to be admitted to the hospital and you suffered several injuries that left scars that made you think how lucky you both were to survive the battle. It also means that you two are very strong to survive the battle.

You softened your look and reached Severus' sharp cheek and stroked it gently. Severus closed his eyes and leaned against your warm palm.

"I also wonder how we can survive that battle but that's the story line. We both survive with the hope that we both can be together. All the things we went through together before and after that battle are the main pillars of our strength. We survive because we know that we are need this 'life'." You replied softly, caressing Severus' cheek.

Severus let out a heavy sigh. "the things we went through, what if one of us didn't survive the battle? What if the battle was just a dream? What if I lost you?"

"stop it, Sev. Ignore those negative thoughts. We are both safe and alive. Voldermort and the Death Eater are gone. You don't need to be a double agent to know the plans of both parties. You are who you are now. We are both safe and sound without any obstacles . We have each other." you firmly said.

Severus leaned his forehead against yours with his eyes closed.

"What did I do to deserve you?" Severus whispered in a husky and deep tone that always made your knees tremble hearing that even though the two of you had been together for almost 6 years.

"You didn't do anything. It's me who came to you and saved you and you accept me as I am" you whispered back.

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Harvest Moon

Steven Grant X F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • Kinktober 2023 Masterlist • Day 4: Sex Pollen

Summary: Being Khonshu's avatar has some... unexpected effects.

A/N: I'm so sorry. Set before Steven knows about Marc.

Warnings: sex pollen - so dubcon (both sides are effected, Steven more than reader and both had a crush on the other before they were infected), love bites, cum eating, oral (f receiving), p in v sex, cream pie, cuming in troursers, so much cuuuuummmm, typos, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 4073

Steven couldn’t concentrate. 

It was strange, a fidget just below his skin. Like every muscle was contracting and relaxing at random intervals.

He took off his reading glasses and sighed, rubbing his eyes to try to shift whatever was going on. Maybe he was tired. 

Which didn’t make much sense. He was always tired. 

Perhaps this was the accumulation of trying to survive on three hours of sleep or less every day for most of his adult life. 

He tried again to focus on the book in front of him, leaning an elbow on his desk. The words twitched on the page, flickered as if they were going to jump up and run off the paper at any moment. 

The strange thing was, he didn’t feel tired. Quite the opposite in fact. He was full of energy, jittery as if he’d just downed five coffees made with Red Bull instead of water and a handful of Pro Plus. (Though, he usually steered clear of coffee - for some reason it made him sleepy.) 

Still, the fidgety, restless energy seemed to only build. Grow deep in the pit of his belly and squirm around like he’d swallowed live eels that were now making a home in his large intestine. 

It almost burned, the blood in his veins boiling from the inside. He stood up, agitated and restless. Maybe, maybe he just needed to go for a walk. Use up some anxious energy, yeah, that was it. 

Steven glanced at his phone, it was 19:54, not late. He could maybe walk to the corner shop and back. The fresh air would help. Surely that would put him right. 

He stood, fighting the urge to shake his muscles, and put on his trainers. 

Yeah, go out, go to the shop, come back, he’d feel better. He’d feel so much better. 

“I’ll be back in a sec' Gus.” He gave the goldfish a little wave as he put on his jacket and checked that he had his keys. 

That restless energy, the burn of it seemed to increase, grow even as he moved. Buzzed behind his eyes. 

Slowly, Marc was pulled forward, woken from deep down. He watched Steven move from the reflection in the fish tank, confused for a moment until… he recognised that energy, those sensations that were running along their nerves. 

Panic gripped hold of him as he tried to force his way to the front, to push Steven back. 

But… nothing. 

He swore and tried again, not caring if Steven heard him, he needed to take control, get the body to the storage locker, steal the door and take those medical-grade tranquillisers he hid under the mattress. 

How could he have been so stupid? How could he have lost track of the days so badly? 

He pushed forward again, trying to seize control. But it was hopeless like he was separated by a thick layer of glass. 

This was bad, this was bad, this was bad, this was so very, very bad. 

There was a small breeze, cool air that made Steven turn, look over his shoulder and glance about the flat for a window he had left open. Nothing. 

Marc swore loudly. This was Khonshu’s doing. It had to be. 

The god had been uncharacteristically silent the last few days, and quiet the previous couple of weeks. Luring Marc into a false sense of security and letting him give more and more time up to Steven. 

Poor Steven, who had no idea what he was in store for. 

The first time it had happened Marc had thought he was going to die. The way his heart beat, his blood burned, every single muscle crying out at once. He’d had enough panic attacks in his life to know that this certainly wasn’t one, and for a brief moment, he thought that he had been poisoned. 

It wasn’t until Khonshu appeared and explained. The phase of the moon at that time of the lunar year. It had been a cause of celebration, festivals honouring new life. And due to Marc’s role as an avatar, he was ‘gifted’ with the effects. 

A gift he would very much like to return and never see again. 

Khonshu had been… displeased by Marc’s rejection, by his unwillingness to observe the traditions of the old ways. But had stayed quiet when Marc sealed himself away and knocked himself out.

Marc had wrongly assumed that the moon god had got over it. Realised that there was no way his avatar would take part. 

He didn’t think he would use Steven instead. 

Marc had to take control, had to stop him from going outside, from running into other people and experiencing the effects. He tried to push forward again to no avail as Steven stepped out of the flat, his mind buzzing. 

Steven blinked heavily, trying to shift the little spots of light that had started to dance just at the very corners of his vision. He fumbled with his keys for a second, sweat beading on his forehead. When had the corridor become so hot? He pulled at his collar, trying to cool himself. 

There was a warmth growing in his lower stomach, and heavy an uncomfortable weight, like lead straining at his muscles. He needed… something. There was an odd carving at the back of his throat, a constriction of his windpipe that seemed to pull at-

“Hi Steven.”

He turned suddenly, his body moving well before his mind had even caught up. 

You smiled at him from the other side of the corridor as you stood outside your flat, your bag pulled over your shoulder, keys in hand.

Oh no, oh no, oh no, no, no. Marc screamed inside the headspace. Not you, not you, anyone but you. 

You had moved in a little over three months ago. Had smiled and chatted briefly with Steven when you both ran into each other in the lift. 

It was only four weeks ago when Steven had found himself outside in the streets of London late at night (sleepwalking again). He had managed to get back to the flat with the help of city mapper and it was only when he was outside the block of flats that he realised he didn’t have his keys. 

After a few nervous minutes, he had pressed your buzzer with shaking hands and stumbled out an apology. To his absolute shock and dizzying relief, you can come down to let him in with a kind smile. You had even invited him into your own home while he waited for the 24 locksmith to arrive. Served him cups of tea and vegan shortbread biscuits while you both talked. 

Steven had been quietly remorseful when the locksmith finally arrived. 

As he was leaving you had invited him to a live music event you were going to at the Fox and Firkin, but sadly Steven had been working that weekend. 

He had been steadily working up the courage to ask you out, something casual. Relaxed. Informal. So you both could talk and maybe he would get a chance to judge your interest on a proper date. But the longer he left it, the more awkward it seemed. The more nights he spent in the shower fisting his palm and moaning your name behind his hand. 

Marc pressed harder against the mental block, swearing under his breath as he fought for control. 

Steven’s pulse quickened, heat prickling all over his skin as blood rushed downwards. He swallowed, the embarrassment that he would normally experience completely swept away by a deep mind-numbing ache. “Hi.” He whispered. 

You frown a little. He looked like he was in a daze, his skin flushed and pupils wide. “You okay?” 

The softness in your voice, the genuine concern for him made Steven snap. A small growl escaped his chest. It was like all his senses had heightened and pinpointed, narrowed. He needed you. 

“Ste-”

He moves faster than you thought possible, surging forward and pinning you to the wall with a bruising strength that knocks the air from your lungs. You don’t even have time to gasp before his lips are on yours, his hands on your waist as he pushes his thigh between your legs.

You murmur his name into his mouth, your surprise cut off by the glide of his tongue and how his body presses into yours. 

Marc smacks against the barrier fruitlessly, unable to do much more than watch as Steven’s sensations begin to bleed into his own muscles. 

Steven’s skin is feverish, heat rolling off him in waves as he grinds against you. The hard outline of his cock presses against your stomach, you can almost feel his rapid heartbeat through the denim of his jeans. 

Instinctively you react to him, grabbing hold of his shoulder and neck as you kiss him back and slide your tongue against his as he kisses you greedily. For a second you’re sure you're dreaming. It’s the only possible explanation. There’s no way that your lovely, and seemingly oblivious to your every attempt at flirting, neighbour would suddenly jump you on a Thursday night and snog the life out of you.  

You pull at his hair, lightly at first, but increasing the pressure when that does nothing. You barely manage to yank his head back an inch before his lips are on yours again, all tongue and teeth as he nips a trail down to your jaw and sucks a messy bruise just below your ear. 

Somehow you manage to hold down your whimpered moan and speak, “Steven, what’s… I mean-oh shit-” You cut yourself off, biting down on your lip as his hand slide up to squeeze your breast, his thumb brushing over your hardening nipple. 

There’s a faint ghost of a breeze, though from where you’re not sure. For a second a small wave of dizziness and heat run across your skin. 

“Steven,” you try again even though you're pressing up against his every touch eagerly. “What’s going on?”

He groans against your neck. “I’m-I’m so sorry, I don’t know, I can’t, I need you so badly, I just,” he tries to halt his movements, to take his hands off your body, but the second he’s a fraction of a millimetre away from you an intense pain drills along his spine. He whimpers and presses closer, continuing to rub his heavy cock against your thigh. 

“Did you take something?” You gasp, breathless as you try (and fail) to not grind your hips in time with his. It’s the only explanation, right? Though if there was a drug that made someone intensely horny you were sure you’d have heard about it by now. 

He shakes his head, his mouth too preoccupied with sicking more love bites into your neck to speak. 

“Do you think someone could have drugged you?” 

Steven mutters something intelligible as he sinks his teeth into your skin and a strangled moan escapes your lips. This wasn’t right, none of this way right. Heat, stronger than anything you’d ever experienced before, began to burn in your lower belly. You had a crush on him, sure. You’d happily go on a date with him and be down for more after but this… You’d never been so desperate to fuck someone in your entire life. 

It was like you were starting to lose the ability to think clearly, and you were worryingly sure that if you let this go on much longer you wouldn’t have any issue with riding Steven right there in the middle of the hallway. 

“Steven,” you yanked his head back again by his hair, using an amount of force that would have normally been painful. 

Instead, Steven groaned, closing his eyes as he arched back exposing the taunt lines of his neck for you. 

“Love, please.” He whispered, though what he was begging for exactly, neither of you were sure. 

“Let’s go inside.” You muttered, rushing your words together in an effort to hold yourself together for a little while longer. 

You turn, just managing to struggle out of Steven’s grip to put your keys in the lock and open your front door. 

Steven moans as you move, but quickly goes back to grinding against you. Pressing himself up against the swell of your ass and sighing as he kisses your neck. 

You practically fall inside from Steven’s weight pushing against your back. But his strong hands on your hips keep you upright. His fingers slip under your top, greedily searching for your soft skin as you manage to close the door before he’s on top of you again.

He pushes you against the door, your chest pressed up against the wood as he pinches your nipples through the lace of your bra. He growls as you moan and arch back into him, your nails digging into the wood grain. 

He ruts against your ass, rubbing his clothed erection against your soft flesh with a burning vigour. The weeping head of his cock is soaking into his boxers, but he can’t stop himself, can’t break away for a single moment, can’t spare the few seconds it would take to undress. 

His little gasps and whimpers of air as he picks up his pace sends a flood of heat to your core and you gasp as he bites down on your neck hard. His left hand continues to squeeze your breast while his right snakes down and pushes under your leggings and underwear. 

There is the tiniest voice in the back of your head, a worry that you would normally have that things are going too fast, but Steven’s moans in your ears, the feeling of his hands on you drowns everything out. 

He presses his forefinger against your clit and moans at the wetness that he finds between your legs. Quickly, he circles your bundle of nerves over and over in time with the manic grind of his hips. 

His breathing stutters. Just being pressed up against you like this is too good, the burning along his veins turning into molten lava as he continues to buck like his life depended on it. 

The coil in his stomach starts to tighten uncontrollably, pressure at the base of his spine exploding outwards and-

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He moans loudly as he cums in his trousers, the pleasure whiting out all other thoughts as his hips falter. 

You slow your movements down, coming to a stop as Steven breaths hard against your back. You open your mouth to speak, to ask him if he feels better. But you never get the chance. 

In a blur he’s spinning you around, kissing your mouth harshly enough to knock your head back against the door with a thud. You barely register that despite obviously cumming, (the wetness on his jeans that press into you) he’s still rock hard and sweaty. His pulse thumps under your hands, so fast that you can barely distinguish each beat. 

He pulls you to the ground, practically lifting you off your feet, and tearing off your clothes as if they had personally offended him. You try to undress him, barely getting his jacket off his shoulders and not even starting on his t-shirt before he’s kissing down your body and shoving his face into your core. 

You gasp as he places a long flat lick through your folds, groaning at the taste and grinding his cock against the carpet. 

“Steven-”

“Need to make you cum, please,” his voice is gravelly and wrecked, burnt out and desperate but he doesn’t stop the movement of his tongue, ending the lick by sucking at your clit and quickly slipping two fingers inside you. 

He curls them perfectly, looking up at you with dark, pleading eyes. Pleasure sparks along your nerves as he fucks you hard with his fingers, watching your every reaction as he keeps his lips sucking firmly against your clit. 

You moan loudly, enough that you’re probably going to get a noise complaint, and screw up your eyes, your back arching off the carpet. 

The stretch of his thick fingers makes you whine as they work you open, finding every spot to make you fall apart as quickly as possible.

You grab hold of Steven’s hair with one hand, pressing him firmly against you and another low growl erupts from his chest as he pulls your left thigh over his shoulder and picks up the pace. 

His tongue and fingers move in a hypnotic tandem, dragging you closer and closer to the edge with a dizzying speed. Your toes curl, your breath catching in your throat and all you can do is just feel that mind-numbing pleasure he is pulling you towards.

His name falls out of your mouth in a repeated jumble as you move against him thoughtlessly, your hips chasing every touch. 

Steven moans against you, flicking your clit with the very tip of his tongue before sucking on it ruthlessly and stars explode behind your eyes.

You cum against him with a sob as your strength rushes out of you like a dam has been broken, your muscles clenching around him in utter bliss. 

But all too quickly for your liking his pulling his fingers out of you and sitting up. You’re barely back to thinking straight as you lean up on your elbows, about to question him when you stop in your tracks, your mouth hanging open.

Steven groans as he shoves his fingers into his mouth, lapping up your creamy release. He pushes at his aching cock with the heel of his free hand, his hips jerking up into the touch. He looks like a god, skin flushed and sweaty, his hair dishevelled and sticking out at windswept angles. Your cum all over the bottom half of his face. 

He gives you a dark look, his eyes almost blind with lust as he struggles to undo his fly without taking his fingers out of his mouth. 

You lean up and quickly help him, marvelling at the strength in his thick thighs as he kicks them free of his jeans and boxers. 

Your mouth goes dry and you swallow at the sight of him, the tip flushed and needy. Thick and long and you pause. Fuck. He was big, really big. Clarity seems to flash in your mind for the first time since you both went into your flat. How the hell were you going to fit that inside you?

Steven growls, kisses your neck, scraping his teeth over your pulse point and already edging forward as you lift up his t-shirt over his head. 

Being away from you for a second hurts. Makes his stomach twist and nerves scream. His dick twitches impatiently, already smearing precum (and his release from before) all over your thighs as he pushes himself between your legs. 

“Steven,” you start to say. The needy whine in your voice hampering your words. 

“Yes love?” He forces you back down and takes himself in hand. 

“I just, I’m-oh!” 

He’s not even thinking about his actions before he’s already sheathing himself inside your tight, wet heat. 

You gasp loudly, grabbing hold of his shoulders as he pushes impossibly deep, making you fuller than you have ever been and still he’s pressing deeper. 

You whine out his name in a sob as he bucks against you, pulling out a little before he pushes further in, stretching you wide. 

He swears under his breath, his eyes closed, brows furrowed together as he pulls out a centimetre before sinking deeper. Out, in, out, in, out, in, until finally he bottoms out. And it's heaven.

Steven doesn’t even give you a second to adjust to his size before he’s fucking you hard, bucking his hips like he wants to completely destroy you. Needs you to shatter under him. 

You’re so full you can practically feel him in your throat, the stretch so deep that it’s like he’s pushed all your internal organs higher, limiting your lung space and not letting you take a full breath. 

He grabs hold of the backs of your thighs, snarling as he forces them towards your chest, his fingers pressing bruises into your skin as he positions you into a mating press. His hips never falter, continuing their deep, hard onslaught that hits at a part of you you didn’t know existed. Every thrust sends a wave of pleasure up your spine, so perfect that it’s almost inhuman. Your slick coats his cock, smearing on his thighs as he fucks you within an inch of your life. 

“Steven,” you whine, your eyes rolling back as your second orgasm hurtles towards you. 

“Fuck, love,” he growls in your ear, biting at your neck. “So wet for me, so needy, I’m gonna break you, I’m gonna make you all mine.”

You moan loudly. Pleasure beginning to drown out every thought. His public bone grinds against your clit, making you want to scream.

“You know how many times I’ve cum thinking about you and what you’d taste like?” He growls as he snaps his hips in a relentless rhythm. “So fucking better than anything I could imagine.” 

You grab hold of him, your muscles tightening as his words send you over the edge. You cum hard, crying out as he ruts into you through it. 

He snarls as he cums, but his hips don’t stop as he pumps load after load of his spend into you and fucks it deeper until you're completely full. 

Your breathing starts to recover momentarily, but Steven is still rock hard and hitting that devastating spot inside of you so perfectly that it makes your head spin. 

Pleasure starts to creep back into your stomach and you whine, sobbing at the overstimulation. 

“Love, I’m so sorry,” he bites his lip, trying to slow his hips to no avail. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” 

“It’s okay,” you manage to stammer out as his thrusts punch the air from your lungs. “Don’t stop.” Tears start to form in the corners of your eyes. Too much, but you needed more. The idea of him stopping now boarding on painful. 

“Won’t stop, promise.” He moans against your lips, pushing you closer to the edge again. “Fuck!” He pulls out quickly and you whine. 

But you're barely given a second to lament the loss before Steven’s pulling you up with him. Your limbs are like jelly and you’re thankful for his surprising strength as he turns you around. 

You expect him to enter you doggy style but instead, he kneels down, his hands on your thighs and under your knees, and lowers you onto his cock with a dizzying speed. Your moan catches in your throat as he fills you. The stretch of this angle is intense as the head of his cock presses perfectly against that sweet spot inside. 

Steven groans as your walls clench around him, your own slick mixing with his cum to let him glide in. 

He places your legs outside of his and grabs hold of your breast with his right hand, kneading and squeezing it in time with his deep thrusts as his left toys and circles your clit. 

He bounces you up and down on his cock as he mouths at your neck, adding to the love bites from before, his chest pressed flush to your back. 

“S-Steven,” you barely get the word out, your nerves flayed raw with pleasure as he keeps pushing you higher and higher. You’re weak, light-headed and desperate as he growls in your ear; as he plays your body, brings you closer again like he had every cell memorised. “I’m gonna,” you sob. You don’t even get to finish the sentence. 

Another deep trust and you cum, squirming on his lap in bliss as your orgasm overtakes you. 

Steven swears, bucking up into you and biting his lip as your wall clench around him, trying to squeeze out every last drop as he follows you into that mind-shattering ecstasy. 

He cums deep, some spilling down his cock despite how tightly he is pressed inside, your pussy just too full to hold anymore. 

As you breathe deeply, trying to recover he holds you tightly, his hips still bucking upwards. His hard length still pushing firmly inside you. 

“Love,” he whines, reaching down again to stroke your clit. “Please, just one more, just one more.” 

How could you ever deny him? 

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Thank you for reading! I'm not doing my normal tag list for kinktober as to not overwhelm anyone, please let me know if you'd like to be added/taken off.

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[btdemaru]

hiiiyaaa! just found your blog, and im already obsessed 🤭 the theme is so cute too like wtf 🔛🔝 anyways i was wondering how the obey me brothers would react to an mc who’s very very good at giving massages! idk what it is but im very good at giving them so i wonder how they’d react to that 😭 again, super obsessed with ur blog and ur work <3

Obey me! Mc giving good massages to the brother's

note : thank u omg i just love pink tbh and i couldn't find any soft pink theme but im so glad you love my theme now 💕. AND THANK U AGAIN for suggesting this cause i need more idea juices for them [lipbite].... Gn!mc.

Warning : oiled up (not all), Might be ooc, if there's a misspelling/typo's I'm sorry, but mostly fluff cause idk if u wanted smut or not so enjoy

Lucifer

He will definitely resist it at first- the avatar if pride? The eldest?? A massage??? Do you think he's tired and overworked ?? [Yes]

But eventually gives in and lays down on the bed, i think he'd prefers clothes on or maybe just a t-shirt so that when you're done giving him the massage he can get back to work again

He's wrong 💀. Five minutes into the massage Lucifer's eye was starting to get droopy and heavy but he tried not to sleep

I think his back has alot of knots especially around his shoulder

If you knead/massage that part he'd probably slip out some groans or at least a satisfied noises

"i have no time for that, it'll only waste my time and i need to finish a few more-" before Lucifer could finish you tug his arm trying to drag him to the bed. He looks at you before sighing "fine, but i don't need this." Proceeds to lay down on his chest while he buried his face into the pillow.

You gently pressed your palms against his juicy broad shoulders before putting pressure on the tight knots "haaah.." he accidentally let out a satisfied sigh "oh? Seems like you're enjoying this after all!" Hearing you say that Lucifer went silent but still enjoys it, slowly drifting to sleep.

When you're done he's already too relaxed and knocked out at this point "hello? Earth to Lucifer! Were done here.. much better right?". No response at all from the mighty prideful demon below you, slowly with struggle you move him so he's laying on his back to find a peaceful look on his face as it was evident that he's definitely tired.

Mammon

Probs after you massage him once he'd want more some other time

Barges into your room after a 'tiring' day of having complaints and being chased for his debt just to ask for a massage

If you say no he'd look at you with puppy eyes while whining and pestering you about how shitty his day was

You (ofcourse) give in and he starts to take his jacket off leaving him in his white shirt smiling sheepishly at you before his back faces you

Mammon sighs in content as he immediately melts and relax into your touch, leaning more and more as he's starting to get a little too greedy for your touch. You pulled away only for him to gasp and turn over dramatically "hey why'd you do that? I thought the massage was-" you quickly cut him off "oh hush and let me do it properly and stop leaning all your weight towards me or lay down!" You spoke as he pouted and lay down on your bed.

He talks and talk about his day while you apply pressure on his muscles

Slowly he yawns and at the end of the session he sits up and thanked you before his eyes closes... now you have a sleepy eepy mammon

Leviathan

You cant tell me that he's not playing his video games most of the times or watching stuff to the point where his posture is BAD

And him sleeping in a bathtub doesn't help at all

He secretly has been wanting to ask for a massage from your for quite awhile but never really got the courage to ask even if you're close!

If you suggested it tho he wouldn't decline at all and just let you do your thing

You should probably tease him to take his hoodie off and just go shirtless to see how red he can be

"are you sure about the.. shirtless part?" He's still unsure but does it anyway since you're more experienced. What he didn't expect was a massage oil dripped onto his back from his shoulders all the way to his hip as you softly rubs it, making him jolts out of shock. "Wait wait wait w-what even was that?!" He looks at you "it's just an oil, relax."

He struggled to relax as he kept moving and wriggling slightly made you a little bit annoyed before gripping his waist and sits on his ass area so he doesn't move.

Levi's eye fluttered as your hand works magic on him, from his neck slowly moving down his shoulders and so on.

After you're done his face was less flushed as he thanked you and asked if he could ask for more in the future

Satan

He would probably droop himself over your shoulder fully dropping his whole weight onto your back

Nuzzling Into your neck before finally asking if you can massage him as his back was hurting from reading

If you accepted he'd happily lay down next to his cats (the one where he totally didn't sneak in)

He dimmed the light in the room and lays back down while he impatiently waits for you to begin

"just for a couple of minutes.. my back is killing me already" he said as he lays on his chest while slowly stroking the sleeping cat next to him "fine fine" after you spoke, you started to do your massage.

Satan couldn't help but melts and groans at the pleasure as the pressure on his back was slightly going away from your delicate but precise hands

Let's say 20 minutes has passed and you pull away thinking that satan is asleep and that you can stop, but as you do that his arms pulled you in again wanting for more "just ten more minutes- it feels so good.." well ten more minutes it is! (I cant say no to him)

Asmodeus

He's the one who sets up all these heart candles with flowery smell and assorted massage oil for you to choose

Asmo lured asked nicely for you to give him your perfect and heavenly massages

He'll even ask to give you a massage in return (it'll turn into more)

Loves the way your hand roams around and all over his body

Oh and asmo probably will go butt naked only with a towel to cover his ass

You gave in to him since he made the efforts of already setting the mood with pretty scented heart candles and bought the massage oil

When you start to carefully massage his neck, he's going to be loud and wouldn't mind if anyone outside his room hear him, slowly working down to his back Asmo is amazed of how good you are "where did you learn this? It feels so good~" he nuzzle back to his pillow after talking.

After you're finish, he'll insist to give you a massage in return so if you accept that then don't be suprised if his hands roam around places on your body slightly squeezing it (he'll ask tho) and perhaps more than just a massage

Beelzebub

You'd give him massages a few hours after his workout sessions

Loves the way your hands move all over his muscular body and would be a happy boy if you provided small snacks after

This is just a guess of mine but i think it'll be kinda hard? Like you'd need to put more pressure on him than the other's cause his muscles are hard

Aside from the back side, feel free to give him arm massage as well

Beel will stare at you when you're kneading his sore arm muscle, a small smile was shown on the corner of his lips and he leans back.

"you brought snacks..right?" He looked around the room and on the bed to find anything he van chew on "I'll give it to you after the massage so be patient." Beel actually did what you said and waited til the end of the massage

Gently rub his arms with a warm towel after pls he likes it.

After that he'd probably embrace you while he's eating the snacks and just enjoy how fuzzy n relaxed he feels and glad that you accepted his cuddles

Belphegor

He wouldn't ask for it in words, belphie would just tug your shirt and pat his back signaling he wants you to start massaging him

Loves LOVES when you give him scalp massages and gives his face kisses afterwards

Eventually will fall asleep but who's suprised atp lmfao

You better give him snuggles and cuddles when you're done cause i like to think he's abit clingy

Belphie pats his back as you guys were watching a movie "you want a massage like- right now?" You said while only getting a nod from the demon next to you, quickly gets in between your body and lays on your stomach as he waits for you to start "...hurry" belphie kept nuzzling his head on your hands as you sigh and starts to gently massage his head

Working your way across his scalp to cover all areas. Trying to massage his scalp using your fingertips for at least 5 minutes before small snores are starting to come out of belphie's lips, he would say it from time to time about how good of a massage you give and how much he enjoys it.

[htchnr]

Hello, I just finished Fallout and oh boy I’m in love with our favorite ghoul. So I have a request 😅 bounty hunter reader who is always one step ahead of Cooper and he’s fed up with her. Then the reader is in a deadly situation and he decides to rescue her, because even if he��s fed up that she’s always one step ahead of him, he respects her for that. Kind of complicated feelings stuff, a little fluff - I don’t know how to explain it better 😅

HEHEHEHE YAYYYYAYAYYAYAYA

YOU DONT UNDERSTAND THE EXCITEMENT I FELT WHEN SEEING MY FIRST REQUEST FOR COOPER

anyways, i'm busy writing the request, so have a lil snippet of it while i try to get it done and ready for tomorrow 👀🤭

(( sorry for any typos or grammar errors in this little snippet, i'm tired and have been writing nonstop for the past 3 hours 🥲 so pls ignore any errors they'll get cleaned up ))

[cinnajun]

༻¨*:·. atlas cried | ljn

summary | they say your soulmate is your perfect other half—whatever you lack, they have, and whatever they lack, you have. when lee jeno, your academy’s golden boy, approaches you and says you’re his soulmate, you can’t begin to understand how he—rich, gorgeous, never had to work a day in his life—could be the perfect match for you—poor, exhausted, and barely hanging onto the scholarship covering what would be a 65 million won tuition.

genre | high school au (rich boarding school style), soulmate!au, prep!jeno x fem!reader, prep! jaemin & reader (platonic), angst, slow burn, enemies-ish to lovers, kind of academic rivals but in a way that the rivalry is created by other people, im ngl y/n and jeno just don’t like each other, fake dating? au

warnings | did someone say violent academic pressure, heavy isolation, abusive parenting, malicious rumors, everybody is so unhappy, a lot of miscommunication, internalized misogyny, suicide mention (in passing), arson

wc | 24.7k

a/n: hello and welcome to my first long piece ! i hope it's up to your standards :') i'm not sure how i feel about it, as i've never written anything this long so i'm scared there's continuity issues and whatnot. nonetheless, please send me your feedback !! p.s. here is a short playlist comprised of 10 songs i listened to while i wrote this :) p.p.s im sorry for any egregious typos/poorly worded sentences in the last ~9k words, i proofread all of them while i was really tired lol

ft. a few people i made up

i. during the titan war, atlas sided with his fellow titans in battle to defeat the olympians.

THE WIND HOWLED OUTSIDE YOUR DORM BUILDING, rattling the windows of your dorm room and nearly obscuring the study music coming from your speakers. The sky and the wind told of an incoming storm, which made you want to hurry to the cafeteria and get dinner before you were trapped inside. Your homework, however, drowned out the hunger pangs in your stomach and told you that the endless bags of chips hidden under your bed would make a fine dinner.

“You know, they say your soulmate shoulders the weight of the world with you,” your roommate, Suhyeon, sighed, capturing your attention and effectively destroying the deep focus you had on your homework.

“Ok. And?”

She turned over onto her side, a bored expression taking over her face. “Doesn’t that seem scary?”

“I guess?”

“Would you want to share all your problems with someone else? Like, every single one?”

You resisted the urge to strangle her, as well as the urge to remind her that she does not have to keep a top five spot in her class in order to continue going to school. Instead, you spun your desk chair to face her bed, where she lay, staring at your plain white ceiling.

“Want to go get dinner?”

“With this wind? That sounds dreadful,” she replied, looking at you with a bored face. Then, with a sigh, she pushed herself up from the bed and swung her legs over the edge. “I’m not in the mood for another three bags of honey chips.”

To that, you’d have to agree. For the past three-and-a-half days, you and Suhyeon had eaten three bags of chips for dinner, as you were trapped with your head in your textbooks and Suhyeon refused to go to the dining hall without you (according to her, it would look weird to eat alone, and you were her only friend on campus).

“If I had to guess, we’ll be getting a day off tomorrow,” Suhyeon said, swiping her set of keys off her mostly unused desk. You stood up, cringing at the sound of your back cracking as you stretched. Your legs ached from how long you’d been sitting, as well as your back, but that wasn’t nearly as bad as the cramps you felt in your knees. Suhyeon grabbed her coat off the coat hook bolted to your door, slipping it over her uniform and zipping it up promptly.

You shuffled over and did the same, preemptively sliding the hood up so you could begin situating your hair under it. Suhyeon swung the door open and you obediently followed, emerging into the monotonous corridors of the dormitory.

“Are we due for blizzarding?”

“Yes ma’am.” Suhyeon nodded, swinging her arms back and forth as she half-skipped down the hall. “It’s not cold enough today, but, if it storms tonight, I bet we’ll wake up to a classes-have-been-canceled email.”

You sighed, wondering what that would mean for your math exam that you’d been slaving over for the past week and a half. It was the final midterm until you were granted a week off, which you and Suhyeon had excitedly planned to be spent entirely in your bedroom. If there was a snow day, you hoped your teacher would simply postpone it for Friday, rather than move it after the break altogether.

You opened the door to the stairwell, allowing Suhyeon to pass by you and get a head start on the stairs. You quickly followed, wishing you’d done your usual study-stretch schedule today. Your legs nearly gave out as you tried to stay caught up with your roommate, and you were shocked that you managed to make it to the first floor without falling down a flight of stairs.

Another strong gust of wind rattled the building, and you wondered if it was exactly a good idea to make a break for the dining hall.

Suhyeon let out a loud groan, stuffing her hands in her pockets. “I hate the second year-dormitory,” she announced, slowing to a stop in front of the first pair of doors to the outside. “Why do the first years have the indoor path to the dining hall? If anything, they should be the ones in the old, rickety dorms.”

“There’s nothing happy about second year, though. If they put all the depressing stuff halfway in, it won’t be as easy to drop out,” you said, taking the chance to run outside the moment the wind let up a bit. Suhyeon followed close behind you, catching up enough to lace an arm around yours as you ran through the school courtyard.

You practically bulldozed into the dining hall as another burst of wind began, which ended up with you and Suhyeon having to push the door closed as if you were trying to move a broken-down car. The door shut with a satisfying lock, leaving you in the entryway room that consisted of four doors and absolutely nothing else.

Suhyeon sighed, pushing through the second set of doors. The moment they opened, you were hit with the strong smell of spaghetti, which made the hunger pangs worsen substantially. Despite the time, the dining hall was mostly empty, save for a few groups who’d opted to spend their after-school time in there and any third years or first years who’d decided they were hungry.

They didn’t have to make a mad dash across campus to arrive without being blown away. In fact, none of them were even wearing any sort of rain gear.

“Oh god,” Suhyeon mumbled as you approached the serving counter, picking up two trays from the stack they had at the edge.

“What?”

“Golden boys are here.”

You looked up from your tray, turning your head to scan the cafeteria. Sure enough, all six of the golden boys—as they were called—sat at a table in the corner of the room, books littered across the table alongside bowls of spaghetti and an enormous amount of garlic bread. They seemed to be having a good time, laughing and making up essentially all the noise that rattled the room. Suhyeon always told you that there were seven of them, but one had the misfortune of taking a transfer year to some “partner school” off in Shanghai this year, and last year he was still a middle schooler.

You thought the seventh boy might’ve been a ghost that you couldn’t see, though.

One of the cafeteria ladies put a hefty bowl of spaghetti on your plate, along with an oddly gourmet-looking piece of garlic bread. There was a self-serve salad bar and dessert bar further down, but you weren’t too interested in having any of it for right now.

“Awe, they’re sitting a few tables down from our usual spot,” Suhyeon mumbled, stopping to grab a bowl of salad. You waited behind her, staring at the distance between their table of madness and your quaint corner. They were sitting adjacent to the window, likely to survey the weather, and your two-person table was situated in a corner between a false wall that separated the eating area from the first-year entrance. There were about six tables, give or take, between you and them.

“We’ll be fine. It’s not like we’re right next to them,” you said, turning towards her. She was finishing up her salad, placing the bowl on her unbalanced tray, and attempting to get it stable with her now-free other hand. You took that as your chance to begin your stroll to the table, with Suhyeon nervously following behind.

For some reason, she did not like the oh-so-famous golden boys. Any time they entered the conversation, she went silent, and always ended up throwing off the momentum of the conversation with her anxiety; when you tried to ask her about it, she always got defensive, saying she has “nothing to do with them” and “doesn’t know what you’re talking about.”

You allowed her to take the corner spot, frowning as she shoved herself into the corner and began picking at her food with her fork. You wondered if it was mean to do this when she so obviously had an issue with it, even if she insisted she didn’t.

“We can sit somewhere else…”

“No, you’re right,” Suhyeon cleared her throat, shaking her head. “It’s not like we’re right next to them. I’ll be fine.”

You took another look at her hidden in the corner, recognizing that she was not going to be fine, but you didn’t push any further. If you had to guess, the last thing she wanted to do was have you make a big deal about her discomfort.

You both ate quietly and quickly, hoping to finish before the oncoming storm hit. Due to the lack of conversation between you two, courtesy of the golden boys being twenty-ish feet away, it wasn’t hard to get through nearly the entire meal within a few seconds.

Your silence also made it quite easy to hear what the golden boys were talking about at their table, added to how easy it was to see them from the corner of your eye.

“I heard Nayeong say we’re getting tomorrow and Friday off,” Zhong Chenle reported, taking a long drink of his water. “They’re just waiting to make it look like it was a last-minute decision.”

“Wow, student council president certified? Must be true, then,” Na Jaemin replied, turning to Lee Donghyuck, who was dejectedly scrolling through his phone. If you had to guess, he’d struggled with the English exam that had taken place earlier that day, seeing as he was notoriously good at Japanese and nothing else. “What's gonna happen with the big math midterm tomorrow, then? I don’t want it to be after break, I’d seriously rather die.”

Donghyuck barely glanced up from his phone before answering. “Rumor has it they’re gonna proctor it in the dorm study rooms. Separate everyone into time slots and stuff. They’re doing it for the third and first years, too.”

Chenle groaned, letting his head dangle on the edge of his chair. Mark Lee, student council vice president and perhaps the second most adored student in the school, didn’t comment on their rumor-spreading. You expected him to be the one they relied on most for information, but 

You raised your head slowly, looking over at their table. Mark Lee didn’t comment because he was staring straight at you.

Suhyeon noticed your staring, following your eyesight towards Mark, who was now staring lasers through your head. She dropped her chopsticks into the mostly empty bowl, standing up from her chair suddenly. The movement, along with the clattering of metal, scared you, causing you to snap your head back towards her.

“I don’t feel good.”

Her face was turning pale and her eyes began to water, which was considerably uncharacteristic for her. You looked up at her, glancing down at your half-finished spaghetti and garlic bread. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Can we go back to the dorms, now?” she asked, placing a hand on her chest. “I feel really nauseous.”

“Yeah, of course,” you said, standing up. “We can just leave the plates. Let’s go.”

You glanced over at the golden boys’ table, which had gone quiet. Mark was whispering something to Lee Jeno, who was also staring at you now, arms crossed over his chest and blonde hair (when he showed up blonde at the beginning of the year, everybody lost it) wisped over his forehead.

Gently, you wrapped a hand around her shoulder, hugging her to your side as you made a swift departure from the cafeteria. You got odd looks from other students, but, for the most part, nobody got in the way of your exit. You emerged straight into the dangerous wind, not stopping despite how much it threatened to blow you away.

Being out of sight of the golden boys took a huge weight off your shoulders, one you didn’t know was there. Sometimes you garnered looks given your well-known scholarship student title, but that was mostly from first years who were shocked that could even happen. As far as you were aware, you had nothing to do with the golden boys—not even something as simple as a group project or anything.

Had you done something wrong? Were your grades slipping? Was there something going on concerning your scholarship? The wave of questions washing out your mind was causing you to feel nauseous; you didn’t want Mark Lee looking at you like that. You didn’t want any one of them looking at you like that.

You practically threw the dormitory’s doors open, dodging past anyone who might’ve been in your way. You couldn’t get Mark Lee’s stare out of your mind, because it was unexplainable, because it was unprompted, because it could mean you’d be kicked out of the academy and sent back to your terrible parents who would berate you for forever, telling you that you’re worthless and no better than your freeloading, addict siblings.

You skid to a stop in front of the dorm’s nursing office, knocking three times and not waiting for a response. You pushed Suhyeon inside, grabbing the dorm keys from her jacket pocket and giving the resident nurse an unnerved look.

“She’s not feeling well,” you explained, giving Suhyeon no time to protest you dropping her off in the nurse’s office. Instead, you practically slammed the door shut, staring at the monotonous wood for a moment more.

Your heart was pounding. Your mind was spinning. You could barely breathe.

Quietly, you turned towards the end of the hall, where the stairwell waited for you to climb it. Suddenly, it occurred to you that there was a slim chance you could be climbing it for the last few times beginning today.

As you approached, you wondered what your siblings would do if you lost the scholarship. They’d laugh at you, sneer, and say “I thought you were supposed to be the perfect child?” They’d watch as your parents struck you, yelled at you for being worthless and nothing better than the rest of them. They’d force you to kneel on rice while they “mourned” the loss of their shot at wealth, asking you why you didn’t sleep around with the student body to try and ensure a husband.

“You’ll never be this pretty again,” they would say. “Who cares about your soulmate? Will a soulmate bring you money? Comfort? Look at what happened to your father and I when we chose each other over wealth. Do you want to be like us?”

You slammed the door of your dorm shut behind you, falling onto your knees. You realized that you’d never turned your study music off, or your lights, or anything before you’d left for the dining hall.

You looked down at your arms, letting yourself hold up your right hand. There, in the very center of your palm, was a code that you’d memorized the moment you began to comprehend it: LJN.

You picked yourself off the floor, suppressing the panic tears that threatened to spill over. Instead, you approached your desk, dropping down onto the chair and shoving your math textbook out of the way. You instead chose to focus on the human biology book, long and heavy, that sat underneath it. Weakly, you flipped through the pages, stopping on the first page of a chapter entitled “Soulmates: Biology’s Biggest Mystery.”

The first paragraph read, “the concept of soulmates has long been a pillar of human society. The existence of a ‘soulmate marking’ has purportedly been around since the beginning of time, but the earliest recordings of it come from ancient Mesopotamian tomes depicting a ‘perfect other half’ that ‘completes the human body.’"

You must’ve tattooed these words on your brain when you were studying, but, even then, you couldn’t help but feel mystified every time you read through it. You never cared too much about the whole soulmate craze, considering you were still a teenager and didn’t need to care about “forever” yet, but there was always a sort of comfort that you found in it. The existence of your soulmate confirmed that you would not be chained to your parents for the rest of your life, and, one day, you’d be able to leave them behind for a better, happier life.

You read on, tracing the words of the chapter with your index finger.

“Around 97% of the population have a set of initials written somewhere on their body, one that they’re born with. Their soulmate will have a marking on the same part of their body with the coinciding set of initials. There have been no instances of these initials changing, even upon the death of one’s soulmate, meaning the connection is entirely permanent.”

There was someone out there who would pull you out of this. You were sure of it.

And, when that happened, your life would truly begin anew.

ii. the titans lost the war, and the olympians banished the titans to tartarus.

From beginning to end, your math midterm was a mess.

Sure enough, classes were canceled, but they proceeded with finishing things up before your week-long break began and all information previously learned left your mind. You’d been placed in a 3:30 time slot to take your exam, along with about 15 of your classmates, in the dormitory study room that you’d never once step foot into.

Upon arrival at 3:10, you were faced with the sad truth that both Huang Renjun and Lee Jeno were also in your time slot. Initially, you avoided their gaze, shrinking into the corner of the lounge and hiding behind your phone and wired earbuds. But, you were learning the world would never be kind to you because, the moment Lee Donghyuck emerged from the 1:30 time slot, he had a perfect view of you.

You subconsciously tried to hide once more, hunching down and allowing for your hair to fall over your face. You increased the volume of your music, a random, synthy song you’d fallen in love with some time last week, and tried to ignore how Lee Donghyuck’s gaze made you feel like an internationally wanted criminal.

Once they took note of you, the staring did not cease. Lee Donghyuck left for his dorm while you waited for your proctor to announce things were ready (which happened about a minute and a half after Donghyuck left).

You ripped your earbud out when you saw her appear out of the corner of your eye, jerking up to look at her and wishing your heart would stop beating so fast. “There’s assigned seating, which I will call out now. When you hear your name, please sit behind the person last called. If that person is sitting in the very back, please begin the next row in the front.”

Huang Renjun was called third, which took a small weight off your shoulders. That didn’t stop Jeno from looking at you, stealing glances and sometimes blatantly staring with those terrifyingly cold eyes of his.

“[First] [Last].”

You nearly tripped over your feet getting up, leaving your small bag along with your cell phone and earbuds on the chair you sat waiting on. You held your pen and pencil so tightly in your hand that your knuckles were pale, and you must’ve looked sick to the proctor, given the look she offered you as you passed beside her.

Your eyes narrowed in on the empty seat behind the last girl that was called—the student council secretary, Yeji—and you swiftly approached, half-returning the smile Yeji gave as you walked past.

Huang Renjun was one seat behind you and two rows over, meaning he would barely be able to see you. If you were lucky, Jeno would be the first to start his row, meaning he would be in front of you and therefore it would be impossible for him to look at you.

You weren’t sure why you still relied on luck when pretty much all of it was wasted when you got into this godforsaken school on a scholarship.

The proctor called an Osaki Shotaro, who came and took the seat behind you. Then, a Kim Juyeon who began the next row. Then, a Liu Yangyang who sat next to you.

“Lee Jeno.”

You could’ve shot yourself right then and there, especially as he sauntered over to the seat, dropping into it and immediately beginning to spin his pencil around his fingers. You could practically feel his stare like lasers being shot through the back of your head, unending and unwavering as the proctor called the final girl and shut the door behind her.

“Thank you for arriving smoothly and on time.”

You wished you would have skipped. Skipping might’ve cost you your scholarship and your future, but, if you got Suhyeon on your side and claimed you’d woken up severely ill but couldn’t make it to the nurse because Suhyeon had the 10:30 time slot and you woke up at 11, you might’ve been able to make it to the makeup date.

If only God had been kind enough to warn you about this one.

The proctor began to hand out your answer sheets and tests while droning on and on about rules, her words going in and out of your ears like the pointless documentaries your history teacher enjoyed showing. As if you hadn’t taken five of these exams already, she regurgitated these rules, causing your mind to spin more and your leg to bounce harder.

“You may begin.”

You barely began at all. For the entire test, your mind wasn’t focused on derivatives or any sort of equation you’d spent weeks memorizing—no, your mind was focused on Lee Jeno, Mark Lee, all the golden boys, and why they were suddenly so focused on you. You wrote down numbers and letters, plus signs and square roots, all while thinking about what they could want from you.

With every page flip, with every boxed answer and filled-in bubble, your mind fell deeper and deeper into your panicked trance. At some point, you began writing on autopilot with no mental capacity to tell whether or not what you wrote was correct. A part of you wondered why you cared so much when you were obviously about to become the first-ever scholarship student at the academy to lose their scholarship, to be the first investment that brought a net loss instead of a net gain.

Before you knew it, the test was over, and it was 5:15 pm on the dot. You felt like throwing up, a million spiders crawling up your stomach and throat as you stared at what you wholeheartedly believed to be a failed math test. Your mind spun—math had always been your worst subject, and you’d always teetered on the edge with it. As long as you excelled in other subjects, you’d be fine, but there was an absolute need to ensure you did not fall below rank five.

As long as you were never below five, you would be fine.

The proctor snatched your test up from your desk, taking a once over with a smile. “Congratulations on finishing, Ms. [Last],” she said, a formality she’d repeated to everyone but carried a special weight when she spoke to you.

You wanted to reach for it, take it back and run away with the paper. You couldn’t remember a single question you’d answered, let alone whether or not the answers were right. This would be the first (and last) time you’d drop below rank five in your exams, and you’d be packing up your bags when the grades dropped next week. This was the end of your paradise, all thanks to a few awry looks from the academy’s beloved golden boys.

“All papers have been collected. You are free to return to your dorms,” the proctor announced, placing the stack on her desk. You lingered on for a moment, staring at your hands and focusing on the pressure that weighed your shoulders down every waking moment of the day.

Once, Suhyeon was trying to get you to go shopping with her while you were studying. You refused vehemently, citing your grades as the reason why you couldn’t watch her spend thousands upon thousands on clothes she’d never wear while you cringed at every price tag you saw.

With one of her usual, airy sighs, she collapsed onto her bed, mumbling a hollow statement that stuck in your mind: “[First] [Last], forever crushed by the weight of the world.”

Your self wallowing was cut off by Lee Jeno stopping in front of your desk, looking down at you with his terrible cold stare. You returned his focus, fighting off the urge to curl into yourself and tell him to never speak to you again.

“I need to talk to you,” he said, shoving his hands into his blazer pockets. “I’ll meet you in the library at 8.”

You gave him a look that could only be described as confusion, tilting your head at the notion.

“The library closes at 5 tonight.”

“Does that matter to me?”

He scoffed a bit, not paying you another second. Instead, he sauntered off with Huang Renjun, who gave him a steady slap on the shoulder as he walked out. Renjun followed behind, saying, “You’ve got guts now, huh?” while continuing to hammer on his shoulder and laugh at his “guts.” All you could do was slowly lift yourself from your desk chair, thinking about what you would do upon your return to Jinhae-gu. What your ex-classmates, who’d screamed and cried with you when you received your scholarship notice in the middle of the school day, would say when you walked in, a husk of your former self.

What you’d do when you saw your parents and siblings again.

“Ms. [Last], now that exams are over for second years, I suggest you stop by Miss Choi’s office as soon as possible. I know how much pressure you’re under to retain such perfect grades,” the proctor said, causing you to be torn away from your mind once again.

You smiled weakly at her, nodding. “I will, ma’am. Thank you for your concern.”

“It’s no issue, sweetheart,” she said, dropping a hand onto your shoulder. “We all want to see you succeed.”

You bowed at her as a way to get her to stop touching you, rushing out of the classroom. You’d rather die than go see Miss Choi, who picked you apart too easily in your opinion. You didn’t like the way she seemed to know how you were feeling, how she tried to teach you how to carry the world, because Miss Choi—an alma mater of the academy by paid tuition and not by scholarship—would never know what this felt like, even if she followed you around for three months straight.

With your bag retrieved, you began your march up the stairwell, a new anger brewing in your heart. When you were gone, when there was a lack of honor student to bring up in the interviews and magazine features, when you worked up the nerve to post a forum piece on how the academy destroyed any bit of happiness you had, they’d understand that this wasn’t just academic pressure.

Suhyeon was right—you were forever crushed by the weight of the world because nobody else here wanted to carry their weight and believed there was no one better suited to pick it up other than you.

iii. tartarus was a deep abyss used as a prison for the titan gods,

“You can’t go out right now, the weather is too awful,” Suhyeon insisted, scrambling to reach for your keys. You grabbed them before her, dropping them in the pocket of the jacket you’d draped over your lounge clothes. “It’s dark and the snow is barreling down, [First]. Where could you possibly go right now?”

You bit your lip, staring down at her. She was dressed in her pajamas, practically ready for bed by this point, with a matching Hello Kitty pajama set and a headband pulling her hair away from her face. A pair of glasses sat low on the bridge of her nose, sliding down further the more she tried to discourage you from leaving.

“I just want to take a walk. It stopped snowing a while ago, so there’s no barreling down happening, and I have my snow boots on. Everything should be fine,” you insisted, slipping your gloves on. Suhyeon went to stand in front of the door, blocking your exit to the outside and further delaying your meet-up with Mr. Perfect.

“Promise you’ll be back before room checks.”

You sighed. If whatever Lee Jeno needed to speak to you about was important, he must’ve put something in place to ensure you wouldn’t get in trouble for missing room checks, but you couldn’t be sure. You nodded, waving her out of the way.

“I’ll be back before room checks. Swear on it.”

Uncomfortably, Suhyeon stepped away from the door, allowing you to pass without a word. You slipped out of your room, giving her one last glance before you shut the door behind you and isolated yourself in the dorm corridor. It was cold—everything was cold—and dark, with dim LEDs illuminating the hall floors and nothing else providing any sort of light. It was akin to that of a movie theater's stairs—just lit up enough that you could make it down the stairs without plunging to your doom.

You made your way to the stairwell, cringing as your shoes clicked against the wood of the stairs. You hoped that Jeno had done anything to protect you from the wrath of the late night staff, but you wondered if getting caught meant anything when you’d be gone in a week.

The dorm’s common area (or, more simply, the first floor) was completely devoid of everyone, as aligned with the school rules, which said no students should be out of their rooms past 7:30 on a weekday to avoid issues with student health or student safety. Room checks began at 9, which essentially meant you could be out and about until then, but nobody wanted their parents finding out they were screwing around instead of studying.

You took no time in crossing the common room, weaving through tables and couches in hopes that a teacher didn’t appear and tell you to get back to your room before this “hurt your future,” as they liked to tell you. When the doors to the dorm opened, you could’ve sworn you felt your heart drop into your feet—but, the doors opening did not yield a teacher or any staff member.

It yielded Na Jaemin.

Upon seeing you, he gave you a cordial smile and a nod. Jaemin was Lee Jeno’s second-in-command, his beginning and his end. From what you’d heard from classmates, they’d grown up together, being neighbors from the day they were born and being friends from the day they could speak. You barely saw one without the other, and you couldn’t lie when you said part of you was expecting Jaemin would be in the library along with Jeno tonight.

“Good evening, [First],” he greeted. You offered him an uncomfortable nod back, accompanied by an unsure smile and your shaking hands. “Library’s unlocked.”

You blinked a couple of times, suddenly clueless as to what he was talking about. Na Jaemin was blinding, from the way he smiled at you to the way he even looked at you.

“Ah, um, thanks,” you said, coming to your senses. “Sleep well, or something.”

Jaemin chuckled, nodding. “You too. Good luck!”

He passed by you without another glance, another word, disappearing into the men’s side of the second-year dorms. You watched his figure retreat for a moment, wondering if you’d run into any other golden boys on your way to the library. You hoped Jaemin was the only one.

As you emerged into the cold, night air, stepping onto the snow and sinking in almost immediately, you now found yourself focused on your brief interaction with Na Jaemin.

A while back, you’d heard that he didn’t have a soulmate.

You were just starting out, and, given the nature of your enrollment at the school, you’d had a slight amount of popularity. People hung around you with the idea that you’d somehow trick them into good study habits and unrivaled intelligence (to be honest, people still do), and that inevitably came with you hearing whatever gossip traveled around your class at the time.

“You know Na Jaemin? The boy who started this year and immediately made it in with Mark Lee’s crowd?” a girl asked you, sliding into your study table at the library. Instantly, she’d caught the attention of the other three students who asked to study with you, drawing them away from the math worksheet you were all working on. “Ah, [First], Mark Lee and his crew have been attending the academy since elementary school, so they kinda own the place. They never let anybody in with them until Na Jaemin.”

Upon hearing that, you’d mostly been impressed that somebody could afford that many years of tuition here, let alone send their child into academic hell from the moment they’d learned to read. Suhyeon hadn’t told you that she’d also lived the same life, yet, so this was your first exposure to what most students called the “originals” of the academy.

“He doesn’t have a soulmate.”

A sort of surprise settled in around the table, given how rare it was to be born soulmate-less. There was a “no way” thrown out, along with a couple of gasps of disbelief. You’d felt bad for him, wondering what it was like to live in a world where (mostly) everybody but you had a universally-fated life partner.

Your tablemates didn’t seem to think similarly to you.

“God, my mother would be overjoyed if I was soulmateless,” one of your classmates, Chaeyeon, hummed, leaning back on her chair and resting her elbow on the back of it. You turned to her, shocked that was her first reaction upon hearing about Na Jaemin’s soulmateless-ness. “He must be the golden child of his family.”

“He’s the youngest, too, so he was inevitably going to be the kid they married off. That’s one less person they’ll need to pay off.”

Na Jaemin, whether the rumor was true or not, was your way of finding out that rich people often trapped their younger children in loveless marriages, and paid off their soulmates to keep them from ever forming a relationship. They’d even had a saying for it: “An accomplished father’s best child is the child who can marry for money with no regrets.”

It horrified you because that was how your parents thought. You couldn’t imagine a life where everybody, not just your parents, thought that way.

As quietly as you could, you pushed the door to the library open, finding yourself in the sprawling lobby you were so acquainted with. Despite the academy being a lower grade school, the library was the kind that you’d find articles on and the kind where people would travel just to see it.

Usually, it was locked to the high heavens when it was closed due to its extensive collection of books no high schooler needed to read, but tonight was different. You wondered if Mark stole the keys from Nayeong and gave them to Jeno.

You shuffled towards the stairs, wondering if Lee Jeno was going to make you search for him. Your heart began pounding in your chest once again, thoughts of expulsion (losing your scholarship wasn’t technical expulsion, but it might as well have been) and disappointing everyone you know with a simple 89 on a math test.

The second floor was completely dark, which was creepier than you wanted it to be. Assuming Jeno wasn’t waiting for you in a pitch-black room, you continued up the stairwell, telling yourself Jeno wasn’t going to inform you of your impending doom despite the fact that he was a student, and that he wasn’t even on the student council.

You couldn’t imagine whatever else he wanted to talk to you about, though. You weren’t in the same sphere, hell, even in the same universe as each other—he hung around the golden boys and nobody else, breaking every rule the school had to offer and using his father’s name as an excuse. You hung out with the kids who lived closer to the bottom (whatever bottom meant at this god-forsaken school), the kids whose grades had a real impact on them rather than the ones who went to school to say they did.

The third floor was also completely dark but gave way to the dim lighting that lit up the fourth floor. For some reason, Lee Jeno had decided to taint your preferred study floor with whatever he had to tell you, but you supposed he had no clue that it was your usual study spot. After all, you were in different universes.

Taking the final few steps up to the fourth floor, you noticed that, while it was illuminated, there was no sign of Jeno anywhere. The lights were on and it was dead silent, with not a single movement or noise to even hint at another person being inside; but, from the way one of the tables had its chairs sprawled about and from the light smell of coffee, you could tell people had been in here recently.

If you had to guess who, it was the rest of the golden boys, given your run-in with Jaemin in the lobby of your dorm. You wondered where the rest of them went, particularly Donghyuck and Renjun, who hadn’t ventured through the lounge of the second-year dorm—hopefully, they weren’t still here, as the emptiness was somewhat calming.

You decided to venture further into the fourth floor, walking past the proof-of-life table and entering the rows upon rows of shelves. The fourth floor was the most academic, being the quietest at any given time. Nobody liked scaling four flights of stairs with the sole purpose of studying, so the only people who did were the ones who wanted to avoid the quiet yet prominent chatter on the lower floors.

And the golden boys apparently, but only past closing.

The silence of the room made your heart slow down to a calmer rate, as well as making any panic you were previously feeling dissipate. You were sure that, the moment you found Jeno, it would resume where it left off, but you were grateful for these few moments of calm before the storm you were about to step into.

You continued walking through the shelves, scanning the book’s spines and their titles as if you hadn’t seen them nearly every day for the past two years. You allowed the tips of your fingers to brush along the many different textures and indents of the well-loved books before you. If you were truly at the end of your time here, you ought to write a love letter to this library, thanking it for the countless hours you spent reading and learning in hopes that you, one day, would be a peer of the people around you and not just a spectacle.

At the edge of the shelves, there was another small clearing of desks and then a couple of couches that most students used to take naps during finals season, and that's where Lee Jeno waited for you. The moment you appeared from the woodwork, he noticed you, staring at you from the corner of his eye.

“I was thinking you weren’t going to come,” he said offhandedly. You furrowed your brows, pulling your phone out of your pocket—it was 8:17.  You hadn’t even noticed how slowly you were traveling, seeing as you left your dorm at 8:03.

As you’d expected, your heart had begun beating out of its chest, and you, once again, began to prepare for the worst. You slowly approached the couch adjacent to him, sitting down as slowly as you could. You sat like a board, stiff and nervous, waiting for him to explain himself even in the slightest.

Instead, he leaned over to the coffee table in front of you, pushing a small coffee cup towards you. You stared at it for a second, confused and a bit freaked out, but you picked it up nonetheless, thankful he’d thought to get you something warm. He continued to sit in silence, leaving you with a couple of moments to study him thoroughly.

Before today, you’d never really looked at him. Sure, you’d given him a couple of nervous glances, but there was something about Lee Jeno that made you feel inferior. He was the son of a major CEO, one of the biggest conglomerates in all of Korea (and maybe even Asia), somebody you would’ve never even dreamed of meeting three years ago. He was above the rules of the school, above the rules everywhere, dangling his parents’ name and a wad of cash above anyone who tried to tell him no.

His hair was bleached blonde, but it seemed so healthy that you could’ve mistaken it for his natural hair color if you hadn’t known any better. He’d shed all his snow-protectant layers, which were sprawled out along the remainder of the couch next to him. Despite the lack of need for it today, he was dressed in his usual uniform—a black blazer, white turtleneck, and black and green plaid pants—which was a blatant violation of the dress code due to the lack of a polo shirt, but you’d never see him get in trouble for it. He sat with an aura of regality that you could only try and imitate, with his leg lazily crossed over the other and his arm resting on the back of the couch. In his other hand was a cup of coffee like yours, but his was so hot that it was steaming from the lid’s opening.

“I didn’t know your last name until Mark told me,” he finally said, taking a sip of his burning hot coffee. You mimicked his movements, taking a sip from your own, trying to fight off any physical reaction to the bitterness of it.

“What do you mean?”

Jeno sighed, holding up his hand. You stared for a moment, narrowing your eyes in an attempt to make out the small letters on his palm. Then, all too quickly, the truth flooded your mind—the initials on your hand, LJN, and the initials on his, your very own set.

It shocked you so bad that you nearly dropped the cup of coffee. The reveal did nothing to soothe your nerves and, instead, amped up the panic a lot more. Your head spun at the thought, and, while you hated to say it, all you could think about was the negatives.

What would your parents say when they found out your soulmate was Lee Jeno, of all people? The son of a CEO-and-politician, the son of a man who drowned in money, a person who was born rich and would die rich? They’d never leave you alone once finding out, demanding check after check to ensure they never said a word about their relation to the Lees. They’d torment you for the rest of your life, and you’d forever be stuck under their reign of terror, forever their child, forever their moneybag.

On top of that, you’d never have an accomplishment that was fully tied to you again. People would see you as a connection, and they’d give you opportunities based upon that connection rather than based on your natural ability. You’d be respected because of who your soulmate was, not because of who you were, and you’d end up like the women you saw on TV—lifeless dolls with the title of “wife” and nothing else.

You thought meeting your soulmate was supposed to be this fateful encounter under the stars, the moment where you met the one person who would love you most. You expected to be mystified, sent to a world of love and comfort, sent to a world where your problems were nonexistent and the sun was shining and the birds sang tales of love and togetherness. You wanted to feel as though you were being embraced by constellations, struck by Cupid’s arrow as you stared at the person the universe decided was your fateful match.

Instead, you stared at Lee Jeno, and all you could feel was an overwhelming sense of disappointment.

“Well,” you mumbled, unsure of what you should do now. “What now?”

He didn’t seem to have a direct answer, either, simply taking another sip of his coffee. You mentally questioned how he was able to consume something that hot without burning the hell out of his tongue, but that wasn’t something you needed to dwell on.

When he didn’t respond, you took it upon yourself to ask another question and drill until you got all the answers you wanted.

“How long have you known?”

This was something he seemed to know the answer to. Without skipping a beat, he replied, “Mark told me about eight months ago after he saw your name on the award listings.”

To that, you felt your heart dry out a little bit more than it already was. Eight months was a long time to wait after knowing who your soulmate might be, especially considering that, eight months ago, he could’ve easily contacted you before the break between school years began. Wanting more out of him, you stayed silent, still trying to figure out what exactly you were feeling at that moment.

“I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure of it, but Suhyeon told me your initials about three months ago. That’s when my friends found out and started hounding me to tell you.”

Suhyeon? Last you checked, she was horrified by the thought of even being near the golden boys, let alone speaking to them. In what situation would she have been around them without you, especially given that she was talking to them? It seemed Lee Jeno was the sort of person who answered a question by creating more, which was something you didn’t appreciate in the slightest.

“So why now, then? You obviously weren’t in a hurry.”

He took another slow, awkward sip of his coffee, and, if you weren’t insane, it seemed like he was nervous to you. That ignited a sense of pride in you, and you wanted to assume most people would never stress Lee Jeno out in their lives. At the same time, you wanted to hurry things up and leave so that you wouldn’t have to think about him until you needed to.

“I have a family dinner next week, and my dad…my dad wants me to start talking to Lim Nayeong because he thinks I should marry her. No offense to Nayeong, but I’d rather die than marry her right out of high school, and you’re…the only way I can convince him otherwise.”

The room went dead silent. You were unsure how to respond to a declaration like that without being mean, and, with the quirk of your lips, you couldn’t help but allow the flood gates to open.

“I’m sorry, but how in the world am I supposed to help? In what world is marriage to me more advantageous? I'm a random hick from the countryside who got lucky and struck it big. If anything, I’d make your father more inclined to marry you off.” You couldn’t stop yourself from laughing at how ridiculous this was, a hand hovering over your mouth and your eyes filling with laughter-born tears. Jeno stared at you incredulously, not even reacting to your sudden outburst in the slightest.

“I’m sorry man, but you might be better off taking literally anybody else with the same initials as me. I’m not the help you need.”

“So you wouldn't care if your soulmate married someone else?”

The undertone of anger in his voice washed away your laughter in an instant, nearly making you jump. You dropped your hand to your lap, sighing—you wondered if you’d end up pouring out your whole life story to him tonight. “Are you kidding me? I’ve been waiting my whole life to meet my soulmate in hopes that they’d be some knight in shining armor. After these midterms, though, I’m thinking my scholarship is going to be revoked and I’ll be back to the land in the poor and underprivileged. Sorry, Jeno, but, once again, you’d be better off picking somebody else to bring along. I'm not going to let myself fall in love with something painfully unrealistic, even if that something is my universal other-half.”

Jeno seemed to be exasperated at every word that left your mouth, and you weren’t sure how you were meant to handle the increasing hostility that was starting to emanate from your supposed soulmate. The more things went south, the more you wanted to laugh and scream at yourself for thinking your soulmate would be some prince from a foreign land. You were so childish, thinking you’d get anything out of the whole ‘soulmate’ ruse—at least you’d be paid off after Nayeong got married to Jeno. Then, you might be able to emancipate yourself with a good lawyer and blackmail the Lees into more money for a nice, Seoul apartment to rent.

“Okay. Let’s make a bet, then. If you score over me in four out of the six subjects, you’ll be in my car on the way to my parents’ house next Friday. Deal?”

Even with your continued top-five status on the class leaderboards, you don’t think you’d ever managed to score above Lee Jeno in four subjects. The only things you consistently dominated in were English, Literature, and History—you’d achieved first place in all three during every single exam season you’d had at the academy—and the rest—sciences, math, anything STEM—you barely achieved the top five rankings that were required of you.

For some reason, you were antsy to receive your test scores, now. You’d never made a bet on whether or not you’d do worse than somebody, ever. It was nearly exhilarating, and you now felt there was a reward to the end of your scholarship: at the very, very least, you wouldn’t have to attend a Lee family dinner with Lee Jeno, who you were finding to be very unpleasant.

“Yeah, sure,” you scoffed, standing up from the couch and looking down at him. “Deal.”

With that, you approached the rows of books, leaving Jeno to consider what he thought he'd accomplish by bringing you along to anything.

iv. and most of the titans would spend eternity there.

Three days into break, and you haven’t done much of anything. Suhyeon was out with her other rich friends, her “very own posse” as she liked to call it, and had spent the past couple of days staying off campus—it left you with a lot of time to think.

For the most part, you wondered what would happen in the unlikely case Jeno won your bet. You’d never had to speak to someone like that, someone who wasn’t a wealthy teacher or classmate—his parents were the real, unbridled deal. People who spent thousands every day, not blinking an eye at four-digit totals or the state of their bank account.

It scared you. A lot.

You could dish out a big word now and then, offer a cordial smile, or impress with your general knowledge of the world, but there was nothing about you that would impress a multi-billionaire. Not even a party trick or a joke you’d spent a million years formulating.

That fear, rivaling the fear of expulsion, was what brought you to your current position in the corner of the campus on a rarely-cleaned picnic table, your head in your arms and your eyes trained towards a rose bush. According to the clock on your phone, class rankings had been posted eleven minutes ago, and you had no intention of checking any time soon.

Win or lose, there was no positive for you, and you didn't like that. In any other circumstance, retaining the ability to attend classes here and gaining letters of recommendation was the best possibility for you, as it would be for anyone else. However, the world had to curse you with an old-money, top-elite soulmate rather than an honest, just-rich-enough-to-afford-tuition soulmate—you seriously had run out of luck when you procured the scholarship.

“Oh? What are you doing out here, Miss Honor Student?” Na Jaemin asked, scaring you at the suddenness of his appearance. You jerked up, looking towards him flustered and a bit embarrassed. He looked at you questioningly, his hands cupped and held near his chest.

“What are you doing out here?”

“I suppose you asking makes more sense,” he laughed, approaching one of the rose bushes you’d been staring at. “I found a bee crawling on the ground. Poor thing has a broken wing,” he hummed, reaching his hands out to a flower. You didn’t try and second guess his words, believing his alibi without needing any proof. Instead, you looked away, your stomach crawling at the thought of carrying a bee across campus like that. “Although, haven’t rankings been posted? Anyone would expect you to be first in line.”

“I’m not worked up over it or anything,” you mumbled, resisting the urge to put your head back down and block him out of your world. “Going now would just yield a bunch of crowding around a tiny bulletin board. It’s too difficult.”

“If you started walking now, I’d bet the crowd’s mostly dissipated,” he suggested, coming back around to where he could be in your line of sight. “Want to walk together?”

Feeling cornered, you stood up, brushing the dust and dirt off the bottom of your bag. Jaemin smiled satisfyingly, offering an arm for you to take. In the most non-discreet way possible, you pretended to not see the offer, brushing past him quickly. He didn’t let the act bruise his ego, though, following behind you in earnest. You wondered if, due to your relationship with his best friend, he felt the need to ensure that you had no ill feelings towards him; or, maybe, he resonated with you, as both of you started at the academy much later than most of your classmates.

“I heard the big reveal didn’t go as nicely as it could have,” he began, keeping pace with you almost perfectly. Your steps were completely in sync, and you couldn’t help but notice how he’d done it on purpose rather than coincidentally. Another thing you’d heard about Na Jaemin was that he was a robot, but most people were joking when they said that—maybe, they could’ve been right.

“Well, we’re not exactly the most chemical pair.”

“Oh, don’t say that,” Jaemin said, lightly elbowing you in the arm. “He just doesn’t know how romance works. He’s all antsy right now because he told his dad to not invite Nayeong and her family to their very rare family dinners and used you as the excuse. I told him—I said, ‘Jeno, you can’t use your soulmate to get out of marriage unless you actually know your soulmate.’ And he got all pissy at me. I tried to make him make it the least bit romantic, but it sounds like he didn’t try at all.”

“He got me coffee.”

“Coffee is bitter and unromantic, though. I’d know.” Jaemin giggled, putting his arms behind his head. You approached the entrance to a corridor, which would effectively put you on the path to the bulletin. But, Jaemin took a sharp turn, leading you through the long way to get you there.

“Are you a ladies’ man? Romance-expert, or something?” you asked jokingly, not expecting any sort of genuine response. The closer you got to the truth made you start to get nervous again, words getting stuck at the top of your throat, impossible to speak yet impossible to swallow back down.

“Maybe I am.”

Jaemin looked towards you, giving you a look that you were half sure was him reading your mind and learning everything he possibly could about you. He was incredibly good at blending into you, even if you hadn’t talked much; everything he said coaxed more out of you, and every movement created a new line of conversation.

Every rumor you’d heard about him—so good at befriending people that it’s scary, a perfect speaker, the most eloquent student at the school—was proving to be true. He was monstrous, somebody you surely wouldn’t want to have on your bad side.

“You and I are similar, you know,” he said, tearing his away from you to look towards the door to the main school building. He opened it for you, waiting for you to enter before he did himself.

“How so?”

“My family’s new to this whole ‘rich and famous’ thing,” he began. You looked at him out of the corner of your eye, watching as he looked up to the ceiling. His eyes glittered like stars, reflecting everything they saw to a T. “We’re, like, the ultimate definition of new money. My dad hit it big with Jeno’s dad, got on his good side, and became the chair of a subsidiary…so I’m in a limbo of sorts.”

“God, I wish my dad hit it big with Jeno’s,” you snorted, picking at the nail polish coating your fingers. “Is that why you came in at the beginning of high school rather than earlier?”

“My dad wanted me to experience a little bit of what he did, at the very least. Both my mom and dad thought it’d be too much if they moved me from here to a normal high school, though…thus, the order.”

You nodded, feeling a pang of fear as you turned a corner and a crowd of whispering teenagers came into view. Your conversation with Jaemin ended the moment they did, instead making way for what, no matter what, would be the worst moments of your life so far.

The moment you reached the crowd, people began to stare at you, whispering under their breaths as they passed. It was like being the center exhibit at an expensive art show, being a piece made entirely for public reaction. The more you walked, the more the red sea parted, giving you a clear path to the bulletin board. Within seconds, you’d reached it, scanning from the bottom up.

Number two was Jeno, to no one’s surprise. In order, his rankings had been second for English, second for history, second for literature, first for math, second for science, and second in his elective.

One above him was you.

First in English. First in history. First in literature. Second for math. First for science. First for your elective.

At that moment, you could’ve passed out. You stared at the line of ones (and a single two) in front of you, wondering how in the world you achieve something like that. For the past two years, you’d battled against private tutors and possible instances of cheating, always barely being able to hit the mark for every single subject. You never struggled in any of the humanities, but…second in math after your catastrophe of a test and first in science—physics specifically—felt like an absolute lie to you.

It felt unreal. It felt like you’d become the kids whose parents paid for their grades, who spent hours with private tutors that cost hundreds of thousands of won per hour. It felt like, somehow, you’d hit a peak even though you were only seventeen.

Your ears seemed to open, hearing everything the students around you said. “She’s never let Lee Jeno pass her once,” someone said, whispering to their friend.

“Do you think she gave him math as a pity grade? I heard they were in the same time slot last Thursday.”

You blinked rapidly, trying to figure things out amongst the chatter. Every word that came out of your peers' mouths was a word that clouded your mind, creating new ideas that you’d never once considered.

“She’s a commoner and she’s beating Lee Jeno. That ought to hurt the Lee name, right?”

Since when have you become Jeno’s rival? For a simple stroke of luck on a few tests? You felt like you were going insane, your feet cemented to the floor and your hands shaking from the rush of adrenaline, mixed with an intense and sudden wave of relief, that came with reading your scholarship was intact.

“Protip,” Jaemin said, grabbing your attention with ease. He seemed to drag you back down to Earth, returning you to the pedestal on which you were expected to carry the world. “There’s only one thing that’ll put you above the title of student council president and daughter of a filthy rich tech couple, and that’s this.”

“Nayeong ranks first every year, too. This’ll barely help.”

“I don’t think so,” Jaemin chuckled. You looked at him, raising an accusatory brow; he mirrored your expression, looking down at you with eyes that sparkled with mischief and utter madness. “Miss Nayeong ranked seventh this time around.”

v. unlike his fellow titans, atlas had a different punishment.

There wasn’t a single word to be shared between you and Jeno, and you couldn’t ever see yourself getting to a point where there was.

After he’d sent you a text—where he got your number, you’re unsure—asking for your general clothing measurements, then dropping off a dress with a price tag you never, ever wanted to face again, you hadn’t spoken a word to each other.

Even as you climbed into the sleek, black car that waited for you about a couple of blocks away from campus, he didn’t so much as greet you, deciding that telling the driver to get going was a much better use of his time. For the man who got so upset when you showed little to no care about your soulmate status, you were quite surprised at his unwillingness to speak to you.

A part of you wanted to keep up the silence, to ignore the slight tug in your heart and the fact that you needed to know at least something about him so his parents didn’t get suspicious, but you weren’t going to embarrass yourself with him. Especially not in front of the moneybags that he called parents.

So, when you reached about ten minutes before your estimated time of arrival at a fancy hotel (rather than his house, which was the former location of this family dinner), you began to fiddle with your handbag, pulling out a small, folded piece of paper.

“This is my transcript thus far,” you said, breaking the silence between you two. He looked away from the window, staring down at the hand that carried the paper. “Someone told me your dad was big on grades. Thought it’d be useful for your argument.”

He pulled it from your fingertips, much gentler than you’d assume from Lee Jeno, and his eyes lingered on your hands. You’d painted your nails for the occasion, wiping off the half-chipped coat you previously had on in favor of a nicer, more sophisticated color. It matched the dress well, along with the makeup you’d begged Suhyeon to help you put on without telling her the occasion for it.

“Nice job on the nails,” he commented, looking away from them and putting the folded piece of paper in his pocket. “You look expensive.”

“Is that not the goal?”

“That’s precisely the goal. I need you to look like I dote on you,” Jeno mumbled, dropping his hands into his lap. “Sorry, but I’m going to really play up the scholarship student thing.”

“No worries. I understand not wanting to marry someone you don’t know.”

The more you thought about it, the more you began to pity him. Worrying about a money-based arranged marriage was a very first-world-problems-esque issue to be having, you could respect that it was something he didn’t want. You just wished he was asking you to be his scapegoat as a lie rather than as a reality—you’d feel much better if you were pretending to be his soulmate.

“I don’t think my father will be too interested in the details of our relationship, he’ll just want proof you’ll be able to measure up to Nayeong,” Jeno said, ignoring your earlier comment. “Activities, grades, I don’t care what, play up everything about yourself. He doesn’t care about in-laws, he cares about the money you can bring in.”

“Wow, sounds like a lovely man.”

Jeno cleared his throat, made uncomfortable by your short quip. “He is when he’s not talking about his paycheck.”

To you, it sounded like Jeno was trying to convince himself more than he was trying to convince you, but you weren’t in the mood to pry. Instead, you looked out the window once again, cringing at how snowy and cold it looked outside. You were going to freeze in this dress, even when you were wearing insulated tights underneath, even when it was long-sleeved and pretty thick.

When the hotel came into view, you embarrassingly recognized it as a place many social media celebrities enjoyed coming to. In your few moments of off time, you were sure you’d seen the outside in a few lifestyle vlogs or food review videos. It was fairly trendy; you had to give Jeno’s parents props for that.

Opposite to your reaction, Jeno scoffed at the sight of the luxury inn, evidently unsatisfied with it. “Of course she’d pick here,” he murmured to himself. You wondered if his siblings—who were going to be attending as you’d learned this morning—had been in charge of picking the restaurant, which would make more sense given its online reputation. He shared that he had two younger sisters and a younger brother, all of whom weren’t in high school yet, so you’d never met them or seen them before.

The driver pulled up to the extravagant porte-cochere—the fancy driveway outside of a hotel, which Suhyeon had taught you the name of—and slowed to a stop, but neither you nor Jeno moved.

“Remember,” he said, putting on the coaching voice he used to relay this to you earlier. “My mom will be the weak spot, so focus on her more than my dad. We both need to fight when my father grows argumentative, but you need to be more tactical and logical. My siblings will be on our side so don’t try to make a case to them.”

“What are their names again?”

“In order, Yeojin, Soeun, and Sunwoo.”

You recited their names, wondering why Jeno had received such an odd name compared to the rest of them. Nevertheless, you made the first move to exit the stationary car, regretting it the moment the night air hit your skin. A deep chill cemented itself in your stomach, and you began to wonder how it managed to be so unimaginably cold at all. Jeno followed behind you, mumbling something else as he joined you outside.

You briefly considered how this was going to go, given you’d never tried to act like you were in love with someone before. You were sure Jeno was a pro at fabricating things, plastering on disingenuous smiles and acting interested in the monetary, arrogant talk of wealthy adults. The most you’d done was work at your local convenience store for a summer.

The moment he joined up next to you, he linked his arm with yours, and you were off. You were thankful for the warmth you received from him, even if it was slightly uncomfortable given your situation. You preferred being warm over being comfortable in most situations.

The doors slid open automatically, leading you into a world entirely separate from your own. You tried to suppress the urge to ogle at everything, to approach the plants that lined the lobby and check if they were real, to run for the sole purpose of hearing your heels clack against the marble floor. You kept your jaw screwed shut and your eyes forward, even if all you wanted to do was “ooh” at the chandeliers on the ceiling.

You’d never forget this moment. Being a customer at a place you’d exclusively seen through rich influencers’ and celebrities’ social media felt ridiculous.

One glance up was all you allowed yourself—a simple, lingering stare—but it put you in last place anyway. When you looked back down, there was a girl, no older than 15, sprinting towards you, a big smile on her face. Jeno dropped your arm and pulled the girl into a hug, a smile blooming on his face as he did. You’d never seen him smile so genuinely in your life.

Another girl came forward as well, but she came slower, more timidly. She was certainly younger than the other girl, maybe around 11 or 12, with her hair done much simpler and her clothes much more juvenile. She passed by Jeno and (who you assumed to be) his sister, stopping in front of you. “Um, hello,” she said. You smiled, assuming this was when your grand performance was to begin.

“Hello there,” you replied, feeling a surge of confidence run through you. “Soeun, right?”

Her eyes practically doubled in size for a moment, and you hoped that meant your leap-in-the-dark guess had been correct. “Um, yeah. You’re [First], right?”

“That would be me, yes.”

Soeun opened her mouth to speak, but Yeojin quickly cut her off by dragging you into a highly unwelcome hug. You ignored the discomfort, reaching your arms around her and giving her a few awkward pats. “It’s so fun to meet you!” Yeojin squealed, and you briefly wondered how long Jeno had been telling his family about you before he directly told you.

“Yeojin,” Jeno said, a warning-esque tone in his voice. “Lay off a bit.”

You felt her freeze and then she immediately let go of you, practically pushing her off. A hand covered her mouth—her nails were perfectly manicured, done much better than your self-painted ones—and she gasped, and now you felt a bit overwhelmed by her. Soeun, to Yeojin’s side, looked away, her eyes shiny and a bit saddened; while she certainly wasn’t living a life anything similar to yours, you could see yourself in her, a bit.

“Sorry, I forget we’ve never met. You’re, like, big news on the lower grade campus,” Yeojin said. “Among the second years, you’re like a superhero or something. First place without a tutor! Rare, one-in-a-million scholarship student! I feel like I’m meeting a celebrity.”

Well, that was certainly something you didn’t want to hear. Yeojin was already the type of person you couldn’t handle well, if the past few minutes were anything to go off of, and she’d shared mildly upsetting information with you already. You didn’t want to be popular among middle schoolers at all.

“That’s nice, I suppose. Maybe a bit worrying,” you joked, and Yeojin seemed to think you were a comedian by the way she laughed. Jeno looked at you both, obviously sensing your lack of social capability. and chose that moment to switch the attention to Soeun.

“Do you want to lead us to our table, Soeun?” he asked, taking your arm into his once again. Now that you were in the warm, heated hotel, the gesture only made you feel uncomfortable rather than warmed. If you were eating outside, maybe you’d be able to handle any skinship he initiated to make your relationship seem more believable—you supposed that either way, you signed up for this.

Yeojin squealed at you two, though, which made everything about this so much less worth it. After being surrounded by high schoolers and adults for two entire years, you’d forgotten how insufferable 14-year-olds were, and, somehow, Yeojin had managed to assume the worst form of 14-year-old possible. You felt bad for her older self, who would, inevitably, look back on this period of her life with misery rather than fondness.

Soeun took the lead as she was asked to do, shuffling her feet across the marble flooring. It didn’t take long for Yeojin to take the lead, beginning to chatter on about something you managed to tune out pretty quickly. You took the time to gaze at the beauty around you, from intricate flower pots to huge pieces of art that lined the walls. This felt fake, almost, and you wondered how you’d managed to get this lucky with the game of fate. If only a future between you and Jeno felt plausible.

Soeun (more so Yeojin) led you up a set of marble stairs, and then, into a long, dimly lit corridor. It was filled with paintings and lined with the most beautifully-installed marble you’d ever seen. Then, you reached the door at the end, which was made of glass and had insanely intricate carvings on it. Along with that, it had the words “The Aviary” engraved onto the one empty spot among the carvings.

You felt faint. For a moment, you wondered how much Jeno’s parents’ bill would be for this meal, and then you decided to mentally scold yourself for even wondering that in the first place. Yeojin pushed the door open, letting both you and Soeun pass.

The Aviary was, quite possibly, the fanciest restaurant you’d ever been in. It had chandeliers everywhere and thin, walkable carpet on the floors, along with more art that lined every inch of the wall it possibly could. Every table had a pure white table cloth and velvet chairs, each one already perfectly set with a million different utensils and candles that lined the span of it. Soeun continued to lead you deeper into the restaurant. past waiters and tables and windows that showed a more elevated view of Seoul than you were expecting.

You must’ve missed scaling such a massive hill when you were on your way here, mostly due to the internal panic you were fighting off the entire time. You tried to suppress your ogling again, looking towards the floor and hoping you didn’t look like an absolute idiot.

Soeun then led you through a door and into another hallway, this one lined with several doors. She approached the one at the edge once again, and Yeojin beat her to the door again, opening it and waiting for you to enter.

You were instantly hit with the view of Lee Jeno’s father, who looked like your biggest fear. Next to him was his wife, Jeno’s mother, and a few chairs down was a boy who seemed to be about 15 as well, absorbed in his phone and dead to the world.

It kind of felt like you were about to undergo the reckoning, and your final opponents were every relevant religious figure. Every breath that escaped Jeno’s parents’ lips was revered and every blink was well documented, every lost eyelash and every slight movement was taken note of. It’d be accurate to say that Jeno’s parents were more important than the prime minister—they brought in the money and held up the economy, while all the prime minister did was sit and twiddle his fingers.

“You must be [First],” Jeno’s mother said, standing. A small smile graced her features, one that looked and felt apologetic. One glance at the man next to her told you all you needed to know about why she might’ve been apologetic.

“Yes,” you nodded, smiling back. You pulled your arm from Jeno’s, giving her a deep bow; most of the time, you’d learned those wealthier (and older) than you enjoyed the robotic, hardly-genuine signs of respect that most other adults in your life had abandoned. When you stood up straight again, you were pleased to see the impressed glint in her eyes.

“I’m Jeno’s mother,” she introduced, although you found it to be a bit redundant.

“It’s lovely to meet you, ma’am. I’ve heard much about you.”

You hoped she didn’t inquire about any knowledge of their family, as, other than basic facts and events, you knew next to nothing about their personal lives. Jeno’s mother took a seat, motioning to the chairs in front of her and her husband. You allowed Jeno to pull your chair out, internally questioning whether or not anyone had ever pulled your chair out for you.

The velvet seats were more comfortable than any seat you’d ever owned, from your desk chair at school to the lousy, old couch back at your parents' house. You couldn’t imagine how much they’d cost the restaurant, given that every single table had a set of at least four. Even if Jeno’s dad stared at you like you were the grossest, most disgusting thing you’d ever seen, at least you’d get to sit in this chair and eat the restaurant’s food.

“It’s lovely to see you again too, dear,” Mrs. Lee said, giving Jeno a new type of smile. This one was much different than the one she’d offered you—everything about this one carried a mother’s warmth, a mother’s love, drenched in such intense care that nothing could shake it. Jeno could’ve entered this restaurant in his unwashed gym clothes and she would’ve offered the same smile, unchanged and unshaken.

“Mother,” Jeno greeted with a nod. Then, he turned to his father and extended a steady glare. His father glared back, and, as Yeojin and Soeun took their seats next to Sunwoo, a subtle air of war settled over the table. There would be nothing pleasant about this dinner, even if the food was perfect and the view was delightful.

You took the moment of silence to remind yourself that this was not much of a dinner, rather, it was a challenge. A test to see if you were worthy to wed to Jeno one day, and a challenge to see if you could keep up the perfect-soulmate act to void any sort of marriage contract to Nayeong.

“Mr. Lee,” you said, taking the initiative to speak to your strongest opponent. “It’s wonderful to finally meet you, as well. Jeno speaks of you very highly.”

When he looked toward you, your blood ran cold. His stare, now protruding into your eyes rather than the side of your head, was icy and unwelcoming like you’d just beat him in a lawsuit or nothing. He was an unbreakable wall, and you told yourself that you only needed to find the single crack that was caused by love for his eldest son as if it would be easy.

“You’re the academy’s charity case for Jeno’s year, correct?”

Ouch. What an obvious insult, among the many he could’ve thrown at you—you were almost impressed that he didn’t even try to hide his hostility. You’d thought that, at the very least, he’d try to maintain his usual TV persona, but maybe you overestimated your worthiness of receiving that sort of respect. Before you could smile and tell him, yes, you are the charity case, Jeno flared up, ready to spit false fire at his father.

“I’d appreciate it if you didn't call my girlfriend a charity case, Father,” Jeno spat, eyes narrowed. You instinctively put a hand on his shoulder, figuring this would be a good, caring gesture given the situation. Being called somebody’s girlfriend felt foreign, but you supposed it wouldn’t be the best idea to disclose that. After all, this would likely be your one chance to impress him, if you had to guess. You were well acquainted with the idea of being a charity case, hell, you agreed.

“No, he’s right. If they didn’t have to maintain their image, they wouldn’t have the scholarship exams at all,” you said, keeping your eyes on Jeno’s father. Slowly, you dropped your hand from his shoulder, leaning back on the chair and ignoring the pounding of your heart. “Nevertheless, I am fully confident in my abilities. I deserve to be at a school like the academy. Even if I must endure a title like ‘charity case.’”

Jeno’s father turned his eyes towards Jeno and then back at you, the glare never faltering. You wondered how a single man harbored so much malice, and how Jeno saw his father in a good light. He seemed bitter and controlling, angry that his son—his next-of-kin, the boy who would one day be the king of his corporate kingdom—refused to marry a woman he did not know, right out of high school.

He did not say anything in return to your response, rather, picking up his delicately folded, fabric napkin and unraveling it to place on his lap. You mimicked his actions, remembering how Suhyeon once mentioned that you shouldn’t do something until the lead of the table has (among many other things she decided to recite to you one late night, so you could’ve been completely off the mark with that one). However, judging by the way everyone else seemed to do the same shortly after you, you assumed you guessed right.

“Jeno shared that you’re quite the prodigy, though, [First]. I mean, to be able to hold your own amongst children who have top-notch private tutors and spend all their time studying…I couldn’t imagine doing something like that,” Jeno’s mom said, trying to salvage what her husband destroyed. “If you weren’t so busy with your own schoolwork, I’d hire you to tutor the girls.”

“I’m honored you’d entrust me with furthering your children’s education,” you smiled, picking up the glass of water that was filled before you came in. You attempted to hold it as daintily as possible, taking the shortest, most sophisticated sip you could muster.

“Is that not what’s expected of her, though?” Jeno’s father was apparently determined to ruin your day, likely to destroy what little confidence you had and remove you from the academy (and Jeno’s life) completely. “It’s not impressive when she is merely fulfilling what is asked of her.”

You pondered what might’ve put his father on edge so quickly. You’d barely spoken to this man at all, let alone been in the same room as him, and he was already determined to get rid of you. Perhaps that was why he moved the dinner location from his home to here—he didn’t want this to be an official “meet-the-parents” event. He wanted it to be a family dinner without your presence at all.

You figured he would be thrilled to hear that you and his son likely had no future together.

“Is she not going above and beyond? If she was just meeting the scholarship requirements, why is she first place instead of fifth?” Jeno questioned, leaning back in his chair. You looked over, and, from the expression on his face, Jeno seemed actually upset. His ears were tinged red and his face was tight, and, with a quick once over, you could see that his fists were clenched and his shoulders were fairly tight.

To be honest, you couldn’t blame him. If you had to listen to your father reject your soulmate in favor of a random girl you barely knew, you’d be pretty pissed off too, no matter your relationship with your soulmate.

“Because she spends every second of the day with her head in a book, Jeno. Not because she has natural talent, or because she’s the prodigy your school claims she is,” he fired back. If you held any respect for Jeno’s father, you’d be utterly destroyed; luckily, you had no respect for any man that ran a company that was hinged on the work of underpaid laypeople, so you were unscathed by his words. “Nayeong is student council president, holds herself in the top five, does service whenever she can…and your little soulmate is relying on her connection to you to make anything of herself.”

You audibly snorted at that, raising an eyebrow. “I am?” you questioned, crossing your legs. A sick sense of amusement filled your chest, along with a burst of confidence. “With all due respect, sir, I did not aim for my scholarship with the intent of striking gold with my soulmate or significant other. I aimed for it because the only way I can make anything of myself is with my grades, because my mother didn’t give birth to me on a bed of cash.”

Jeno began to speak right after you, not granting any time for his father to reply to you. “Besides,” he said, slamming two pieces of paper—unfolded and crinkled—onto the table. “Nayeong got seventh this year.”

His father scanned over the papers, which you realized were both yours and Lim Nayeong’s transcripts. Yours, from where you sat, had nothing but ones, twos, and the occasional three or four, while hers had fours, fives, and even nines, without a single one in sight. Nayeong’s grades were nothing to be ashamed of given how busy she was with everything else, but next to yours, they didn’t measure up in the slightest.

It made you feel embarrassed. It made you want to say, “there is still not much of a difference between Nayeong and me, I just scored a few points more.”

“So compared to a girl with sevens, a student council position, and a respectable family,” Jeno’s father said slowly, returning to his complete ignorance of you. “You’d rather spend the rest of your life with a poor, unsightly girl who has slightly impressive grades, alcoholic parents, and a drug-addicted brother in prison?”

Your blood ran cold. Jeno’s jaw clenched, and his mother gasped, turning towards her husband and slapping his shoulder. “You promised me you wouldn’t bring that up—” she began but was quickly cut off by Jeno standing so suddenly that his chair fell over, banging against the ground and causing everybody to flinch. You looked up at him, an emptiness spreading through your chest.

“Talk to my girlfriend like that again,” he began, clenching his fists so hard that his hands began to shake. “And I will end you.”

He didn’t waste a moment turning towards the door, throwing it open, and marching out. You stood up quickly, albeit much more gracefully, draping the fabric napkin over the back of your chair and racing out of the room without another word. You didn’t look back, keeping your eyes on Jeno’s shrinking figure and walking as fast as you could without speeding up to a run. You sped through the restaurant, out into the lobby and past all the glitz and glamor of the hotel. By the time you caught up to him, Jeno was standing outside in the empty entry area, typing furiously on his phone.

“You—you didn’t have to blow up like that. I mean, we were just acting, and I can’t say I wasn’t expecting him to know.”

Jeno turned towards you, scoffing. “I just don’t get it.”

“Huh?” You tilted your head, wondering why he sounded so…mean. Angry, even.

“You’re perfect,” he said, looking up at the darkened sky. The lighting from the hotel entrance lit up his face, every feature and every imperfection (although scarce) perfectly on display, but you could’ve sworn the stars were what lit up his eyes. They sparkled like fireworks, the kind that was loud and Earth-shaking. “Everything about you. You’re pretty, you’re perfectly intelligent, you know how to speak to people and you know how to get your point across. You know when to smile and when to not. You know how to meet new people and try new things.”

You were confused. He launched compliment after compliment at you, but he sounded almost…bitter about it. Like he was unhappy you were all those things.

‘Um…” you mumbled, but couldn’t find the words to respond. You just stared, waiting for him to say anything, feeling the cold dive deeper into your skin—under your skin—and each shiver become more intense.

“There’s not a single thing you don’t beat me in but money. So what if you have terrible parents and an awful family, because you’re the picture-perfect poster girl—hell, you’re more than that. You have the perfect underdog story too, and he still hates you. He still prefers that—that witch,” he rambled, looking down and kicking a pebble that was next to his feet. “What does that mean for me? If you’re so terrible, so average despite your grades and your reputation, does that not mean I’m a failure of a son?”

“What? Jeno, I think you’re overreacting—”

“Oh, am I?” he turned, shoving his hands into his blazer pockets. “You’ve been ahead of me from the moment you stepped onto that god-forsaken campus, and you’ve given me, what, math as reparations? Every year, I have to use the excuse that I have the scholarship student to compete with, and that’s why I’m not the perfect top of the class, but he views you as obsolete. Doesn’t that mean I’m worse than obsolete? Huh?”

“Well, other than the fact that you’re agreeing with him,” you said, crossing your arms. “What does it matter what he thinks? Even if he gives his business to one of your siblings, you’ll still be drowning in cash. So what if you get married to Nayeong? Just cheat on her, or something, because, if she’s such a witch,” you paused, emphasizing your distaste with his nickname for her, “won’t she do the same?”

“How are you so okay with this?” he asked, raising his voice in the slightest. “You found out I was your soulmate and you didn’t even try to make a connection. You were okay with me using you to sidestep my father’s plans for me, you were okay with him relentlessly insulting you until it had something to do with your private life—why?”

“Why? Would you like it if a man you’d never met brought up your terrible at-home life and decided to equate it to you being terrible? I know my strengths, I know who I am, but it’s not very nice to be compared to 4 siblings who didn’t even attempt university and parents who barely work,” you replied, wondering why he was getting so upset. Minutes ago, he was spewing lines straight out of a drama, but now he was mobilizing against you, too. The worst part was that you couldn’t match his energy at all—maybe it was reactionary to the fact that you no longer had to sit through a dinner with his parents, but you couldn’t bring yourself to feel angry.

You were realizing that Jeno viewed you as a rival, while you never had. Before the past week, he was just another golden boy, one of the boys Suhyeon hated, one of the fancy popular boys you’d never talk to. It seemed as though he’d viewed you as an opponent from your first round of exams.

You felt bad, for some reason—guilty even. As if this was something you were meant to feel guilty for. You couldn’t imagine Jeno had been exactly thrilled when he found out you were his soulmate—judging by how long it took him to tell you, he wasn’t thrilled at all—and yet he was acting like you’d ruined his life.

You didn’t get it.

“You’re ridiculous.” Jeno laughed breathily, pacing around a bit. All you could do was watch, even when a car pulled up in front of you, likely for him to make his grand escape. “Jaemin was wrong. This was never going to work.”

“Did you ever think it was?” you rose a brow, suppressing a shiver that was beginning to creep down your back. “Sorry, Jeno, but we were destined for destruction. Even if we tried to foster something, that wouldn’t stop my parents from approaching the tabloids, and it wouldn’t stop the tabloids from painting me as a money-grabbing asshole. Count your blessings, okay? You’ll have everything and more. A loveless marriage is the least you need to deal with.”

He spun towards you, narrowing his eyes. “Just because I have money or a fancy house does not mean my life will be easy.”

You widened your eyes, nodding slowly. “Yeah, okay. Whatever you say.”

“Just—just get in the car. Leave, please.”

You turned towards the sleek, black car that was parked beside you. Without another word, you walked towards it, throwing the door open and basking in the heat that emanated out of it. You got in, slamming the door behind you, and watched Jeno get smaller and smaller as the driver drove you farther and farther away.

vi. instead of being banished to tartarus,

Suhyeon knows.

You can tell by the way she interacts with you, by the way she avoids you in the halls and stays out of the dorm until she absolutely can’t anymore. You can tell by the way she doesn’t interrupt your incessant studying, reignited by the end of break and the beginning of a new term, with mindless hypotheticals and useless facts. You can tell by the way she slips into her fight-or-flight persona when she speaks to you, the same person when she’s near the golden boys.

Reasonably, you’ve also begun to believe she’s not telling you something. Maybe you’ve always believed that, but it’s to a much larger extent now; there’s something important she’s not telling you. You’ve also concluded she was aware Jeno was your soulmate, but, for whatever reason, she chose not to tell you.

You can’t bring yourself to feel angry, no matter what you do, no matter how much you think about it. It stresses you out, how numb you feel in regards to your situation, how numb you’ve felt for the past two years or so. All your energy, and, by extension, all your emotions, have been poured into your grades and your social standing among professors and academic greats. There’s nothing left over to feel something for your own misgivings, unless it’s about school or your future.

It’s miserable here. Everything is miserable. But, if you give up, if you stop going, you’ll be trapped under the thumb of your parents forever, and you cannot live like that. No matter what, you cannot live like that.

“I see what you’re saying, [First],” Dr. Choi hummed, writing a few things down on her clipboard. “If you want me to be entirely honest with you, there’s not a single student on this campus that’s gone through anything as tough as you’re going through. Even if they’re being forced into an arranged marriage, even if they’re underestimated and outcasted by their parents. At the end of the day, unless they’re kicked out—which they won’t be—nobody here will ever know ‘struggle’ like you do.”

You want to feel vindicated by Dr. Choi’s words, but you simply can’t. You feel tired, overworked and underappreciated, and want nothing more than to return to your dorm room and go to bed.

“But, this ‘numbness’ you’re feeling…you say you’ve felt like this for a while?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I’m not one to deny things—it’s not my job to deny things—but I can safely say that’s likely not the case. Before last week, you had a good work-life balance…mostly…and you were happy. You never came to my office because you didn’t need to,” Dr. Choi said, causing you to look up at her from the coffee table between you. Her gaze was distressing, halfway implying she knew something you didn’t.

“What do you mean?”

“It feels similar, sure, because the only thing stressing you out then was school. Now, there’s two things, but only one is stressing you out…and you say you can’t feel anything else. It’s because you’re rejecting your soulmate.”

“Excuse me?”

“As far-fetched as it sounds, it’s true. Biologists like to say the concept of soulmates is nigh useless, and that the only thing denoting it is the little marking on your body, but…cognitive science says otherwise. Think of Jeno as half of your brain—the feeling part of your brain—and you’re the functioning part. He’s feeling too many emotions right now, and you’re feeling none, while he’s likely having trouble finding the motivation to do much of anything,” she explained. “It’s certainly not impossible to live without your soulmate, but rejecting them is a bit different. You’ll get over it one day, or you won’t, but for now it’ll be awful.”

You stayed silent, looking back down at the coffee table. You supposed it made sense, and she was right, you hadn’t worried about much other than your grades for the past two years. Your parents and family were always buzzing in the background, heightening your school stress by proxy, especially right now.

You didn’t like seeing Dr. Choi because it felt like she could never understand you, but perhaps she was making a solid point right now.

“So I just have to wait?”

“Yes. But, if you want my honest opinion, I don’t think anyone should attempt to reject their soulmate at 17,” she sighed, writing something else down on her clipboard. “You don’t know what love is, or what this is supposed to feel like. You feel like the world is ending because you’re not having the ‘love at first sight’ situation the TV tells you about. Try to form a relationship with him, even if it’s just a friendship, and don’t cut him out entirely. You’ll probably regret it later on.”

You doubted that, but you nodded like you were agreeing with her. She put her clipboard down on the table, allowing you to see your printed name and then tons of incomprehensible scribbles that only Dr. Choi could read. “Time’s up for today, unfortunately, as I have another student coming in. Don’t tell her I said she doesn’t know what struggle is, okay?”

You smiled hollowly, nodding. You stood up from the couch, picking up a hard candy from the bowl she kept on the table, considering that to be your reward for coming into the counselor’s office in the first place.

It was too bad you’d disregard all of her advice. At the end of the day, you were a teenager, and anything an adult said felt like an utter lie. You approached the office door, sliding it open and emerging into the hall. You wished the counselor’s office hadn’t been so far across campus, because now you had a far walk through the cold courtyard back to the dorm.

If they’d just put it in one of the class buildings rather than in the faculty building, your life would be much easier.

“Oh, [First]?”

You froze, turning your head to see the one-and-only Na Jaemin behind you. He sped up a bit, stopping as he reached your side. “Long time no see, genius. How are you?”

“Fine.”

You proceeded walking, as did he, keeping himself in step next to you. “Out of the counselor’s office? I heard once that they require you to go at least once a month for, y’know, academic stress. Rumor has it a scholarship student once offed himself because everything got too difficult.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard the rumor. It’s not required but every teacher encourages it more than I’d like them to,” you explained, unwrapping the pink hard candy and popping it in your mouth. Behind you, you heard the telling squeak of the counselor’s office door, and, out of curiosity, you turned to see who was going in after you.

Lim Nayeong. The coincidence could’ve made you laugh.

“It’s required for the student council, though. I guess being the quasi-leaders of the school is a bit harder than being the public reputation,” you joked, feeling the slightest bit relieved hearing Jaemin laugh in response.

“I guess so,” he replied, stopping you both at the elevator rather than the stairs. You sighed, suppressing the urge to say the stairs were always faster as he’d already pressed the shiny ‘down’ button. You could’ve walked off without him, but you weren’t an asshole, and if he wanted to walk with you, he could. The doors opened quickly, letting off a monotonous ‘ding’ as a result. Jaemin held his arm out, waiting for you to step inside before he did.

He was very gentlemanly, and you briefly considered that he was showing you his TV persona as an apology for not getting to receive Jeno’s father’s. Or, maybe, he was extending an apology from his own father, who somehow heard about how terribly you were treated.

“Look, Jeno didn’t mean it. He’s stressed about the thought of being tied down the moment he graduates, and he’s looking for every single way out. He thought you were a fool-proof plan, but he underestimated how far his father could go, and…well…”

It was more reasonable for Jaemin to be apologizing for Jeno. You weren’t very surprised that this was his main reason for talking to you, but you’d wished it would’ve been something more fulfilling than a secondary apology from Jeno.

“I don’t care. He can do what he wants, I’m not going to tell him how he can and can’t feel.”

“Okay, I’m gonna cut straight to the point,” Jaemin said, turning so that his whole body could face you. You gave him a judgmental look, wholly uninterested in whatever he was going to say to you. “Don’t reject Jeno now, all right? Wait until summer or something. For you, you just feel a little off, or, rather, you feel nothing at all, but this is practically overhauling everything in Jeno’s life. He nearly unfriended Donghyuck earlier because of a simple quip, and he can barely do anything without getting upset over it.”

“Do you think I can just…stop? I don’t feel any connection to him,” you said, hoping the elevator would hurry up. You cursed it for being so slow and old. “I don’t know what to tell you. I…I just don’t know.”

The lights on the elevator went off, and it jerked to a stop. You looked up, eyebrows furrowing. “You’re kidding me. Holy shit. You’re kidding me.”

You pressed your back to the wall of the elevator, sliding down to the floor. Jaemin didn’t say anything, but he pulled his phone out pretty quickly, typing frantically. You slid yours out as well, shocked to see a couple of texts from Suhyeon.

“hey where are you rn? we were just called down into the lounge,” read the first text. “god are you at the counselor’s office still? they’re not telling us what’s going on.”

You typed a quick response, saying you were still in the faculty building but the power went out as you were in the elevator. You hoped she didn’t question your elevator usage, putting your phone back into your pocket and ignoring the buzzing that ensued.

Jaemin was typing furiously from what you could see, the light from his phone being the only thing illuminating the elevator. He furrowed his brows, turning to look down at you. “Have you heard anything about what’s happening from anyone? None of my friends know, but they’ve all been gathered together for a while.”

“All I heard was that nobody was saying what’s happening.”

The moment you stopped talking, the lights flicked on, and the elevator began moving. You stood up, furrowing your brows as the floor counter turned from a “2” to a “1.”

When the doors opened, you were hit with a wave of heat and pure, black smoke. You began choking on the air, but Jaemin was fast acting and began to jam the “close door” button, along with the third floor button—where you’d just come from. The doors didn’t close fast enough, and the smoke began to spread into the elevator, making your eyes water and your lungs hurt. By the time the doors finally closed, there was enough smoke to keep you coughing, even if your shirt was haphazardly thrown over your mouth and nose.

The elevator began moving up, and a wave of panic blew through you. It broke through whatever invisible filter that had been causing you to feel numb for the past week or so, and a self-composed prayer fell past your lips, between coughs, over and over again: “please, go up, please, go up.”

The elevator seemed to move at a snail’s pace, but, as long as it was moving, you didn't care. Given how you’d just been up on the third floor, there was absolutely no way the fire had spread that far—the only issue was that there wasn’t exactly a staircase leading from the third floor down to the ground of the snowy outdoors.

“Someone’s setting the school on fire,” Jaemin said between coughs. “Some guy. Most everybody’s evacuated, but they apparently forgot us.”

“Maybe because they couldn’t get inside?” you shot back, feeling a wave of relief—not nearly strong enough to overpower the panic—when the “4” appeared on the screen. “Why the fuck didn’t the fire alarm go off?”

“Because this building is ancient and they’ve never thought to replace it,” Jaemin half-hissed. The doors opened to reveal a smokeless third floor, but, upon walking out, you learned the heat had reached the floor along with the scent of smoke.

“The counselor’s door is still closed,” you pointed out, not wasting a moment to begin walking that way. “They’re either still in there, or they found a way out.”

You refused to consider that they’d left and closed the door behind them, not wanting to believe you were stuck in a burning building with no way out. Suddenly, Jaemin slipped in a way that he slid, falling straight onto his back. You looked down at the floor, realizing it had been completely doused in what you could only assume was oil.

“No time to wait!” you exclaimed, bending down and grabbing Jaemin’s arm. You practically yanked him up from the floor, dragging him along with you while he stumbled trying to keep his footing. You made it to the counselor room’s door, throwing it open and rejoicing to the heavens that there was an open window.

You rushed towards it, letting go of Jaemin, who went back and slammed the door shut. You looked out of it, noticing Dr. Choi on the roof below it, helping Lim Nayeong get down to the ground. “Doctor!” you screeched, grabbing her attention. She looked up the moment Nayeong had made it to the ground, standing and turning towards you.

“Come on!” she yelled, waving her hands at you. Jaemin came up behind you, beginning to help you shove yourself through the small window in front of you. You mentally thanked him for lifting you up, allowing for you to go feet first rather than head first. You let yourself fall down to the rooftop, cringing at the pain in your ankle as you landed. You 

Dr. Choi rushed towards you, looking up at Jaemin, who began to extract himself from the building as well.

“What’s going on?” you asked, coughing out more of the smoke you inhaled earlier.

“Someone’s trying to burn down the school and they started with the faculty building first,” she said, a little too calm for the situation at hand. Jaemin landed in front of her, also wincing at the pressure it put on his legs. “We need to keep going. Come on.”

Nayeong was waiting at the bottom, standing next to a teacher you’d never seen before. The ground seemed far, too far for you to be happy about it, but you were assuming the way Nayeong made it down was thanks to the bushes that would’ve cushioned her fall. 

“You’re just coming down from the second story!” Nayeong yelled, reaching up at you. Dr. Choi gave you a slight push on the shoulder, to which you looked back at her like she was crazy. Jaemin didn’t wait, lowering himself to the roof. You watched as he, facing towards you, slid himself off, hanging onto the edge for a second. Nayeong rushed over, reaching up to help him safely get down to the ground.

“Kill me,” you mumbled, walking over to the edge. Slowly, you repeated Jaemin’s steps, feeling like you could barely move.

“You can do it, [First]!” Nayeong yelled, and you hoped she was holding her hands up like she had been before. You pushed yourself off, feeling the edge of the roof dig into your fingers as you began to hang off the edge. As fast as you’d begun hanging, though, two hands were on your calves, beckoning for you to let go.

So, you did. You hit the ground with a quiet crunch thanks to the snow, but an unexpected shooting pain traveled up your ankle and calf, causing you to nearly fall over into the snow. Jaemin caught you, but Nayeong looked at you, furrowing her brows.

“Are you okay?”

“I think my ankle is sprained,” you mumbled hoarsely, steadying yourself and pushing yourself away from Jaemin. You took your phone out of your pocket, staring at a wave of texts you’d received from Suhyeon, begging you to tell her you were okay and that you’d made it out. You shakily typed a short “I’m fine” before shoving your phone back into your coat.

Dr. Choi made it down from the roof, and both her and the teacher began walking in the direction of the parking lot. “Come on!” Dr. Choi yelled, leading you all away from the building that was still going up in flames. Your legs shook as the panic began to subside, and a mere glance back held an aura of complete death. The first two floors of the faculty building were covered in flames, likely not an ounce left of what once was in there.

The three students—you, Nayeong, and Jaemin—were led into Dr. Choi’s car, while the other teacher went and found his own. Jaemin sat in the front while you awkwardly sat next to Nayeong, trying to process what you had just gone through.

“I cannot believe,” Dr. Choi began, starting her car and wasting no time in flooring it out of the parking lot. As you drove out onto the street next to the school, you caught sight of a fire truck in the distance, speeding towards the school. “They didn’t even try to tell us. I thought you were gone for good, [First]. Oh my god.”

Nayeong didn’t say anything, keeping her hands in her lap and her eyes out the window. You wondered what would happen to your belongings, but you weren’t nervous about it reaching the second year building when it was on the farthest edge of campus.

Dr. Choi asked Jaemin to dial a number on her phone, to which he politely obliged. You took your phone out again, which yielded several texts from Suhyeon once again and a single text from someone else.

The moment the recipient of Dr. Choi’s call picked up, she began to scream at them, but you were easily able to drown out the yelling with your focus on the text on your phone.

“Are you okay?”

You wondered, briefly, where Jeno got your number.

“I’m fine.”

vii. zeus enslaved atlas

It took a total of two hours to arrive at the hotel in which the school evacuated all the students too, and you wondered why they had to pick a fancy hotel rather than one of the respectable ones that were actually near campus. You were met with a personal greeting from the principal, who was trying to save his ass after essentially leaving the four of you (and more, most likely) for dead.

Dr. Choi didn’t waste a second to begin screaming at him some more, but you blew past her with Nayeong, who still hadn’t spoken to you but was sticking to your side practically. There was a sort of trauma-bonding between you two now, apparently, which was a bit ironic given both of your situations.

You’d been placed in a hotel room with Suhyeon, as according to your current rooming arrangements, and were told to wait in your rooms until there was more information to be distributed amongst the students. Nayeong parted from you when this happened, taking her key and disappearing off into a corridor. You chose to take the other one, walking past several students who had disregarded the plea to stay in the rooms and were now gossiping in the halls.

“I heard they might have to close the school down for a year,” somebody whispered, causing you to pause and nearly stop walking. Instead of stopping in the middle of the hall, you slipped your phone from your pocket, leaning against a wall and scrolling through random apps.

“Seriously? I guess that won’t be an issue, most of us can just transfer to another private school, but what about international and scholarship students?”

“I’m sure international students will be fine, but rumor has it the school might drop scholarship students—partial and entire. They’re scrambling to make sure their library is still intact, and, if it isn’t, they’ll need hundreds of thousands of won to restore it. They’ll never keep some upper middle class loser if it means they can keep their pride and joy safe and sound.”

There was a certain ache in your heart at that, but you were tired, and you felt like collapsing. It was funny how, just a couple weeks ago, you were panicking over your finals and doing anything to hang onto your 65-million scholarship, but, now, you didn’t feel anything. At least if you got dropped, it wouldn’t be a quasi-expulsion. You’d still have kept your pride, and your parents could complain to the school about how they had to actually pay for you, now.

You continued through the corridor, skipping the elevator for the stairs. You’d halfway forgotten what floor you were on—you’d either been told room 314 or room 414—but you weren’t too opposed to simply checking both. Holding your key up to the scanner would be enough to know, and it was unlikely the occupants of the other room would even know you tried.

Upon your ascent up the stairs, you were forced to remember the slight pain in your ankle, which had subsided greatly over the past few hours, and part of you wished you had used the elevator. The other part of you said you’d never take an elevator again, even if a gun was to your head. Each step was a testament to what you’d experienced over the past couple of years, culminating in these fleeting moments in which you had nothing left.

In a week, you supposed your dorm would be cleaned out, and you’d be hugging Suhyeon goodbye for the last time. Maybe a reporter would approach you, ask why the closing seemed so sudden, and you would tell them you almost burnt to death because they were too lazy to fix their smoke alarms. You’d tell them that the conditions to meet your scholarship were ridiculous, not because their students were too smart, but because their student’s parents had a million personal tutors at their beck and call.

You emerged onto the third floor, hit in the face with a strong scent of detergent and cleaning supplies, and began trudging through the halls. Given the couple of familiar faces—classmates you’d never spoken to before—standing next to a decorative table, you hoped the 300s were the second year floor and you didn’t have to walk up another flight.

The space between rooms was insane, and you couldn’t imagine what might be inside. A kitchen, a couch, and an entire fireplace, anything that a rich person required in their hotel room. They were much bigger than the dorms that people paid millions to live in, and this was all paid for by the school. For a brief moment, you considered your fancy, rich-person academy to be a scam—it was, you always knew it was—and wondered why they couldn’t build dorms like this. As you walked through the corridor, you realized how you barely had made it past five rooms, and wished they had picked a normal hotel for you to temporarily live in as they figured out how to break the news of your removal from the school.

You turned a corner, admiring a pretty bouquet in a terrible intricate vase that brought a smile to your face. You stopped, reaching your hands out to feel whether or not they were real and letting out a gasp of surprise when they actually were. The flowers were vibrant, yellows and purples and pinks all tied together with a wisp of baby’s breath, and perfectly taken care of; they couldn’t have been cut more than a day ago. The hotel must’ve had some sort of private gardens, as there was no way these were bought from a random flower shop down the street.

“[First]?”

The flowers lost their color, all at once. You stood up straight, looking towards Lee Jeno, who’d just so happened to find you right now.

“Jeno.”

He stared at you for a moment, his hair messy and his roots just beginning to show. He was dressed in lounge clothes, a t-shirt and black, baggy pants that looked about three sizes too big. If he didn’t say anything soon, you’d continue your trek to room 314, brushing past him and leaving him to stare at the blank wall behind you.

“Can we talk?”

“Okay.”

You turned towards him completely, crossing your arms over your chest. He cleared his throat, looking down at the floor for a moment. “Like, not in the hallway. My room…is just down the hall.”

“All right then.”

He stared at you for a moment more, halfway shocked you agreed. Maybe it was a side effect of the events of today—for a brief moment, you realized you didn’t know what time it was—from your counseling to the hours-long car ride you endured after what was likely the most traumatic moment of your life. You wanted to disappear, fall into a rabbit hole and wake up in Wonderland, where nobody would know who you were.

When he began to walk down the hall, turning his back to you, you followed, bidding your pretty bouquet goodbye. You walked deeper into the corridor, stopping at a room labeled “309.” It was at the edge of the corridor, with another hall connecting to it. You assumed 314 was down there, so it would at least be a short trip to your assumed hotel room.

Jeno tapped his keycard on the lock, a loud click accompanied by a green light resounding through your ears. He pushed the door open, heading inside and holding it open for you. As you walked in, you noticed an unfamiliar presence on the couch—Lee Donghyuck, the only golden boy you’d met before. During your first year, you’d done a group project together, you’d let him off for not doing any of his work, and you ended up vouching for him in front of the teacher; as a result, he’d gifted you a couple of candy bars and a swift thank you. “I’ll return the favor at some point,” he’d said, walking off without another word.

“Out,” Jeno said, keeping eye contact with Donghyuck. He stared up at his friend, eyebrow raised, before glancing at you.

“‘Sup, fire girl,” he said, standing from the couch. Donghyuck turned his attention to Jeno, giving him a stern, very-unlike-him glare. “You promised me.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know.”

“Do you?”

With that, Donghyuck brushed past Jeno and you, emerging out into the corridor. The door slammed behind him, causing you to flinch somewhat. Jeno took a seat on the couch, right where Donghyuck was sitting, and motioned to the seat next to him. You obliged, sitting as far away from him as you possibly could and staring at him until he spoke.

“Are you doing okay?”

“No.”

“I’m…sorry you got left behind. I won’t lie, Suhyeon started crying so hard she needed to take her own car, and that worried me. A lot. I thought about things.”

“And?”

“I’m sorry,” he finally said, looking down at his hands. “I wasn’t nice. I overreacted and was overly jealous. It’s my fault, so I apologize.”

“I understand,” you nodded. “If it’s any consolation, I’m jealous of you too.”

You leaned back into the couch, sighing. “Your family is so…picture perfect,” you began, trying to find the words to articulate your thoughts. “Sure, you have altercations, peculiar ones at that, but I could tell you were close. From the way you hugged Yeojin, to the way your mother looked at you…you’re living a dream I could only hope to have one day.”

He stayed silent, letting you talk. You figured you deserved as much, given how your day has been. “My parents are awful. I was the kid they didn’t want, and all my siblings are a lot older than me. As your dad said, one of them ended up in jail. I depend on this school to keep me away from them, so I can have a better life now rather than when I move out. Even then, I know they’ll harass me forever if I end up with a nice job with good money. You’ll never experience that.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, but you shook your head, rejecting it.

“No reason to be. I can’t change who my family is, but I can change the direction my life goes. That’s all that matters.”

You felt Jeno’s eyes on you, and, when you looked over, you found him looking at you. He was pretty, as he’d always been, even when he was dressed for bed. His hair fell into his eyes, and you mentally visualized him with black hair—he looked nice no matter what.

“You’re a very beautiful person, [First].” The comment brought heat to your cheeks and caused your heart to skip a beat, and you contemplated whether or not this was what Dr. Choi meant by not rejecting him. “If…if there’s any way, I’d like to make this work. I’d like to make us work.”

You sighed, biting the inside of your cheek. “I suppose that would be nice. I was unreasonable before, mostly because I don’t want people lessening my achievements because of who my soulmate is. Sorry.”

“I get it. My mom always told me that would happen if my soulmate ended up to be somebody ‘fiery,’ but I guess you aren’t really that,” he hummed. “You’re nice. Warm. I see why people speak so kindly about you.”

“Well…thanks. I guess.”

You looked forward, and a thought crossed your mind. Your heart dropped slightly as you deliberated whether or not it would be smart to tell him what you heard in the halls. Realizing that you’d likely be very far away from him if it ended up to be true, you knew that you absolutely had to if you wanted to create a relationship with your soulmate.

“Rumor has it the school’s gonna be canceling scholarships to bring more money in for repairs and reconstruction.”

“What? They wouldn’t cancel yours, right? I mean, you’re the only full-scholarship on campus—they can’t just kick you, can they?” he asked, scooting a bit closer to you unconsciously.

“Rumor says they’re going to cancel everybody’s scholarships,” you whispered, suddenly realizing the weight of that statement. “I’ll probably try to move in with my aunt in Seoul, go to fancy-yet-free prep school…if they do cancel it. I don’t know how much longer I’ll be around.”

Jeno went quiet, and you desperately held back the tears that were now pooling in your eyes. “I worked so hard for this, and it’ll all go to waste. Every bit of it.”

You hated how choked up you got at the thought of it, how pathetic you felt. But, Jeno didn’t seem to mind, as he hesitantly pulled you into a hug. For a moment, you both stayed there, basking in the fulfillment that came with being with your soulmate. You wondered if this is how your parents were before they grew into the monsters they were today—a couple of teenagers in love, happy with just being with one another.

“It’s okay,” he said, rubbing your back softly. “We’ll get through it together. I’ll spend any amount of money to see you frequently, I’ll get out of class, whatever we need to build. I’d pay for your tuition, but…I don’t think you’d like that.”

“Not really, no,” you mumbled, shoving your head into the crook of his neck. “I just want to feel stable, for once in my life.”

“And you will, one day. I promise you will.”

You pulled away from him, staring at him for a moment. With a heavy sigh, you stood up, with him following close behind you. “I need to go see Suhyeon,” you said. The moment you said that, there was a sudden change in the air of the room—Jeno looked nervous, almost, as if you’d caught him in the act of something. “Go do that. I’ll see you soon.”

“See you.”

You walked towards the door, giving Jeno one last look before emerging into the hall. You made sure to stop the door from slamming behind you, cushioning it with your hands. As you did, though, Lee Donghyuck appeared back in the hall, stopping when he saw you. The door clicked closed, and you both stared at each other, waiting for someone to speak.

He was wearing his uniform, but it was half taken apart, with a couple of his buttons unbuttoned and his tie loosened around his neck. His shirt was untucked and his blazer was nowhere to be found, and you assumed he’d done it pretty recently, given the lack of wrinkling. He held a bag of M&Ms that he likely got from a vending machine somewhere in the hotel.

“Did he tell you?”

“You mean apologize? Yeah.”

Donghyuck sighed, popping a couple M&Ms in his mouth. “Okay, don’t get mad at me for being the bearer of bad news. Jaemin was convinced Jeno shouldn’t tell you, but this might be the one time Jaemin is in the wrong. I know you’ve had the worst day of all worst days, but you cannot go any farther without knowing this. ‘Kay?”

You furrowed your brows, a sudden feeling of anxiety overtaking you. “What? What are you talking about?”

Even Donghyuck looked nervous, from how he fiddled with the hem of his shirt with his open hand to the way he shifted his weight between his feet.

“Until about six months ago, Suhyeon and Jeno were a thing.”

All the air was sucked out of your lungs at once, and your brain shut down immediately.

“She found out you two were soulmates about a year ago, but didn’t back down until Jeno’s dad shut it down because of his new deal with Nayeong’s family.”

You didn’t say anything. You just stared at him, wide-eyed and shocked. “They still talked until a month-and-a-half ago, when Jeno decided to shut it down himself. Chenle knocked some sense into him, and Suhyeon was essentially taken out of our circle. She did everything in her power to not let you know about her friendship with us, and avoided the shit out of us whenever you were around. When pale in the face and all that shit.”

You stayed quiet. A feeling of betrayal began to bubble in your stomach.

“Don’t…blame her or anything, though. Even if she was being an asshole, even if what she did was the worst possible thing she could’ve done, she and Jeno had been fostering it for nearly three years. Love—if you could even call it that—makes people stupid. She wasn’t thinking, and neither was Jeno, until Chenle snapped at him.”

Were you a rebound, or a way for him to stay close to Suhyeon without his dad knowing? Were you his way of getting over what you had stolen from him? How could Suhyeon do this to you, after forcing her fixation with soulmates on you for so long?

You turned away from the corner that you assume led to yours and Suhyeon’s room, walking past Donghyuck with a newfound speed. You wracked your mind for her room number, assuming that she must’ve been in 414 given the likely year-separation of the floors.

You heard Donghyuck’s voice echo through the halls, a quiet “what the fuck is wrong with you, man?” and the loud slamming of his hotel door. You followed it up by yanking the door to the stairs open, letting it fly shut behind you as you began a rapid ascent. You ignored the pain in your ankle, the way your legs wanted to shut down, and practically burst onto the fourth floor.

You followed the same path you had before, and, sure enough, the corridors followed the same pattern. You took turn after turn, saw identical-bouquet after identical-bouquet, before stopping in front of room 414.

Three swift knocks, and a step back.

The door opened.

“[First]?” Nayeong said, furrowing her brows. Traces of crying were left on her face, from mascara-lined tear stains to red cheeks and puffy eyes. Seeing her ignited something in you, an intense sort of emotion that you hadn’t felt in so, so long.

And, as you burst out into tears, Nayeong dragged you into a hug and began sobbing with you.

viii. to hold up the earth on his shoulders for all eternity. 

The dress you were wearing was absolutely, irrevocably uncomfortable.

Several hidden wires dug into your torso, a product of the bodice of the thing, and you swore you were bleeding in an area where the fabric rubbed against you wrong. Nevertheless, you wore it proudly, hair done up and makeup perfectly complimenting your features. After all, it wasn’t every day you got to attend the wedding of your soulmate—to someone other than you, that is.

Lee Donghyuck sat next to you, dressed in a matching suit to your dress and his leg crossed over the other. A toothpick hung out of his mouth, and he anxiously chewed on it, tapping his fingers against his knee as he waited. You’d both come in support of the couple and to try and masquerade as a couple to Jeno’s father, who was apparently very displeased when he saw your name on the invite list.

“Nayeong told me she’s considering eloping with her girlfriend,” you hummed, once again adjusting your sitting position so that your dress stopped trying to kill you. “Disappearing into a small, European country. Changing her name and getting married. Apparently, her girlfriend has the tickets bought and everything.”

“And why doesn’t she?”

“She doesn’t want to force the marriage-of-convenience role onto her sister,” you sighed, shaking your head. “What a superhero she is.”

“You know, if you’d had another year at the academy, you probably would be the bride here,” Donghyuck suggested, turning towards you. You received a glare from the woman sitting a couple seats to your left, who then whispered something to her husband.

“Not so loud. We’re gonna get kicked out.”

“I’m not lying, though. Since Jaemin nearly beat me up, I’ve never been yelled at more in my life—I had to help Jeno with his comeback plan. We got it done and then we went to Suhyeon’s room and you weren’t there and she looked at Jeno like he was satan’s incarnate.”

“Suhyeon and I weren’t going to last as friends anyway. Too different. We clung to each other too much, too. Recipe for disaster.”

“Right? Anyway, if the school hadn’t been so quick to decide to cut you off, you’d be the bride. Hundred percent.”

“Where is Jaemin, anyway?” you asked, cutting the conversation topic short. According to Nayeong’s perfectly curated seating chart, he was meant to be sitting next to you right now, blabbing away about how Donghyuck ruined Jeno’s one chance at happiness by telling you about Suhyeon rather than letting Jeno do it.

“Jaemin is right here,” he said, taking the seat next to you. You and Donghyuck looked over at him, instantly picking up on the panickedness he seemed to be exuding. “And nobody can find the bride and groom. Jeno’s dad is on a warpath right now, along with Nayeong’s mother.”

“Ooh, Europe worked out,” you joked, holding up your fist. Donghyuck bumped yours against his, chuckling as well.

“Made me call him a million times, and he didn’t pick up. I suggested getting you to call Nayeong, but they looked so appalled at the suggestion that I could’ve told them I was in love with Jeno and we got married in Vegas last night.”

“That was descriptive. Did you?”

Jaemin scoffed, not getting a straight answer. Instead, he tucked his phone in his blazer pocket, focusing on you. “Nayeong’s probably on the plane by now, but we don’t know where Jeno is.”

“Okay. And?”

“He’s suggesting you should go find him, dumbshit,” Donghyuck clarified, flicking your shoulder. You put your hand on it, pretending like he’d just stabbed you in the arm, but Jaemin quickly slapped your shoulder to avoid you causing a bit of a scene.

“I don’t even know his number. Deleted it from my phone about twenty minutes after Donghyuck broke the Jesu news to me.”

Donghyuck snorted, leaning back into his chair. In passing, he said, “No way you gave them a ship name,” but Jaemin ignored his comment pretty readily.

“Good news! I have it memorized. Give me your phone.”

Jaemin didn’t wait for you to hand it to him, simply snatching it up off your lap and unlocking it (you weren’t sure where he got the password, but you wouldn’t question it). He began typing what you assumed to be his phone number without even thinking about it.

“You sure you didn’t get married in Vegas?”

“Positive,” Jaemin said, handing the phone back to you. He scooped up your purse from the ground, shoving it into your arms and proceeding to point towards a set of doors off to the side of the banquet hall. “Go out there and down the hall. Door at the end goes to the back parking lot, where Jeno parked earlier. He’s either out there or waiting for someone worth it to call him, and someone worth it would be you.”

“And what am I gonna say?”

“I don’t know,” Jaemin said, acting like you’d asked him the most insane question in the world. “Figure it out yourself. Update me. Hyuck and I will hold down the fort until we hear from you.”

You closed your eyes, allowing yourself to focus on you for a moment. A part of you wished you’d faded into oblivion after high school; being who you were, your merit reached about every end of the world. You lived in an academic spotlight, gaining the attention of universities both near and far. Jeno never came to visit you at your aunt’s house like he had shallowly promised, right before he missed his one chance to tell you the truth.

You stood up, and began your power walk to the door. Now that his fiancé was on her way to a small, European country and likely had all the assets she needed to become untraceable, Jeno would have to deal with the wrath of his father, who would feed him the same “I’m not mad, just disappointed” spiel.

You pushed the door open, hanging your bag off your shoulder and wishing your dress wasn’t so uncomfortable. Sure enough, a text came in from Nayeong—a selfie of her and her girlfriend, whom you had never met, in a plane. She was still fully prepared for marriage, only missing the wedding dress; her hair was perfectly done, the tiara was still there, and her makeup was untouched. Her girlfriend looked much more relaxed, makeupless and hair spread about.

They looked happy. So, as a result, you were happy, and could only hope she would tell you which small, European country she was living in so you could visit. Another text came in, this one from your mother, but you ignored it and continued out into the parking lot.

There was only one car that was running, and it was parked in a corner. It was black and the windows were tinted to high heaven, and you could only assume that would be where the missing groom was. You marched through the parking lot, repeating a mantra of self-support in your mind. This was one of those situations where you should’ve been anxious, but you couldn’t feel a thing; you’d grown used to not feeling anything over the years, but, in situations like these, it always felt uncomfortable.

You stopped a little bit before the car, making sure you were out of sight. You stared for a moment, blinking a couple of times and trying to muster up any sort of anxiety, but you could only manage a small kick in the bottom of your stomach. With a sigh, you approached.

You opened the car door, which was shockingly unlocked, and got into the passenger’s seat. Jeno didn’t turn to look at you, just drumming his fingers on the steering wheel and staring forward. “Can you take me to my apartment? If the wedding isn’t happening, I don’t want to sit in this dress any longer.”

He didn’t waste a moment to put the car in reverse, backing out of the spot with ease. He put a hand on the back of your seat, turning his whole body to look out of the back window even though he had one of those backup cameras. You wondered if he was trying to impress you, but found it unlikely given how unhappy he seemed.

When he managed to back out completely and was forced to turn his focus to the road, you took the chance to give him a once-over. You hadn’t seen Jeno since a banquet two years ago, where you’d been invited after one of your professors insisted you had to share your paper. You’d mingled with people in much higher places than you, smiling and discussing things you didn't care about, barely speaking about your academic ventures. Jeno had been there, too, hanging off Nayeong’s arm like he’d once done to you. They spent the whole night gossiping, sitting together and whispering about things you couldn’t imagine. Back then, when he was 20 years old, his hair had still been blonde and he had still carried that gold boy demeanor he loved so much. Now, his hair was pitch black, and he gave off the energy of someone who was completely and utterly in control of his life.

Judging by the way he blatantly ignored the people who’d begun running after his car, you assumed the energy mirrored the truth. He turned out onto the street, speeding away from the banquet hall that had a million cars around it. “Lots of presents oughta be returned tonight, huh,” you mused, adjusting your sit once again. “I bet it’s annoying and relieving all at once.”

“My dad’s gonna blame this all on me,” he sighed, continuing to drum his fingers on the steering wheel. “Where do you live?”

“Trimage Towers. Anyway, he can’t blame it all on you if Nayeong’s a lesbian. I mean, it’s not like you had any jurisdiction over that.”

Jeno hesitated for a moment, slowing down for a red light. Thanks to the location of the fancy banquet hall, the towers were already in sight, and you could practically feel the relief of taking this awful dress off.

“You really can’t feel anything, huh.”

“I can feel things, just not a lot. I’d be able to feel things if you would’ve gotten over me,” you hummed, looking out the passenger window. “I’m serious, Jeno. Find a new girl. Pick her over me. We will both be happier that way.”

“So you’re rejecting me over a relationship that started when I was in middle school?” he asked, and, at that moment, you understood it was a bit ridiculous. You were sure you’d see it in a more intuitive way had you retained your emotions, but such was the price of rejecting one’s other half.

“I don’t know. I haven’t felt anything since then. I’m content with it now, so I don’t really feel like I can love anyone. Make a decision based on love. Who knows,” you replied, feeling your phone buzz. You picked it up—another text from your mom. This time, though, she called you a couple of names for ignoring her texts and not sending her any money.

Jeno suddenly took a sharp turn, pulling into an empty parking lot next to an office building, which you assumed to be empty because it was Saturday. He pulled around to the back, parking in a spot next to a few trees. It was well hidden, likely a tactic for avoiding anyone chasing him.

“What can I do to fix it?” he asked, a hint of desperation in his voice. “I’m serious. I’ll do anything. Anything at all.”

The slightest bit of sympathy graced your heart, but not enough to change anything. You sighed, looking up at the ceiling of the car. “Not sure.”

“What, should I confess my love to you?” he asked, which caught your attention. You looked over, biting the edge of your lip. “I barely know you, [First], yet I am deeply in love with you. Every time I hear something about you from Nayeong, or from Donghyuck, or from Jaemin, I feel the most intense regret that I decided to ignore Donghyuck’s advice and trust Jaemin more. All I could tell you about yourself are things everyone else knows and whatever my friends have told me, yet I’d still pick you over anybody else.”

Your heart sped up, but you still felt numb to the world. Maybe Dr. Choi had been right—maybe it wasn’t worth it to lose all feeling when you were 17. Maybe, if things had gone better, you would have been the bride today.

“Okay.”

“Is there any way? Any way at all that we could try? I know I’ve asked before, and I was disingenuous then, but I’m not a kid anymore. Neither are you. Things could be different.”

“Could they?” you finally bit into the conversation, letting out a disbelieving laugh. “I just—I can’t comprehend it. I’m a work machine. I walk into the office and stay for hours, reviewing my coworker’s pieces and writing my own based on what I’m given. I’m told that one day, I’ll be one of the greats of journalism thanks to my ability to work until I give out. Will that go away if I let this happen? Will I lose opportunity if I let myself love? I’m not really sure.”

“What makes you think that?” Jeno shot back. “What makes you think a little emotion would destroy your career?”

“Most, if not all of my superiors are soulmate-less or have purposefully gone out of their way to reject their soulmates. It’s standard.”

“You can break the standard, then.”

A bit of anger began to bubble in your stomach. “Could I? I already have it worse by having absolutely no nepotism to back me up, and I’ve got a world of expectation on me based on how I graduated at the top of everything, in every year of schooling I’ve ever had. I have a bad family to keep under wraps, and I have to pay them off to keep them quiet. I can’t afford to be pushing any stereotypes when I’ve got a million other things to work through.”

“I can be your credible, important connection, then. How easy is that?”

“I’d rather die than be a nepotism baby.”

“Then what are you looking for?” “Nothing, Jeno! I’m looking for nothing!” you finally exclaimed, the anger bubbling over the top. “I’m looking to leave this behind us and separate ourselves from each other! I’d rather die than keep living a life that orbits around you! I just—I just want to be myself.”

“Then I’ll orbit around you. I’ll stay out of it and I’ll treat your every beck and call—”

“Shut up, Jeno.”

“I’ll be the one who’s connected to you. I won’t be Lee Jeno, son of that one guy who got to live easy because of his grandfather’s work—”

“Jeno, please.”

“And I’ll dedicate my everything to you, master journalist, the most goddamn successful person in the world, all thanks to herself—”

You’re unsure what came over you at that moment. In your fit of anger, wanting Jeno to just shut up, you grabbed the sides of his face, and you kissed him. There was a moment where you couldn’t believe yourself, where you truly thought you’d open your eyes and be back in the banquet hall, discussing where Jaemin was with Donghyuck. In that moment, Jeno would walk out, make his way to the altar, and Nayeong would follow.

They would look miserable. You would know they were miserable. You would know you could’ve prevented their misery. You’d feel nothing. You’d go home, Donghyuck driving you, and you’d go to bed, ready to go into work the next day.

One opening of your eyes revealed to you that you were, in fact, kissing Lee Jeno. He didn’t seem to mind the suddenness of it—obviously—reaching over the center console to lace his fingers into your perfectly wavy hair. He smiled into the kiss, as if he was the most satisfied man in the world, as if he was the only man in the world.

You closed them again, and felt fireworks burst within you. Although they hadn’t returned like you thought they would, you felt a mixture of very mellow emotions pooling in your stomach, and you realized maybe Jeno, Jaemin, and Donghyuck had a plot.

You pulled away from him, dropping your hands from his face. He did not try to separate himself from you, though, waiting for you to recite the words he’d be wanting you to recite. “An academic article by psychologist Kim Sowol. The best way to incite emotion in someone who’s rejected their soulmate is to anger them.”

He dropped his hands now, too, laying them on top of yours. “Nayeong sent it to me.”

You stayed quiet, narrowing your eyes at him. “I hate you. Never speak to me again.”

Jeno put his hands back on the wheel, reversing the car once more and taking you back out onto the road. “Yeah, okay. Next stop, your apartment. Text Jaemin that it worked for me, would you?”

You scoffed. “No. Shut up.”

“Your wish is my command, my dear.”

thank you for reading!

tags:

@dziewoja07 @pewpewpwe00 @mings-cafe @yutensoul @iioyous @shepeelsoranges @loeycity @misakiise @000rpheus @eunbi4eva @jenonoon @travelleratheart101 @hesbambi @minchoco @swagzombiefart @eunbi4eva @wonluvrbot

[heartingw]

If you're too shy (let me know) - Ellie Williams

Warning: adult content even if not explicit; pining!ellie and pining!reader; ellie being lowkey a tease; kind of invasion of privacy; praising; making out; dina being a good friend; jesse is reader's brother, but reader's physical characteristics is not implied (safe space for all women); ellie being so damn in love with reader; heavy petting; joel is not dead here; a little bit perverted, but mostly romantic; maybe typos and bad writing since i'm not an english speaker; both pov's, but you'll know; also me being fucking cheesy, so if you don't like it, don't read the final 'letter'. I'm a romantic, sorry.

Words: almost 3k.

A/N: I hope it's not bad and too rushed. If you see anything weird in the writing, please let me know and I'll fix it immediately. I don't have a beta reader, so…

♥ To be Ellie's patrol partner you had to know that she often went on patrol looking extremely tired from spending hours of the night strumming her guitar, drawing, or writing songs.

Jesse and Dina were already used to trying to hold some kind of conversation with her - or gossip, Ellie loved a good gossip - to keep her awake and alert all the way back to Jackson in those days. But it was a little hard to do that all the time, since most of the time they didn't have much knowledge about her personal hobbies. And neither of them were particularly good at drawing or creative enough to write song lyrics.

That's why Ellie ended up, somehow, getting close to you.

Since you're Jesse's sister, she's known you pretty much since when she arrived in Jackson years ago. A shy girl who only answered when you were spoken to or when Jesse forced it out of you. Ellie never minded. In fact, she hadn't even paid much attention to you at first. Living in Jackson, having a peaceful life after the hell she and Joel had gone through had left her a little bewildered for the first few months.

Honestly, she only started talking to people because Dina decided that they would become best friends whether she wanted to or not and started talking to the green eyed girl at any opportunity. And Jesse, as a good boyfriend, went along.

Ellie was 16 when you heard her playing guitar at dawn on the porch of her house.

Though still a little shy, you apologized and immediately recognized the song Ellie was playing, one Joel had just taught her. Smiling and singing the rest of the lyrics that you had interrupted. And even a little embarrassed to have been seen playing outside, Ellie couldn't help but be intrigued by you for the first time in two years.

Over the time, the friendship grew as well as an internal conflict within Ellie.

She found that you liked several different types of music and sometimes hummed the lyrics to her. That your brother had found a music player that still worked and that you were able to charge it and since then you always listened to music before bed. That you, just like her, liked to write, but you never showed anything you wrote. Ellie didn't mind that much, tho. After all, she never showed anyone her private notes either.

She had noticed that you always had a soft smile when she played any song for you. That you had the habit of biting your lower lip and that you lifted your eyebrows while talking to people, giving them full attention.

She noticed that you rejected all men who approached you with the intention of flirting. And that you never looked at any of them with any kind of desire. Ellie also noticed how much you liked her hands and that your eyes always went to her mouth when she wet her lips with her tongue.

When Ellie realized how much she paid attention to you, she understood how fucked she was.

Jesse's sister. The girl she knew who had grown into a fucking beautiful woman. Who had also become a close friend. Who liked music, liked to write (God knows what), and that seemed genuinely curious when Ellie spoke some random curiosity about space.

Suddenly you had become the reason Ellie wrote romantic lyrics and poems during the night.

On your 22nd birthday Ellie found out she wasn't exactly discreet about her feelings for you. Her eyes widened when Dina sat next to her in your small party and asked if it was that year she would finally take her chance and confess to you.

Ellie didn't even know if you were into women, she wasn't going to spoil your friendship like that.

After most of the people had left the party, Ellie approached you. You looked fucking pretty in a summer dress and Ellie was feeling like crap for having to force herself not to look at your legs and breasts.

"Hey, I have something for you."

You interrupted what you were saying to Jesse and turned fully to her, a cheerful smile on your face. "Oh, so that's why you brought your backpack. I was wondering why you came here with it."

"Did you really think I wasn't going to give you anything for your birthday?" Ellie asked you with a side smile and teasing voice. "So much faith on me, I see."

She pulled a notebook out of her backpack. The cover was adorned with constellations and symbols of zodiac signs - Ellie had told you how people used to relate the day they were born to personalities and you had become obsessed with it.

Your eyes widened, delighted with the gift and your hands slowly moved towards the notebook, picking up gently while whispering her name like you couldn't believe what you were seeing. In the blink of an eye you already had your arms around her neck, hugging her tight and putting your face on her neck.

"Fuck, Ellie, thank you so, so much! I've wanted a new one for so long and Jesse never brought me one from patrols." Your voice was charged with emotion as you thanked her in her ear. Ellie knew that writing was like therapy for you – you'd already mentioned this several times –, she also remembered when you complained to her you had already filled out all the pages of your notebook and Jesse never brought a new one, but always brought something to Dina.

"Maybe I didn't give you one so you wouldn't write those things anymore, can you imagine if our parents read that?" Ellie's eyes turned to Jesse, who was smiling and teasing his sister with no real malice involved. "I didn't even know you knew those things. So intense that I blushed."

Quickly you turned to slap your brother's arm, your ears and cheeks red, and mouth slightly open with shock. "You weren't even supposed to have touched that notebook, let alone read it!" Your voice sounded high-pitched.

"My little sister, now a woman. Writing p- ow!" Dina pulled on Jesse's ear, causing a groan of pain from the man who then burst out laughing and gave you a bear hug. "Chill out, I'm just joking."

Ellie watched as Jesse laughed and you tried to get out of his embrace still trying to slap his arm weakly. Dina also laughed as she told her boyfriend to leave his sister alone.

If there was one thing Ellie was very proud of about herself, it was that she always minded her own business and respected others' privacy. But what her friend said was like a vortex in her head. Jesse asking what you would do if your parents read what you wrote. You, all red and embarrassed.

What the fuck do you write in your notebooks? ♥

It was one of those days that Ellie went on patrol extremely sleepy.

It wasn't something she was proud of, but this time it wasn't her fault. It was yours. What do you usually write? She thought maybe it was something like horror, but Ellie knew you were fearful and didn't like to be scared. And horror wouldn't leave that fucking beautiful red color on your cheeks.

Could it be something naughty?

God, Ellie fucking knew you had a perverted side that you let slip once or twice, but you're not as open about it as her or Dina. Did you write dirty stuff in your notebook? What would you write about? About characters you created? About people you knew? About yourself? Ellie scolded herself at the thought you could write about her.

If you were to write about her, what would you write?

"I hope there won't be any infected today or we will die in less than 2 minutes," Dina said with a teasing voice. "What got you so distracted today?"

Letting out a sigh, Ellie decided to trust Dina. It's not like her friend is going to tell Jesse what she was going to say anyway. If there's one thing Dina believed in the 'chicks before dicks' code. Honestly, Ellie needed to unravel before she went crazy.

"It's just," she cleared her throat. "I can't fucking stop thinking about what Jesse said at the party. About the notebook."

"Oh, that," the brunette let out a low chuckle as she shook her head. "Well, I might know a thing or two, but I won't tell you."

"Are you fucking kidding me? Thought I was your best friend." Ellie's voice sounded playful. "C'mon, throw me a bone."

Dina felt bad she was having so much fun at Ellie's expense, but she couldn't help but find it funny how the auburn-haired girl wanted to know anything that was related to you. As she got older, Ellie had become a more closed off person and disinterested in other people outside her personal circle. Seeing her grow closer to you was impressive to say, at least. Dina liked you much better than Cat.

"Look, Jesse didn't give many details, but that day he seemed a little dumbfounded by what he read," Dina spoke as she led her horse to go slower. They were arriving at the patrol building. "He commented something about how he didn't imagine you'd write those things, but that he should have expected it by now, since you're an adult."

When they arrived at the building, Ellie and Dina got off the horses and grabbed their backpacks. As they walked up the stairs, Dina wondered if she was doing the right thing by telling her friend what she knew, but she was tired of seeing the two of you obviously crushing on each other without doing anything about it.

"Listen up, I didn't tell you anything. You don't know anything! But Jesse said you wrote about girls. Intimate letters about girls. Now can you stop making excuses for yourself and try to get your fucking dream girl?"

Ellie was not religious, but she thanked God at that moment for the opportunity. You liking girls was a victory. Now she needed to convince you that the two of you would be fucking awesome together.

♥

If Ellie thanked God earlier, now she was cursing him. If he really existed, he was doing some kind of cruel test on her.

A simple and very organized room. It was easy to see what you liked when she walked in. Your books, your posters, your desk with some pencils and pens lying around. The slightly open drawer that Ellie could see the notebook she had given you as a gift inside.

She couldn't hear you in the bathroom, since it was downstairs. She didn't even know if you would take a long time in the shower. But her eyes were glued to the drawer and her fingers were itching to pick up the notebook and read at least one page of what you wrote.

"Fuck," she whispered as she got closer to the drawer. "I'm such a fucking bad person."

And it was at that moment that she, without making a noise, opened the drawer.

♥

Even with the world pretty much ending, you loved the fact that Jackson allowed people to have a little bit of peace. This allowed you to dress more comfortably - you were not one of the people responsible for patrols - so wearing dresses, for example, wasn't a problem for you. And you liked it.

Which led you to wear a dress today. Today, the day Ellie had arranged to watch a movie with you. In her house.

With limited resources, you had to make do with the basics of personal hygiene. Soap and a simple shampoo did their best to keep you clean and smelling good. And you had to admit you used it a lot to always make a good impression on Ellie.

The girl with a freckled face and green eyes you've been in love with since you were 14 years old.

But today Ellie was acting differently. Ever since you came out of the bathroom, already dressed, she was acting weird. Not a bad weird, but weird all the same.

You could tell Ellie was touching you more than usual. Her hand guiding you by soft touches in you back while taking you to her house, sending shivers down your neck. Her whispering things in your ear as if she was telling you a secret and 'unintentionally' touching her lips to your ear while sitting on her couch during the movie. Her voice sounding hoarser than usual. Jesus Christ, you didn't even know someone's voice could sound so hot.

Ever since you met Ellie, she had never spoken or acted like this to you. Maybe it was because you were Jesse's sister or she wasn't attracted to you. The only thing you had was your imagination. And you imagined a lot of things with Ellie Williams.

Your notebooks were proof of that.

What you weren't expecting was a scene of a couple kissing deeply in the movie. It was a suspense movie you didn't even remember the title. The chances of those characters dying were high, but at that moment, the man was pulling the woman by her hair while devouring her mouth. Fuck, you could see their tongue inside each other's mouths.

With your body rigid with embarrassment and your throat dry, you could feel your face heat up as you took a deep breath. Then you felt Ellie's eyes on you. Her hand slowly reached yours while she got closer, her shoulders touching your when she slightly leaned forward staring into your eyes.

"Hey," her voice low, she was so close you could feel her breath hitting your cheeks. You didn't look in her direction. "You alright?"

The guy took off the woman's blouse while kissing her neck. The woman let out a moan as she tried to rip off his shirt. Your eyes turned to Ellie's and you gave her a faint smile. "Yeah, I'm good."

Emerald eyes stared at your mouth. Her face tilted slightly as she moved closer and closer. The hand that had previously touched yours was now holding your chin lightly not allowing you to move your face away from her. Not that you really wanted to. "Bet you are."

Her lips were like a phantom touch, making you crave for her. Her nose lightly caressing yours. Ellie could get you mesmerized easily. The moans became background noise. "Ellie..."

"Let me kiss you," she sounded almost desperate. You wondered if she wanted you as much as you wanted her. "I promise it'll be good. It's going to be so fucking good."

Kissing ellie was hot as lava.

♥

Kissing girls has always been good. They were soft everywhere, and it felt so good to feel every bit of them during the kiss. Their arms around her neck, the soft waist that Ellie loved to squeeze against her. Their weight on her lap and their breasts pressed against hers. The moans they let out against her mouth. Kissing women made perfect sense to Ellie.

But kissing you was a fucking whole new experience.

Maybe it was the feelings involved. Ellie remembers that Dina had mentioned how special it was to be with someone you really loved. Now she gets it. She understands the way you kiss her back so enthusiastically, as if you've been waiting for her all your life. She understands because she's been writing songs about what it would be like to feel your mouth against her.

Her hands ran down your back and arms until they stopped at your waist, pushing you against the couch. Your body didn't reject hers, you obeyed Ellie's silent commands without a second thought. Your hands went to her neck, pulling her against you. Your legs wrapped around her waist, making your pretty dress slip up to your hips.

Every piece of clothing that came out, Ellie was more sure that you were everything she ever wanted. Your fucking delicious moans, your warm skin against hers, your mouth demanding hers, your hands running possessively down her body, you whining her name. The way you fucking begged her.

The way you fucking tasted against her mouth.

You, with a thin blanket of sweat on your skin guiding her to the ground, climbing on top of her, kissing her body in every way. Using your tongue to send shivers down every part of Ellie's body. Calling her beautiful, while kissing her stomach and lightly squeezing her breasts.

"I've always dreamed of this." Your voice came out fluttered as you made your way between her legs.

Ellie fucking loved space. And she felt you show her the whole fucking universe with your tongue.

♥

"If your freckles spread over the rest of your body like on your face, I would kiss and caress each of her with my tongue. Did you know that? All I can think about at night is your husky voice saying my name as I imagine you lying next to me in bed. Your fingers dancing through my body and your mouth glued to mine as if you can't ever let me go. And I wouldn't. Not where you can't reach me. I wonder if I would ever have the courage to hand you these letters. If I'll be able to taste you one day as I always write on these pages. Holding you in my arms while I drink everything you can offer me between your legs. I wouldn't let you go until all you could think about was me.

I don't know if I'd be enough for you, Ellie.

But I would give everything for you to love me as I love you. To kiss me like you kiss me whenever I think of you while I make myself come in my own hands."

[sunakittymeow]

Summery: You are sick and a your childhood bestfriend taking care of you.

Genre: Fluff?

Warning: none, typos. (Not proofread)

Requested: No.

A/n: I planned to make a oikawa fic but changed to him because I love him.

You and tsukishima has been friends since childhood along with Yamaguchi. you both would bicker with eachother over the smallest thing and Yamaguchi have to butt in to solve the matter. 

But despite that you both cared for eachother, even though you both would say awful things yet you both won't leave eachother's side if needed. But ofcourse you won't tell eachother that. 

but today is different, you caught a flu and your parents were gone for business purposes leaving you alone. Your migraine has gotten worse than it was before. 

cough after cough left from your mouth. you were tired of this flu. Can't breath properly. You sneezed for the fifth time. 

But you for startled by a sudden knock on your door. 

"Come in" 

You spoke in a low voice, you had a sore throat. 

"You shouldn't let anybody enter into your room without asking who are they"

a the door flew out and the owner of the voice traveled himself. 

"It's fine, it's you."

"But there would be some time I won't be the one standing, so be careful" 

"Awww someone's caring" 

he glared at you making you laugh. 

"What brings you here kei?" 

"Your mom informed me that you caught flu, came to check on you"

You smiled at him cheekily. 

"Is that so? Wow thanks kei"

You giggled once again but soon coughed.

"God, you look awful" 

"What did you just said?" 

"You got a hearing probelm??" 

You shot a glare at him making him chuckle.

"aww is the little kid getting mad? Sorry didn't mean to"

there was it again. His snarky comments. 

you both bickered for some time and then he decided to ask about your medicine. 

"Mhm, I'm taking them"

lie. 

He clearly knew that how much you despise medicines, 'it's bitter and hard to swallow' that's what you say everytime you try to take medicine. 

"Yeah sure"

he opens the drawer and took out the medicine box, it looked like nobody touched it yet. 

He took out the medicine and handed you. 

"C'mon hurry up, i don't have all day"

He groaned. 

"How did you even-"

"Just take it"

He handed you a glass of water and forced you to take the medicine. 

"Kei i hate it"

You throwed some tantrums at him which didn't worked since he looked unfazed by it. 

Due to not eating anything your stomach grambles as loudly as possible making you whine. 

The blonde male sighed knowing you haven't touched any food. So he decide to cook something edible. He isn't a good cook at all but he knows the basic to make a porridge. 

"Here"

He placed the food on your bed carefully not to drop it. 

You had a disgusting expression on your face. Knowing you won't touch the food he hold the spoon to your mouth almost shoving it which made the spoon hit your lips and you let out a soft groan and he took the chance putting the porridge inside your mouth. 

"Kei, what the hell"

he rolled his eyes and didn't said anything while feeding you the porridge. 

After finishing the food (you almost threw up) he decided to put you to sleep. 

"Wait you still have one medicine left"

He quickly took out the last medicine and handed you, you lazily took it. 

Finally tiredness was getting you, so you laid down more and pulled the sheets closer to your body making you curl up into a ball. 

He noticed your tiring state and thought you have fallen asleep. 

"Sleep tight"

He whispered quality, not wanting to wake you up. And places a soft kiss on your hand before leaving.

(But little did he knew that you never slept that time. This gesture of his was enough to make your stomach churned up in happiness) 

[chaotic-trash-cryptid]

Can't fall back asleep, so everyone else gets to deal with this nonsense I came up with even though I'm not a writer

Imagine an 'x reader' where the reader is this idol that's like super energetic and talkative and all that while in their idol persona, for lack of better wording, only to also end up being shy, quiet, much more calm during their everyday life (possibly even having an interest in things that entirely contrasts that bubbly, cutesy idol look). The character is a huge fan, always attending their concerts, meet and greets, and such, and has even met them backstage a couple times. However, they end up accidentally meeting either in an online space, like a game or an online community for one of the idol's unexpected interests, or in real life, but the idol looks and sounds so different that it doesn't click when the character hears their voice

One day, the character ends up getting a backstage pass to be able to meet their favorite idol, only to accidentally come across the reader taking a small break from the idol persona, the reader having expected anyone with a backstage pass to check out the merch table that was available to the public before going backstage

The last paragraph was just one of many potential endings. It can play out however the writer sees fit, if anyone even actually thinks about using this idea. If a fanfic actually does get made out of this, I'd like to be tagged in the post about it (I don't care what the age rating ends up being, I'm a legal adult)

In the tags are just some of my current hyperfixations, feel free to ignore those. I'm not sure how to tag this, so sorry about that. Also, ignore any typos. I'm still tired