#2 in fanfiction🏅
𝗔 𝗠𝗔𝗙𝗜𝗔 𝗔𝗥𝗥𝗔𝗡𝗚𝗘𝗗 𝗠𝗔𝗥𝗥𝗜𝗔𝗚𝗘 𝗥𝗢𝗠𝗔𝗡𝗖𝗘
'𝘼𝙨 𝙇𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙨 𝙎𝙝𝙚'𝙨 𝙎𝙖𝙛𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙘𝙞𝙩𝙮 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙗𝙪𝙧𝙣'
Kim Y/n was meant to be a leverage, an arranged bride offered to the Ko...
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I start on my new painting, this time of Jungkook at his desk in Nova.
He had been busy scribbling notes when I entered the room that day, his brow furrowed in deep concentration.
The memory feels distant now, hazy at the edges, as I struggle to capture him on canvas.
Without a refresher—without him—I find myself grasping at fleeting details.
It's been weeks since I last saw him, and all I have in his absence are the countless lilies Yeonjun delivers almost daily.
Eunwoo and Mingyu sit in the library with me when Yoongi and Yeonjun enter, Kai trailing behind them.
I glance up as they set up at the table, a large tin can in Kai's hands. He nods at me.
"This is from Exile" he says, and my heart stops at the name of Taehyung's casino.
"What are you doing with that?" I ask, rising from my seat.
Yeonjun smirks, taking the tin from Kai as they settle in. "We're going to teach you a little poker."
A slow smile tugs at my lips. Yeonjun gestures to an empty seat beside him, and I sit.
If I had known we would be playing, I might have worn something more comfortable, though I doubt it will make a difference.
That, and the fact that they assume I don't already know how to play.
I let them get comfortable, their expressions already painted with self-assured superiority.
I keep my own poker face intact, barely resisting the urge to roll my eyes when Mingyu tries to explain the basics.
"Alright, guys, let's not overwhelm her." He glances at me through thick lashes, concern visible in his hazel eyes.
"Poker is a game of chance and strategy, Y/n. The goal is to have the best set of cards by the end." I nod, feigning a demure look of gratitude, as if his explanation is new to me.
They don't know that poker had once been my favorite pastime with Taehyung, who had taught me himself.
The game begins in earnest, their joviality quickly dissolving into intense concentration as they try to decipher each other's strategies.
I play my part well—gasping at losses, giggling at wins—letting them believe I am exactly the naïve little girl they expect me to be.
The first round comes and goes; I lose by a hair's breadth to Yeonjun. My defeat seems to bolster their confidence.
As we shuffle for the next round, my fingers move deftly with years of experience hidden behind faux hesitation.
