Cant Wait For More!!!!! - Tumblr Posts

1 — The Sword

It was like waking up from a dream in a warm bed, except Amory wasn't in bed but rather in a freezing, obnoxiously air-conditioned classroom with their face down on their desk. They groaned, finding that their left eye was blurry from being pressed against the arm they used as a pillow, and a stripe of spittle almost marring their penmanship on the answer sheet. Almost.

The student lifted their head to wipe it. Left eye still blurry. A hollow clatter told them they'd pushed their pen off the desk by accident, which they moved to retrieve — only to turn the entire chair upside down, sending questionnaire and answer sheet gracefully airborne, and themself prone.

A few laughs from their immediate east.

They heaved themself up, righted the chair, and picked up the fallen papers and pen. The new number written in chalk on the board in front told them the class had five minutes left to finish the exam. Most of the class, anyway, for they had finished way ahead of their peers about thirty minutes ago. They spent this lull period brushing dust off their uniform, muttering unhappily about the weekly cleaners not taking their obligations seriously and their left eye which didn't seem to be in the mood to refocus now. While massaging their affected eye, they gave their answer sheet one last look, then the classroom a sweeping one.

White walls. High ceiling. Plain beige tiling. One chalkboard, one whiteboard, both with generous scuff marks. Reddish teacher's table — they momentarily wondered if it was mahogany... (no, why would they assume that? That's becoming a staple of the elite nowadays, come on, everyone is poor...) The green plastic chairs, 7 columns by 5 rows, all occupied. Tasteless posters discouraging drug use and bullying along the walls, a line-up of past batch trophies in a glass case next to the boards, a long worktop to the left side hit by sparse sunlight. In short, unremarkable.

Awfully like themself.

And then there were the occupants of those chairs, who qualified for decent labels beyond unremarkable. How they envied them. There was once a time when they'd scream into their pillow about how unfair it was, being unremarkable in a sea of memorable, and the hate from that time stayed with them, whittled down to a small thought that swelled to a concerning intensity whenever they looked at each of their classmates. Lucky, lucky, lucky.

Three up front, the informal Golden Girls of the class. Of course the three had names, but they weren't in the mood to recall. The three were a perfect trio, a clique, and the ones most likely to fail according to multiple studies conducted in the (dis)honor of overachievers. And then there was a duo of troublemakers, two boys, who had once shoved them dangerously close to the balcony rail. To their right, the shrinking violet was nervously capping and uncapping his pen while staring at his papers. To their left, the class president drummed her fingers on her desk to the rhythm of time running out.

When the teacher announced the end of hell, aka the exam, it was like everyone around them manually released their lungs for freer breathing. Papers were passed forward, those in front in turn passed the piles to the teacher, and the atmosphere lightened further when the bell sounded. Everyone was permitted to take their schoolbags from the front and leave the room, except the weekly cleaners. Luckily today was a Friday; it was only on Wednesdays that Amory and the rest of the E's according to surname took up that task.

They picked up their drawstring bag and tailed a boy on the way out. Clumps of their classmates sharing their frustrations with friends from neighboring sections blocked part of the hall, so they had to weave between groups to make it through to the stairwell. Tile turned to gravel under their shoes, crunching with every other step. They passed a vendor selling skewered meats to a couple junior students. Chatter, laughter, clamors rang from almost every direction, which faded into unimportance the more distance Amory put between themself and the rest of civilization. The sun beat mercilessly above, fighting with the cold wind that persisted through the hours until around one o'clock. They tried to adjust to the change in brightness by squinting.

Finally free of the stuffy classroom, they pulled out their phone. No new notifications. Just some emails notifying them of their outputs turned in, newsletter offers, the usual junk. The lack of messages from either family or the school prompted them to check their Facebook account, which was full of notifications from various relatives they never met in person wishing them good luck for the upcoming test right on their feeds. How embarrassing.

As always, their thoughts began to stray back to school. They had mixed feelings about it; on one hand, it was nice studying somewhere that didn't require squeezing in with strangers on some rickety vehicle to get to, but on the other, it made the whole academic journey feel like a jail sentence. Their grades were average, but in comparison to the utterly disappointing figures their classmates received on report cards? They were already on their way to another High Honors picture, all thanks to being able to see what others don't — favoritism, merit-based scoring, lots of Jollibee takeout.

An unwelcome grip on Amory's shoulder practically made them jump. They whirled around, arm drawn back for a hard punch —

"Oh. Vera."

"It's-a me!" Her voice was squeaky and high, a tone that was usually reserved for people she liked. They were one of the unfortunate ones that stumbled into her good graces. "That test was sooooo hard. What was your answer for 49?"

"C."

"Oh! Mine was A, I dunno if that was correct..." Vera mumbled, absentmindedly touching her chin. She smiled sheepishly at Amory as they stared blankly at her, not knowing whether to resume the punch or call it off for now. "Anyway, tomorrow's when my dad goes on that trip to Hanoi, remember?"

"Uh-huh." They did not remember at all.

"So I thought I'd gather the girls — ooh, and you, since you're not like the rest of the boys anyway — for lunch! All on me, you know me. C'mon. At Anang's, you won't regret it."

Before Amory could lecture her on the gender binary, she tugged them away with surprising strength, leading them to the main entrance of the school building. They frowned upon seeing her entourage twittering, hunched over something entertaining on one of their phones. When they sensed their Queen coming their way, the girls waved and squealed.

"Amory! Amory! It's time you joined us again! Do you want a grande wintermelon, on us? Anang's just released their Truffle Butter line! What about their shaved ice? How much money do you still have?" The questions bombed Amory rapidly as Vera's horde surrounded them, like deer around their young. They sighed and resigned themself to their fate, though they wouldn't mind good food free of charge.

"I'll just have a hazelnut latte," they said whilst the horde surged towards the local restaurant, Anang's, with their wallets ready to unload.

Lunch.

Anang's was a mere stroll away from the school, and was smelled first before being seen. Everyday a new aroma wafted from the place, whether sautéed garlic and onions, melting sugar, or even steamed heirloom rice that was starting to become more and more of a privilege than a right by heritage these days. A whiff of any of these was enough to make Amory's mouth water, especially since they never got to leave their house unless it was to ask favors from the neighbors or water the plants at the back. They watched as Vera was enumerating the specs of her order to who they speculated was a newly-hired waiter, and her friends gossiping about who was the cutest amongst the staff. Amory rolled their eyes when they heard one of them carelessly gushing over one of the waitresses (it won't take a genius to know that she heard it!) then ducking to hide her pink face.

As they mentioned earlier, a hazelnut latte was enough. But Vera, being the spender, added an order of warm pan de rosa for them. "To thank you for helping me review last time! You're too nice, you should treat yourself more often. Here," she chirped, pushing the saucer towards them.

"Huh. Salamat."

They dug into the latte first. Its strong nutty flavor was what made it their regular. While drinking, they listened to Vera ramble on about topics that she never seemed to run out of every single day.

"Okay, so I was talking to Elise the other day… she was gonna ask out her friend this year, and the way I hear it she likes her a lot, and…"

Amory tuned her out after a while. Vera was an open book around her friends and them, so her stories always ended up sounding like telenovelas rather than real events. She talked about her classes, her grades, her friends, everything under the sun and in her ears, whatever they may catch. They learned during the first few days of their acquaintance with Vera that the best way to deal with her was to simply nod or shake their head, and to keep an ever growing list of Things Vera Talks About stored neatly in their mind.

"Amory?"

"Hm?"

"What are you thinking about?"

The question caught them off guard. They choked on a mouthful of their drink before clearing their throat. "Nothing in particular."

"Nothing, like Jaso—"

"Huy!" They elbowed her, scowling. Vera snickered into her fist. "You're the worst. You're lucky I'm very tolerant; otherwise you'd be eating sand right now."

"No, it's because we're friends."

"Acquaintances," they corrected.

After the eighth episode of the podcast Things Vera Talks About, Amory decided it was time for them to go. They finished the latte and bread, thanked Vera and Company for the trouble, then went on their merry way.

It was thirteen minutes past one o'clock PM. They ambled down the narrow street preceding the school, which was lined with printing shops, cafes, shoe repair stores and other businesses, before ascending the stairs to the overpass. The overpass was connected to a station they were a regular at, where all they had to do was show their face to the ticket booth, get one of those serrated slips of paper and board the train going south. It only took a few minutes before the train arrived.

They boarded without incident, as noon and its following hours were quite free. They made themself comfortable on one of the seats along the wall and avoided eye contact with everyone except the conductor. He greeted them once they entered the compartment, then left them alone to read through their notes and type on their laptop, not bothering to look outside once the train started moving. It was all cramped land and aerial traffic anyway.

Half an hour later, the train stopped at its destination. Amory got off and walked the last kilometer home. Their residence was somewhere in a dull white five-storey compound nestled between a sari-sari store and a hair salon. They looked around for any off signs as they shoved the key into the gate, entered, then locked behind themself. The kids from 204 were playing in the courtyard, Aling Yvette from 102 watering her serpentina pots, and the feisty shih tzu Baby sniffing around along the front of 105. Amory ignored them all and hiked up four flights of stairs for 306.

When they keyed open the door, they found their brother Danilo splayed on the sofa, phone cradled delicately in his hands.

"Hey, loser."

Danilo's gaze flickered upwards to meet Amory's, and he gave them a lazy thumbs up as acknowledgement. They returned it with a brow twitch and headed upstairs. Their parents were taking their siesta in the other room, which they avoided by a meter on the way to their abode within the abode: their room.

Their room — an enclosure of white paint obscured with posters and flags and a big corkboard cluttered with pinned ripped pages and once-trendy Polaroids. A bed meant for one and only one person (a deterrent to handsy visitors) was in one corner, and in the opposite a desk facing one of two of the room's windows that let them see the courtyard from three floors high. The other window, covered with thin blinds, was for spying on 305 when they felt like it.

They flopped face down onto the bed, letting out a loud sigh of relief. There was no need to worry about anything... for now.

Love That Bites Pt. 8

AAAA ITS FINALLY DONE

Hello!! Welcome to part 8 of my Dracula x Belmont reader fic! Sorry it took so long to come out, but I hope you all enjoy it regardless! 🥰

Summary: What should have been the worst day of your life, quickly becomes the most confusing one when your family’s sworn enemy helps patch you up, and refers to you as his guest.

CW: Description of injury, blood, blood loss, minor anxiety and confusion, blood drinking (from a wine glass)

Word Count: 3765 Words!

Like my work? Come follow and support me here: Link

Reblogs and comments appreciated!

Tag list: @Onewiththebeanbag @starrlo0ver @sleepyendymion @dame-sunflowers

First: Here

Last: Here

Next: Here

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All within the span of a few hours, you couldn’t help but wonder if you had lost your mind.

Or maybe you had died, or were still at home, and hallucinating from trauma and blood loss?

Either way, as it were, you still couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that Dracula was currently carrying you in one of his arms.

That, and you weren’t fighting or struggling to leave his gentle grip, either.

Perhaps you really did hit your head too hard when ‘sparring’ your family, and this was some sort of… weird, desperate hallucination your brain had cooked up?

Though as much as you wanted to deny it, you knew deep down this was real.

Sure, your brain was definitely a bit hazy, but you knew this was no hallucination.

And that only confused you further.

‘What has my life come to…?’ You couldn’t help but wonder to yourself.

Even if your brain was in a bit of a fog, you still remembered what happened clearly.

You had accidentally released Dracula from his stony prison. You weren’t quite sure how, but if you had to wager a guess, you’d assume it was most likely your blood.

It was the only explanation you had.

Before today, you had touched the statue before, so it wasn’t just touch activated.

The only other conclusion you had was from how your hands had been covered in blood when you had tripped and fallen, landing on the statue to balance yourself.

Your brain was still reeling from it.

Dracula was back. He was alive.

What was more confusing though, was how he was acting towards you.

You had been so certain you were going to die. The injuries you had more or less ensured it.

There would have been no way you would be able to defeat Dracula with the injuries you had.

Yet…

He never attacked you.

Instead of mocking you and ending your life, he showed concern.

Your mind was still trying to process it all, his first words on repeat inside your mind.

“Who did this to you?”

Just thinking about it, and how fiery his crimson eyes had been as he asked that question, and how his cold hand had gently cradled your face…

You could feel your face heating up just thinking about it.

His hand had been so cool against your skin, such a calming feeling despite the overwhelming panic that threatened to choke you.

Ruby eyes had scanned over your body for injuries, clearly not liking what he was seeing. That was something else you were still struggling to wrap your head around.

Dracula had seemingly cared about you. He hadn’t even spoken more than five words to you, and he was enraged on your behalf, that much was clear.

“May I pick you up?” He had eventually asked. You had been too stunned to answer his first question, but this seemingly brought you out of your stupor for a brief moment.

Dumbly, you nodded, unable to really think to say or do anything else.

In all honesty, you were still processing everything then, just like you were now.

Slowly, Dracula made a point to show you both his hands, which were empty.

“I’m picking you up now, alright?”

He moved slowly to avoid startling you, though you still jumped when he slipped an arm under your legs and behind your back, and lifted you with ease.

As he stood to his feet, it was as if you weighed nothing more than a feather to him.

It took everything in you not to panic as he held you, your mind swimming as he held you close to his chest.

Holy hell he was tall…

And his scent… you found it odd how you found it almost comforting.

The vampire then turned towards the doors of the throne room, and you had made a small noise.

Pausing, he looked down at you.

You tried not to stumble over your words, shakily pointing to your bag on the floor.

“M-My…” you tried to speak, the words choking up in your throat. Thankfully, Dracula seemed to catch on to what you wanted.

“Of course.” He spoke, his voice so loud, yet so… calm? Gentle?

His voice resonated deep in you, striking you to your very core. It was strange, quiet, yet demanding of respect. Just like his entire presence.

He walked over to where your bag laid on the ground, each step proving just how tall he was. In what would have been quite a lot steps for you, were just a few mere steps for him.

When he approached your bag on the floor, he simply opened his free hand, and your bag flew into it.

You tried not to let your jaw drop, or jump at the easy display of power.

Making sure everything was in order, he began walking through the throne room, passing the massive doors at the entrance.

When he passed through the doors, your eyes widened when you noticed the castle.

It had changed.

The general shape had changed, there were new towers, and it seemed wider than before. Even the courtyard below the stairs leading up to his main tower seemed to look different, with what must have been monsters running around below.

The clouds surrounding the castle were darker, blocking out what little bit left of the day was here. Must be for himself and the other vampires to walk around during the day…

So it was true. Castlevania really did take different forms each time Dracula was revived.

Dracula continued through into the castle at a brisk pace, his stride long and fast. As he walked through the castle, you couldn’t help but flinch back when monsters began passing through.

Some would stop and bow, others would offer Dracula a brief greeting as he passed. You were gobsmacked.

You got plenty of odd looks, but Dracula seemed unfazed and uncaring about any of them. His pace never halted.

Briefly, you wondered where he was taking you. Maybe you shouldn’t have let your family’s arch nemesis pick you up and carry you around without explanation…

He walked through what felt like endless halls, taking many twists and turns, before ending up in a posh hall with several different doors.

The vampire stopped in front of one near the middle, and adjusted your bag before grabbing the handle.

When he pushed it open, you were surprised to see a well kept, beautiful guest room.

Words wanted to leave your mouth about it, but you found they were unable to escape your throat.

You were still just so… stunned. It was incredibly difficult to process everything happening.

That… and you were starting to grow tired.

How long have you been pushing yourself? Add the trauma, the injuries, and the fact you still pushed yourself to hike to Dracula’s castle on top of it…

Then the fall after an adrenaline rush, and the blood loss…

The wounds on your body were still only badly treated at best. In fact, in that moment, a wave of panic flew through you when you realized the wound on your side was still open.

It wasn’t pouring blood like when you had received it, but it was still very much raw.

How long since Dracula had eaten? Was the fresh scent of your blood not enticing to him? Were you being placed in here to be his next meal?

You doubted you’d be a tasty one. Or a filling one, with how low on blood you were. It would be a miracle if you ever recovered from this unscathed at this point.

Internally, you debated on trying to tell him you probably wouldn’t be that delicious, but you held your tongue.

It’s not like you could really trust yourself to speak properly anyway.

Plus… you were just… exhausted. Accepting your possible fate at this point.

You have no idea why Dracula would treat you this gently in the first place if he intended to feed on you, but hey, you could at least hope it wouldn’t hurt.

If anything, it would probably hurt less than the shit you have been through today, let alone the past few years.

Dracula stepping into the room, and shutting the door behind him brought you out of your inner musings.

He was quick, and across the room in an instant.

When he reached the bed, he surprised you again by gently setting you down on top of it.

He was fast, grabbing a box off the dresser on the bedside table you had missed.

After staring for a moment, your brain finally processed it as a first aid kit of some kind.

…First aid?

The Dracula was going to treat your wounds?

You were in such a fog, it took you a moment to realize he was talking to you.

Scrunching your face up, you finally managed to speak.

“…Sorry?” You asked, your throat so dry your word almost came out as a croak.

“I need to move your shirt to treat the wound.” He told you again.

Oh.

His eyes weren’t nearly as scathing, but still seemed very hot with anger. With closure inspection though, you were able to make out the concern on his face.

Blinking for a moment, you simply nodded your head, and sluggishly lifted your shirt for him.

That was nice of him to ask, you figure.

Dracula didn’t hesitate, pressing a rag to your wound to clean it, with some sort of ointment on it. You winced and hissed at the pain, but didn’t move.

“Yes, good, you’re doing excellent…” he mumbled, a look of concentration now on his face as he proceeded to clean the injury.

Heat rushed to your cheeks as you tried to process his words.

Was he praising you? For not flinching away?

…Why did you like it?

You decided to try and lock those thoughts away at the moment and let future you worry about them instead.

It was hard to pay attention to what he was doing, let alone stay awake. You were really only recognizing pain at this point.

It wasn’t until he was wrapping the injury that you notice him finishing up, and moving to your head.

“Hold still.” He spoke, and summoned a small orb of light. This time, you flinched, though a hand on the back of your head kept you from moving far.

“What-“

Gently, he shushed you, holding the orb a distance from your eyes, looking at your face closely.

Swallowing thickly, you were going to ask what he was doing, before the orb disappeared in a fit of smoke.

“Concussion. Just how long have you been walking around with these injuries?” He asked, his face scrunching up in concern as he looked at the bruising on your head, gently beginning to tend to it.

“Uh… since… this morning?” You rasped, wincing at your own voice.

“This morning!?” He suddenly halted, looking increasingly upset.

Coughing, you tried to avoid looking at his eyes.

“Live… far away. Had to get away.” You whispered, absently rubbing your throat, trying to ignore your heart trying to panic in your chest.

You briefly noticed his muscles tense, before he took a deep breath, and exhaled.

“I see.”

Your heart hammered in your chest, but it lessened a bit. Dracula at least didn’t seem mad at you. You may as well take that as a blessing.

Though it made you feel a bit odd, how angry your enemy was on your behalf.

…Was he even your enemy at this point? You weren’t entirely sure, not with how he finished tending to your head, and moved to the wound on your arm.

What enemies tended to the other, so gentle and careful?

Dracula didn’t even have to be gentle with you to take care of your wounds. He could have just done it without a care for your pain.

Yet, he was so careful, using precise movements with each injury to clean and bandage it with as little pain as possible.

Faintly, you remembered reading somewhere he had an interest in medicine. You imagine having eternal life certainly gave you the opportunity to learn and study any subject that came to mind.

A stinging pain brought you out of your clouded thoughts. Dracula had moved to your leg, carefully cleaning the wound there now for stitching.

You couldn’t help but stare.

Not only did he treat your wounds with precision, he looked beautiful doing so.

His hair beautifully cupped his face, while his hands worked expertly to stitch the injury.

It wasn’t a surprise, per se. Vampires had always been hauntingly beautiful. Part of the charm and the allure for prey.

But seeing Dracula alive in front of you, his hair cupping his face as it laid in waves on his shoulders…

Oh yeah. You had definitely lost a lot of blood if this is what you were thinking about.

A few moments of silence passed as you watched him.

What now? What will you do after he’s done?

Your blood felt cold at that thought.

You licked your lips.

“…”

Dracula’s eyes flickered up to you when you made a small noise.

“Am…” you spoke out, swallowing thickly in an attempt to wet your throat and swallow your nerves.

“Am I… a prisoner?” You asked, heart beginning to pound. However, you didn’t move, or even tense up.

It's not like you could do anything if you were, anyway. Not with these injuries and how exhausted you were. You were rescind to your fate.

Though you at least hoped he would be honest if he intended to keep you as a blood bag or something.

Dracula’s eyes bore into yours.

“No. You are my guest.” He spoke, his voice low and quiet.

Your eyes widened slightly.

A guest? You, a Belmont, as Dracula’s guest?

“Guest?” You repeated, almost unbelievingly.

He let out a noise of acknowledgement.

“You may leave at any point. Everyone is under orders not to attack you, unless you strike them first.”

His words, despite being so quiet, rang loudly in your ears.

You could leave at any time.

For some reason, just hearing those words relaxed you. Your body seemingly slumped in response, loads of tension leaving your body.

Dracula let out a pleased noise from his throat, at least, you think it was a pleased noise.

You just hoped he was being true to his word.

Did Dracula have any reason to lie? If he wanted you dead, he would have killed you the moment he was freed.

If he wanted you as a blood bank, you imagine he would have told you. He seemed like the type to mock you about it if that was his true intention.

You were so lost in thought, you almost didn’t hear knocking on the door.

A moment later, a maid walked in, carrying what looked like clothes.

“Here you are, my lord.” She spoke, and you eyed her warily.

You had heard about Dracula having servants. It was weird to see one now though after seeing an empty castle for so long.

She was short, with short black hair, but you knew she wasn’t human. Her purple eyes that glanced over at you were a dead give away.

It wasn’t clear what she was, but it didn’t matter in the end. She placed the clothes nearby on the bed, and gave Dracula a bow before leaving.

You eyed the clothes, before nearly jumping when Dracula spoke again.

“They are for you. I imagine you wouldn’t wish to sit in bloodied cloth.”

Blinking, you looked down, and winced.

He wasn’t wrong. Your clothes were trashed.

Parts of your outfit were shredded and cut, and the rest was soaked and crusty with blood.

Gross.

Though it made you wonder just how much willpower Dracula had for your blood soaked clothes not to be a bother.

Still… you were kind of touched he had requested clothes for you. You had no idea when or how he had done so, but given he didn’t have to do that, it was very considerate on his behalf.

It seems he must be serious about you being a guest, including taking care of you.

A weird thought to think about.

Though you were having many of those at the moment.

He was finishing up your stitches, when you decided to try and speak.

“U-Um…” you began, and quickly turned away to cough, cursing how sore and tired you were.

You turned back, and his eyes were on you again.

“Thank you.” You managed to say, trying desperately to come off as sincere despite the situation. You really did mean it, but the circumstances were definitely odd.

Dracula’s eyes seemed to flicker with an unknown emotion for a moment, before he turned back to your leg.

“Of course.”

It seemed like he wished to say more, but held back from doing so. Dracula was the one patching you up though, so you didn’t exactly wish to push him.

Not a moment later, he finished wrapping up your leg, and gathered the supplies and began to put them away.

When he stood up, you found yourself craning your neck to see him again, his eyes piercing into your own. This time though, they didn’t have as intense of a hellfire look as before.

You still felt incredibly small compared to him. It was hard to register just how massive and powerful this guy was, just from standing up straight.

“Dinner will be brought to you shortly. I highly recommend you rest before and after eating, if you can stomach it.”

He then gestured to a door in the room.

“You are welcome to use the room’s facilities as need be to clean yourself. If you require anything, tell the guards outside, and they shall let me know.”

Why did his voice have to sound like that? You found yourself growing so sleepy just from listening to it, from how deep and calming it was.

You really needed to rest if you were growing attached to this man’s voice.

Still, you gave him a nod, putting your hands in your lap.

“Thank you. I…”

You cleared your throat with a wince.

“I appreciate it.”

He nodded to you once, before turning and walking towards the door.

“I will return later to check on you after I have my affairs in order. Though if you do wish to leave, you may do so.” He spoke right before opening the door, reminding you once more you were not trapped.

You were still free to leave at any point.

After that, he left, the door closing on its own by some unseen force behind him.

You blinked, then blinked again.

“I… am so tired.” You whispered, your thoughts feeling like mush at the overwhelming day you have had. At this point, it was as if you were going numb, unable to properly react.

It was almost worrying how calm you felt.

But you were still so tired.

You glanced over to the pile of clothes, and looked them over. They seemed normal enough, a white button up and some loose pants.

With a yawn, you grabbed the clothes, and headed to the bathroom to clean up and change, barely registering how the clothes seemed to be the perfect size.

You didn’t hear the thump from outside the room.

Outside your room, Dracula had collapsed against the wall of the hallway.

Pressing his back against the wall, he clutched one of the bloodied bandages in his hands, shaking.

He lifted the bandage to his face, and held the cloth close, inhaling the sweet scent of your blood.

His Little Belmont’s blood.

It was both calming, and addictive. It took all his will power not to have a taste, lest he barge into your room for more.

He was hungry. Too hungry.

But your health came first. You looked to be on Death’s doorstep when you had walked into his throne room earlier, and he couldn’t sit by and do nothing.

Not now that he was free.

Taking another deep breath, he clenched the bloodied bandage in his hand, before putting it away in one of his pockets.

He needed to feast, and soon.

Sparing one more glance at the door, he sighed.

This isn’t how he had imagined gaining his freedom once more, but he was thankful it didn’t include your death.

For now though, he had plans to make. You obviously weren’t injured from a hunt, the look in your eyes said as much. No doubt you could have easily mentioned what beast it would have been that had attacked you if it were that simple.

No, someone had hurt you. Presumably someone you knew.

His eyes narrowed before he took to the shadows, ordering one of his servants for a drink as he reappeared and sat on his newly remade throne.

Someone hurt his Little Belmont.

As much as he would hate to admit it, he had grown attached to you.

Attached, and dare he say, protective.

He had always been protective of his things that were precious to him.

As of now, you were no different.

You had somehow wormed your way into his undead heart, simply from being yourself.

A servant stopped by, and handed him a filled wine glass, before bowing and leaving.

Taking a sip, Dracula enjoyed the burn of blood down his throat, before leisurely swirling the glass as he mused about this situation.

Yes, you were too much like Leon for your own good. He would keep you to your word, and talk with you later.

After you had healed, of course.

Your health was his main priority. Dracula wouldn’t put that pressure on you when it was clear you were barely hanging on by a thread.

Dracula would have some potions made for you as soon as possible. Unfortunately, it was a lengthy, and delicate process with alchemy. It would take take time, even for him.

But you needed it, badly.

It was obvious you were overwhelmed. No doubt from whatever happened, accidentally reviving him, and him trying to take care of you.

Putting more pressure on you at the moment would lead to possible rash decisions. He wanted you to be able to think clearly when having an in depth discussion, after all.

Taking another sip of his drink, he licked his lips.

Dracula had a feeling things were going to be interesting.

He just hoped it was for the better, rather than for the worst.

dextrocardia | 08

Dextrocardia. Originally a medical term, but also a way to describe someone who's got their heart in the right place.

"She's been moved to another operation to help out. This pairing is necessary because you'll be undercover as spouses. I know you two can be professional about this."

"What?!" It's Jeongguk's upset voice that sounds, and for once, you share his displeased opinion.

Spouses.

pairing: cop!jk x f detective!reader

genre: undercover cops, fake marriage, e2l au, angst, fluff, smut

word count: 6.3k

warnings: a lot of talk about assault of different kinds (sexual included), harrassment, sexism, there's blood and very serious injuries, trauma heavy. if you feel very bothered reading stuff like that, please skip this <3

rating: NC-17 – Adults Only

masterlist

part 8/? 

<previous | next>

© dextrocardia is copyright jeonstudios. this fic can not be modified, re-posted, or translated without my permission.

“Answer me. You’re a double agent?!”

You’re too terrified to be embarrassed by the way you’re trembling, sitting on the floor in your pair of black cotton shorts and gray t-shirt, pressing your back against the wall furthest from the door. Not that nor the tears that start to wet your lashes and soon enough roll down your cheeks.

Despite not being too surprised, you’re obviously not any less scared.

“Please don’t,” you beg, your vision starting to become blurry from tears, “you don’t have to do this. Please, Jeongguk.”

You focus on the silhouette of him, the dark blue dress shirt and black pants. “I know what I did was wrong, I know, but I didn’t know what else to do. He was pressing t–too hard, and I couldn’t breathe.”

Tears and fear block your throat, and your heart beats a thousand beats a minute, but you try your best to get the words out, try to convince him even though you know it’s a lost cause.

“I know I’m not im–important or pretty, but I didn’t want to die. What was I supposed to do? My hand slipped out, and I–I just reached for his g–gun.” 

Wiping the tears with your wrist, you see how he changes tactics, the way Jeongguk’s eyes have gone from furious to looking worried. How he’s put on his acting face.

“What… what are you talking about?” he asks, voice void of any anger as he takes another step toward you. “I didn’t mean to raise my voice or scare you, I’m sorry, but what… are you talking about?”

Quickly reaching for the razor blade in your bra, you accidentally cut your finger when you remove the blade from its case. Blood drips down your hand as you raise it in a pathetic warning.

“Don’t come any closer,” you try to sound confident, but maybe it is a bit embarrassing how your voice shakes and your hand is so unsteady that you have to support it with the other. “Please, just let me go, Jeongguk? I’m pulling the report, and I’ve apologized. If you let me go, I’ll disappear tonight, okay? You won’t ever have to see me again.”

Your gaze is drawn to the knife still gripped by his veiny hand, and so is his. A second later, he tosses the knife to the other side of the room where it hits the floor with a clinking sound and looks to bounce underneath the bed, closer to you than him, as if he wouldn’t still be able to reach it before you.

“What… report?” he asks, sinking down to one knee, still only a few steps into the room. “What are you talking about?”

But you’re not fooled by those pretty eyes, and it frustrates you how he thinks he can look at you softly and have you forget everything. It lives permanently in the back of your mind. The threats, the attempts, the fear, and now ultimately, the defeat.

“Stop pretending, Jeongguk,” you plead, sniffling. “We both know what this is. If you’re going to do it, just… get it over with. Please. Don’t play with me like this.”

Like he’s thinking hard, maybe even realizing something, his eyes lose focus, and he stands up.

“You’re talking about Hoseong, aren’t you?”

You’re quiet—well, as quiet as a crying, pathetic mess can be—when he looks down at you. You’re not sure what it is that he’s hoping for, if it’s for you to lower your guard and vulnerably crawl into his arms or if he’s deliberately trying to provoke you to get a reaction that he can answer. You meet his eyes with your razor blade slowly lowered, and he waits for something, his eyes searching yours for answers he already knows. But you can’t give them, and he backs out of the room with you still trembling on the floor.

Raindrops smatter against the windshield as Jeongguk drives toward the city.

His phone dings with a text, and he raises it, reading the preview.

He sets his course toward a more specific goal. A bar.

It’s long since dark when he steps out of the car, locking it behind him and looking around. It took him around forty-five minutes to reach the well known destination, and he spent them all in silence, his thoughts loud enough.

The wet pavement reflects light from the streetlights and a few neon signs, and Jeongguk walks with determined steps up to the door and pushes it open, placing the car keys into his breast pocket for easy access.

Inside, it’s busy as usual. People are sitting in booths or on bar stools around round tables or the bar itself, and they’re laughing, chatting loudly and singing along to the music.

Not long after entering, Jeongguk spots them. His friends. There’s three of them, sitting around a circular table.

“JK, hey!” Seunghwan calls, alcohol evident in his flushed cheeks.

Jeongguk nods in a neutral greeting, coming to stand before their table. Hoseong tips his bottle of beer slightly to the side, looking at him curiously. 

“Thought you were shipped out? How’s it going?” he speaks loudly over the music. “Can’t believe you got her to apologize, man,” he grins, leaning back.

“Had to ask you a few things,” Jeongguk answers at the same volume, finding it harder than he thought to keep his emotions at bay, “about her, actually.”

 Hoseong and Ryung both raise their eyebrows, but Jeongguk continues. “I want to know what happened that night. When you got shot.”

Although looking surprised, Hoseong still lets a smile pull on his lips. “Well, I fucked her. You know that, and she got pissed because I wasn’t interested in being her boyfriend.”

Seunghwan chuckles, but Jeongguk doesn’t find it funny.

“You ‘fucked her?’” he repeats. He knew that, but this time, he’s looking at the situation in a new light. 

“Yeah, I fucked her,” Hoseong shrugs, toning it down just a tad, like he’s suspecting where Jeongguk is taking the conversation.

“Well, did she want you to ‘fuck her?’ Did she threaten you with the gun because you turned her down, and you were shot by accident?” Jeongguk stares at the person he thought was his friend. “Or was it intentional?”

For about two seconds, Hoseong just looks at Jeongguk like he’s… assessing something, and Jeongguk isn’t sure how the man in front of him will react.

But he leans back again, rolling his eyes lightheartedly. “Oh, come on, man, don’t be like that. You know how women are these days, they want to be tied up and fucked, but when you don’t want her to call you ‘sweetie pie’ and hold hands, they scream ‘rape.’”

Jeongguk holds his breath for a second, trying to keep his cool. He looks around at the unsuspecting environment. “Let’s talk outside, I can barely hear you in here.”

Before he turns on his heel, heading back toward the exit, he sees Hoseong stand from the barstool nonchalantly.

It doesn’t rain anymore, and the outside air is a lot colder than the sweaty atmosphere inside. Somehow, the difference in sound level makes the situation all that more real. Jeongguk walks away from the entrance to give them some privacy, not to be nice but to maximize his chances of getting the entire story.

“You forced yourself on her, didn’t you?” he turns around, putting his clenched fists in his pockets. Hoseong and Ryung followed, but Seunghwan stayed behind. “You tied her up in the hotel room you were staked out in for that case, and you raped her. She got free and shot you in self-defense. Am I getting close?”

“You’re overreacting, dude. You know she was in love with me, right?”

Jeongguk feels his anger and frustration grow, but he tries to keep calm. “I knew that she loved you, yes, but it doesn’t mean she automatically wanted to sleep with you. She filed a report too, didn’t she? What happened with that?”

Hoseong shrugs indifferently, and it’s unclear if he doesn’t know or doesn’t care. Or maybe he just doesn’t want Jeongguk to know. Jeongguk shakes his head in disbelief and turns around. He needs to leave before he does something stupid.

Ryung calls his name, but Jeongguk is already walking back to the car briskly. He gets into the driver’s seat, slams the door shut, and starts the car, and when he glances back in the rearview mirror, he sees the people he thought he knew standing close together, talking. They’re looking his way.

The drive back is tortuous and slow. Jeongguk navigates back out of the city with ease, but then he’s stuck on the freeway with nothing and no one else but himself and his thoughts. He’s been living a lie ever since he started his current job, and slowly but surely, his brain puts all the pieces together. The pieces he has—some, he’s certainly still missing.

In a fit of rage and despair, he gives the steering wheel three harsh and undeserved hits with his palm, the horn blaring each time.

“Oh, God,” he whispers, shutting his eyes for a microsecond. What has he done? What has he done, what the fuck has he done?

He bites his lip, reaching for the phone he threw onto the passenger side, his eyes alternating between the road and Google, where he’s searching for a phone number.

Your limbs are frozen and your senses both feel like they’re hyper tuned to your surroundings and numb all at once. You don’t know when Jeongguk left–actually, you’re not even certain that he did leave. Sure, you heard the door close and the car drive off, but he could’ve parked it a few houses down and snuck back inside somehow, waiting somewhere in the dark for you to lower your guard. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you hear Fenrir bark, but all you can focus on is that dark doorway.

Then, you hear sounds. A car door, then the front door. Fenrir stops barking, and your worry grows. Then, there are steps, and someone is coming for you. Is it Jeongguk? Or did he leave you to one of his friends? Is it Hoseong? Unable to stop them, tears start to flow again. You promised yourself you’d meet your end with at least a bit of dignity, but you’re not that brave, evidently.

It’s Jeongguk who appears in the doorway, his hair and clothes slightly wet. You look behind him, waiting for the rest of his colleagues to come into view, but they don’t.

“Hey,” he greets quietly, looking like he’s trying to appear non-threatening, but you remember hearing him promise his friends to put you in your place, show you that it’s a man’s world you’re living in. 

Put an end to it. He’s certainly tried before.

You press yourself impossibly closer to the wall as he takes another step into the room. You’ve cheated death four times–that you know of–but you won’t be able to this time.

“I’m not going to hurt you, okay?”

It doesn’t matter that his brown eyes look kind and soft, they’re not, and he doesn’t care for you. He thinks you’re ugly, doesn’t think anyone could ever want or love you. He only cares about him, his friends, and their pride. He thinks that you should’ve died that night, and he made you apologize for surviving.

Now he’s just playing with his food. 

“Stop, don’t come any closer. I’m warning you,” you panic, raising the blade again.

Jeongguk stops, and his eyes land on your other hand, on the nick in the skin of your ring finger. “You’re still bleeding.”

He takes another slow step, and another. You keep your terrified eyes on him, but you’re sure he can tell that with every step of his, your trembling worsens.

“Please stop playing this game with me,” you plead, tears rolling down your cheeks. He won, they all did, can’t he just put you out of your misery?

“I’m not playing. Here, let me look at your finger.”

He’s so close now that he sinks to one knee and holds his hand out. You’re still gripping the razor blade, but he obviously doesn’t think you’ll actually cut him. You don’t make any move to let him see the hand you’ve put in your lap, so as slow as he can, Jeongguk reaches for it, himself.

You don’t have the courage to fight him. Logically, you know it’s your skin that’s freezing cold, probably due to shock, but his skin is burning against you when he grabs your hand. He must feel every little tremble as well. You shut your eyes. It helps not seeing him, but you still smell him, feel him around you.

“I can’t hurt you. You knew that,” your shaky mess of a voice states your discovery quietly.

Just… any second now. A blow to your head, or a knife to your throat. You made a breakthrough in the case, so he doesn’t need you anymore. He’s going to end your life, plant whatever weapon he uses at the Jung’s, and frame them for your murder. An undercover mission gone wrong–they found out about your real identities and killed you. Jeongguk escaped, and he gets the glory of clearing the case and putting the bank robbers and subsequent murderers behind bars. Not to mention the relief of knowing you’ll take the truth to the grave, and the new chief, whoever they are, will be none the wiser.

“Where’s Fenrir? What did you do to him?” you whisper, breathing becoming more difficult by the second as you’re imagining all the ways he could kill you.

Surprisingly, Jeongguk lets go of your hand and stands up, backing a few steps. You chance a glance at him and see that he looks worried–there’s a crease in his forehead and his eyes are wide. 

“I haven’t done anything to him. He’s in the backyard.”

So he’s dead then. You don’t comment on it, instead you shut your eyes as another wave of tears runs down your cheeks. Like before, the rate at which you’re breathing increases, and you feel lightheaded, even as you’re sitting down.

“I’m not going to hurt you, okay?” he mumbles, and the sound of movement has you peeking in fear. “Just… hold on.”

For some reason, he’s backing out of the room, leaving you once again in the limbo of not knowing what he’s planning. The rain beats harshly against the roof, and the sound of thunder makes you jump. You hate storms, nothing good ever happens during them.

You feel yourself going insane, waiting for him, but he’s not gone for long this time. Do you prefer him in the room with you? At least then you know where he is and what he’s doing. It makes you anxious, not knowing. Maybe he’s pouring gasoline over the furniture, waiting to light a match?

Surprisingly, you watch as he returns to round the bed–away from you–and approaches the dresser. He rummages through the top drawer, searching for something, until he finds it and turns around. 

It’s when you see him, rounding the bed again–towards you–with the handcuffs in hand that you scramble back along the wall and into the corner. You remember how he teased you about it, arrogantly offering to tie you up, cuff you to the bed. If he’s planning on resuming what Hoseong started…

Noticing your distress, Jeongguk’s eyes grow wider, and he stops and stands in front of the bed with his hands raised.

“Oh, no, no, they’re not for you,” he explains, looking at you, sitting terrified in the corner. His eyes move from you to the silvery cuffs dangling from his hand and back again. “He cuffed you, didn’t he? Hoseong?”

You’re not sure where he’s going with it, but your guess has evolved. He wants to act sweet and like he cares so that you’ll give in and he can do whatever he wants to punish you, gloating about how he managed to trick you. The dumb feminazi falling for it and thinking he cares for her.

“Look.”

You do, watching anxiously as he opens one side of the handcuffs and locks it around his wrist. The other side, he closes around the metal bed frame, leaving about two yards between you. He sits down and throws the key, which lands at your feet.

“I can’t hurt you.”

You don’t think about the fact that even if the bed probably weighs a ton, Jeongguk could surely pull it with him if he wanted to reach you. No, you don’t know what you’re thinking about, if anything, you’re just so overwhelmed and scared and relieved that you barely have time to reach for the empty, gray plant pot before you’re throwing up. It’s just bile, proof that it’s been a while since you’ve eaten anything. 

Another thing you haven’t done is sleep. And for your poor, terrified, starved, and sleep-deprived body, it’s too much. As carefully as you can when the room is spinning, and someone is speaking in the background, you lie down, your cheek against the cold floor, and you pass out.

You’re still absolutely exhausted when you come to. It takes a while for your eyes to even open, and you can guess what a mess you must look like. Your head is pounding, surely from dehydration, and your entire body aches. At least some parts of you don’t feel that cold anymore–someone has thrown a duvet from the bed over you, covering your body pretty well except for your left foot and your right shoulder. You’re not trembling anymore, not even as your eyes find Jeongguk.

You’re not sure how much time has passed, but he’s still sitting there, across from you with his wrist cuffed to the bed. He’s moved the bedside table away in order to lean his back against the wall. He hasn’t noticed that you’re awake yet–after all, you haven’t moved–and he keeps his eyes on his right hand that he rests atop his knees, his feet flat against the floor. 

You can’t help but think that he looks like he’s waiting patiently for something, maybe the train, worried that it might be late but understanding that there’s no use in pacing. As you observe him tiredly, you notice something very faintly, so faintly you’re not sure if you’re imagining it. It almost looks as if his eyes are puffier than usual, maybe just a tad bit red too. Like how people look when they were crying a long time ago. Now that you think about it, his hair looks a little messier than usual, and he’s unbuttoned a few buttons on his shirt, as well as the sleeves that he’s rolled up a tad.

A chill runs through your body, and slowly, you pull the duvet closer around your body, notifying Jeongguk of your consciousness.

“Are we waiting for your friends?” your voice is so strained, it comes out as a whisper.

He looks at you, smiling the saddest little smile you’ve ever seen on anyone, and he shakes his head. “No, I called Jihyo, and she’s on her way to pick you up. It’ll take her a while to get here but she’s on her way.”

You narrow your tired eyes slightly. He’s lying.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” he apologizes gently. “If I had, I wouldn’t…”

It’s the way he looks bothered that almost has you believing him. But you know just how good of an actor he is. He has despised you ever since he arrived at the district, commented on you and your body with disgust. Yet, you’ve seen how he’s capable of holding your hand in his, kissing you gently and like he means it. Only to go back to insulting you. 

“Everyone knows,” you state quietly, calling his bluff.

“I didn’t. And I’d never dream of hurting you, I promise.”

“You hate me more than anyone, Jeongguk.”

It really is true. Jeongguk obviously feels immense loyalty to his friends, and he’d do anything for them. He’s been one of the most vocal ones, letting everyone know just what a terrible, disgusting, worthless person you are.

“And I’ve gotten to know you pretty well since you transferred, especially here. You can say how sorry you are and how you didn’t know all you want, but I know you’re lying. I hurt your friend and now, with the chief retiring, I’m a threat. What would happen if the new chief is a woman and our station’s little secret gets out? Pretty unlikely, but not impossible, right?”

You swallow, blinking away tears. “You can lie all you want but we both know I was never going to make it back home.”

There’s something that looks like pain in his brown eyes as he watches you.

“I don’t hate you. I thought I did because–fuck–I thought the chief was protecting you by not dealing with the problem, not that he was protecting him. Us.”

His frustration turns into something reminding you of guilt when he continues. “You have no idea how sorry I am. And I can promise you, it’s never occurred to me to hurt you. Not physically, at least. I know I’ve been a dick to you–which is obviously coming back to bite me now–and I wanted to make you feel bad for what I thought you did, but I’d never want to injure you. No one has any plans on doing so.”

His words make you chuckle even though it’s not fun in the least. 

“What?” he looks confused.

“Do you think I’m stupid? Not only have I found the trackers you’ve put on my car, but you’ve tampered with the brakes on it three times in the last months. My mechanic keeps bugging me about filing a report, saying I shouldn’t drive any car for my own safety. How do I explain to her that I can’t exactly go to the police?”

Jeongguk only stares at you, and it makes you all the more frustrated.

“Obviously, I can’t say exactly which one of you is doing it, or who it is standing across the street from my home, just watching, late at night sometimes. Or whose breathing it is on the phone calls. Do you remember like three months ago when I made the mistake of getting coffee and stopping by the printer, leaving my mug unsupervised for three minutes? Who was it that put the fucking cyanide in it? You can tell them that it left a bit of suspiciously chunky foam on the surface.”

“Cyanide?”

“Yeah. Had it tested. You can also tell whoever it is that keeps throwing poisoned meat into my yard that I always check it before letting Fenrir out.”

Jeongguk is quiet, looking like someone just turned his world upside down.

“You really meant it when you said you thought I’d poison your food if you let me cook. That’s why you barely sleep too, right? You’re scared I’m going to hurt you. You brought the razor blades and the dog for me, didn’t you? You’re more scared of me than of the suspects.”

“Why on earth do you think I have a trained personal protection Doberman to begin with?”

Jeongguk puts his face in his free hand, “Fuck, I’m so stupid. I had no idea.”

“Yeah,” you agree quietly, closing your eyes for a second. You know Jeongguk is only playing with you because there’s just no chance he’s gone so long being besties with a rapist and attempted murderer without knowing. Partaking in harassment without knowing the reason why? No, no way. But does it matter at the moment? No, probably not.

“Why did you agree to come here?” he asks, sounding almost… helpless? “If you thought it was a setup?”

“Well,” you start, pain spreading through your exhausted body. Your lips pull into a small, sad smile. “I can’t exactly decline anything at work or I won’t have a job to go to. With the kind of letter of recommendation the chief would leave me, no one else would hire me. Besides, we both know I wouldn’t be safe just by quitting.”

The smile fades, and a tear escapes the corner of your eyes, dropping toward the floor. “And frankly… I can’t do it anymore. It’s been two years, and it only escalates. I don’t have the energy to always look over my shoulder, or lock and barricade my doors and windows at night. I can’t afford to have my car fixed every or every other month, and one day, I’ll miss something, or you’ll go after my mother. It’s just a matter of time.”

“So you… came here, convinced that… I was going to kill you?”

Slowly, you move a hand to your face, wiping the tear away. “Yeah. I mean, I always hoped things wouldn’t end up this way. Or that, at least I could defend myself from… prolonged pain. But at the same time, I knew nothing would change. And I… I promised myself that I’d try my best to be brave and not fight it cause it’s going to happen sooner or later, but… well, I’m evidently not very brave. I’m a coward, coming here to die but still fighting it and begging you to spare my life.”

Then again, the last couple of days have made you doubt yourself. If Jeongguk came after you with a knife, could you… hurt him? With Hoseong, it was a no-brainer, and you fought for your life on pure instinct, only making a conscious effort not to shoot him where he wouldn’t survive it. 

But Jeongguk? He hates your guts, finds you disgusting, and is a man like them all. But as you look at him now, you see the way he held baby Doyun’s hand at the barbeque, and you see him playing and cuddling with Fenrir when no one’s looking. You remember the feeling of his hair between your fingers as he rests his head in your lap, and his gentle hands around your waist. You walked into the trap, and you got trapped. You couldn’t hurt him.

“So, I’m essentially your… terminal illness,” he speaks, looking at you sadly. Your eyes widen. “Eunha told me; said she wanted me to take care of my wife. But you’re not sick, are you?”

“No.”

“Fuck,” he shuts his eyes tightly before opening them and looking straight at you with a pained look, “I know you don’t believe me, but I’ve never regretted anything more in my entire life. I thought I was doing the right thing, but instead, I–fuck, I made you apologize? For–”

He hides his face in his free hand again. “I am so sorry.”

It’s hard not to believe him when he looks and sounds so genuine, but you’ve experienced his talent before. Not only that, but he’s a man–he’s not capable of caring for you.

“You said you called Jihyo?” you speak, ignoring his fake apology. 

He removes his hand from his face and nods. “Yeah, she should be here in an hour or so, I think.”

“Okay, say you actually did, why would you? She’d bring unwanted attention and risk unnecessary suspicion. Or maybe you’re just trying to kill two birds with one stone, literally?”

Jeongguk’s face remains soft even as you’re practically insulting him.

“I called her to pick you up because you trust her, and this is no place for you to be right now.”

“But you’re risking the mission. We’ve got a breakthrough but it isn’t all the way through yet, and the bugs still have almost a week’s worth of battery life left. The last thing you want is for them to become suspicious and search for the bugs.”

You don’t know why you’re so intent on letting him know just how thoroughly you see through him. Perhaps you’re simply so used to always having to prove yourself, your capacity and intelligence around men that you can’t let him think you’re nothing more than a dumb girl. You saw through everything, and he needs to know that. 

“You think I give a fuck about the mission when I literally just saw you throw up because you’re so scared of me? I’ve handcuffed myself to the bed, but you’re still shaking in the corner, looking terrified.”

At his words, you realize he’s right. You didn’t even notice the return of the tremors, and they’re not because you’re cold underneath the duvet. Thunder sounds again.

“I promise you,” he starts, looking into your eyes with what looks like a determined sort of kindness, “I’ll do my very best to make things right.”

You wouldn’t have known what to say even if you weren’t interrupted by the sound of a car. Worried but still relieved to finally see Jihyo, you carefully sit up, and then you stand, feeling weak but almost… hopeful. Maybe you’ll get out alive, after all?

But that hope is soon replaced by an ice cold chill running down your spine and filling your stomach as you peer out through the window and onto the cars that have stopped below. It’s not Jihyo. 

You take a step back from the window right as at least two men are exiting the cars, one holding an aluminum baseball bat.

“You… you called… your friends,” you state quietly, feeling dumb for not foreseeing it. He was stalling, and you fell for it. “You’ll be taking turns until I…”

Jeongguk says something, a few rushed sentences, but you’re already exiting the room, not entirely sure why or what your plan is. The sound of his handcuffs rustling against the bed frame sounds as you’re descending the stairs onto the dark bottom floor. 

Should you try to find a way out? Is there one? Jeongguk is stuck upstairs, but you stand no chance against even one man in your current state. Not to mention that you’re unarmed. Where’d Jeongguk’s knife go? Your razor blade? Last you remember, you had it before you passed out. 

You’re so in your thoughts that you don’t hear the footsteps closing in on you from behind. 

“I confronted them, and I guess they’re mad. We’ll go out back, okay?” a familiar voice speaks quietly right above your ear, making you jump. “I promise I’m not going to hurt you, just come with me.”

You turn around, meeting Jeongguk’s eyes. He holds his hand out, no trace of the cuffs. How did he get free?

“I saw them from the window, and there’s four of them. They’re surely armed with more than just the baseball bat, but we might manage to sneak out through the back if we hurry.”

You look at his hand in the darkness.

“Trust me,” he encourages gently, “I’ve got you.”

For some odd reason, you meet his honest-looking but also worried and stressed eyes. And you put your hand in his. It’s warm, and he starts to pull you with him towards the back door.

However, stopping you in your tracks, one of the kitchen windows has been left open, and hushed voices sound through the crack.

“Absolutely no shots, okay? In and out, basically.”

Well, you guess that’s a good thing? You and Jeongguk exchange glances, and he mumbles something about his own gun being in the car. You’re just about to continue when the front door is unlocked. They have a key? Fuck, they must’ve gone to the station in search of the address and key before coming here.

The door glides open, and in steps Hoseong. And then Ryung with Seunghwan in tow. The last person inside is Junseo.

Hoseong stops when he spots you, a smile breaking out on his lips. “Well…”

“Leave,” Jeongguk orders, pulling you behind his body. A thousand thoughts are swirling around in your head, but you’re none the wiser. Any minute now, Jeongguk could start laughing at how you thought he’d protect you. Or, he could be genuine, but what sucks about that scenario is that there’s no way Jeongguk could take them all. Four against one.

“We can’t. Look, I thought we got each other, Jeongguk? Bros before hoes and all that? Correct me if I’m wrong, but it seems like you might be causing us some trouble?”

Peeking from behind Jeongguk, you’re really not a fan of how Hoseong twists the bat in his hand, and your heart is freaking out.

“Technically, you caused the trouble all by yourself,” Jeongguk argues, visibly furious.

Then, before you know it, Hoseong lunges, and Jeongguk pushes you back, out of the way before he’s dodging too. Your heart is in your throat as you watch Hoseong swing at Jeongguk multiple times, Jeongguk dodging all of them before finding an opening and delivering a swift blow to Hosoeng’s head. Behind them, you spot Ryung’s dark eyes locking onto you, and you gulp.

All while Jeongguk somehow manages to grab the bat–which is good considering he’s fighting both Hoseong and Seonghwan–Ryung waits for his opening. Junseo, you don’t even know where he went.

Ryung’s chance comes when Jeongguk aims a powerful kick at Hoseong’s side, sending him flying into the kitchen table and knocking two of the chairs over and Jeongguk to the floor. Hoseong wheezes, like he got the wind knocked out of him.

Ryung decides to take the opportunity, setting off for you, but before he can reach you, he’s intercepted, Jeongguk’s wide shoulders knocking him off his path and into the fridge. While he gets back up, Jeongguk bashes Seunghwan’s head against the countertop once, and he falls down, groaning in pain. Jeongguk is about to follow, but Ryung grabs his shoulders, and manages to get Jeongguk on the ground and climb on top of him. 

You watch as Jeongguk swings the bat, Ryung catching it, but as his hands are preoccupied with it, Jeongguk uses all his strength and connects his fist with Ryung’s face so hard that you hear things crack and see blood spurt. As a result, Ryung falls off and to the floor, lying on his side. 

It’s at that moment you spot Junseo. He’s at Hoseong’s side–Hoseong who’s just gotten up–and is giving him something. Hoseong’s sinister and angry eyes find yours as he accepts the samurai sword.

Then, he’s running. 

It doesn’t take more than a split second for you to decide. You shut your eyes, preparing for the pain and the force that will surely knock you over. The force comes first, but there’s no pain, at least not for a while. It’s like Hoseong is… hugging you?

Surprised, you open your eyes, only to see that the person holding you in their arms is not Hoseong. It’s Jeongguk. Then, you become aware of the pain, a sort of… uncomfortable pin prick to your chest, only bigger? 

You look down between your bodies. There’s a hole in your t-shirt and you’re pretty sure the wetness on your skin is blood. What happened? 

Jeongguk coughs above you, and that’s when you see that the tip of the sword that’s digging into your skin is coming out of his chest. 

Even in your shocked state, you recognize the shape of the item he’s shakily stuffing into your hand. The car key.

“You need to…” he starts, his voice strained. He stumbles, and you see blood coloring his bottom lip. “...Get out of here.”

Suddenly, he groans loudly, and you feel the sword scratch your skin before Jeongguk is sinking to his knees. Behind him, Hoseong is twisting the handle roughly. Then, he lets go, letting Jeongguk’s body fall limply to the floor.

“See what you made me do?” Hoseong hisses at you, stepping over Jeongguk.

He’s caught off guard when you kick him, aiming your foot for the exact spot in which you shot him two years ago. He stumbles, his knee hitting the floor, but then he surprises you by grabbing your foot, and you fall, hitting your head against the floor. You groan in pain, lying flat on your back and seeing Hoseong stand up above you.

But before he can end you, there are gunshots. 

You’re not looking, but you hear Hoseong shout in pain, then a lot of shuffling and two other male voices you can’t quite place. 

All that you’re seeing is Jeongguk. He lies beside you, on his stomach, the long samurai sword he hung on that wall himself sticking out from his back. There’s blood, a lot of it. Some from his mouth and more from his chest and his back. You don’t need to examine him more to know that he’s already dead, that sword went straight through his heart with no chance of missing it, and there’s no surviving that. 

A face comes into view above you, and it takes your pounding head a good second to recognize it. Yoongi.

He meets your teary yet defeated eyes, and you open your mouth. “He’s dead.”

It’s both a question and a quiet statement, the side of your hand touching the side of Jeongguk’s. His eyes are closed, his face blank and void of any life, and you feel empty inside.

Through blurry tears, you see Yoongi look Jeongguk over. Then, gently and with a sad crease between his eyebrows, he nods. Abandoning Jeongguk’s lifeless body, he instead focuses on you. He tries to keep you awake, but something wet and warm pools underneath your own head, and soon enough, you can’t keep your eyes open any longer.

<previous | next>

hey pals... let me know what you think RIP <3

the road not taken 02 | myg

Summary: You could count two times when you thought you got over Yoongi and then realized you were wrong (or maybe three times?)

part two: get up and fall again

< part one

—pairing: lawyer!yoongi x actress oc

—rating: +18

—genre: brother's best friend, one sided pinning (or both?)

—warnings/tags: slow burn,angst, fluff, eventual smut, angst, sexual tension? lmao, use of drugs (just weed), flashbacks, ANGST!! Btw english is not my first language !!

—words: 11k

—a/note: I took the longest time to write this but I'm back!! I'm so happy to finally post this !! fun fact: while I was writing this I listened to let the light in by lana del rey on loop!! and ofc, last night by the strokes !! hope you like it, as always, you're welcomed to discuss this part in my asks. 🥰

series masterlist | teaser | playlist

Four years ago. 

Three weeks before New Years. 

Ever since you could remember you understood one thing that was going to define the first years of your life: you weren’t your brother. It wasn’t difficult to understand, but it was difficult to remember. 

There was a four year gap between Simon and you, and an abyss between who he was and who you were that people didn’t seem to understand. Even if you had no interest in it, just the idea of competing with the image of your brother was completely pointless; he was the first son of a first daughter, the first grandson, the perfect portrait of your mother’s face, while you were the last granddaughter, the one who came at the wrong time, the one whose eyes could only resemble the sad ghost of your father. 

You spent your preteen years witnessing how your aunts and your grandmother expected you to be the same, as if you were supposed to be as charming or as funny as him, despite the clear evidence that you were a completely different person. Maybe it was the dark clothes, or the black eyeliner you wore everyday, maybe your lack of social skills and the bad attitude in the mornings or just the desperate attempt to be different, while he was the cool sibling, you were seen as the weird one. 

Maybe growing up with that label taped to your forehead would have made you resent him, you didn’t remember when or how, but you managed to separate him from all that bullshit. You loved Simon not just because you were attached to the hip since you were born, but because he was one of the few people who never expected anything from you but to be yourself. He always encouraged you to wear whatever clothes you wanted and listen to whatever screaming rock band you liked at the moment even if he didn’t understand any of it.  And after all it wasn’t his fault that he was tall and handsome and good at basketball, it wasn’t his fault that you couldn’t and didn’t want to be a female version of him. You decided to embrace the difference. You weren’t your brother, and because of that you had to fight your way to find your own self. 

When you found The Alley, or as Yoongi called it, the theater near the park with the weird fountains, you felt it clicked for you. It wasn’t just your theater classes, it was a place filled with people just like you, people who understood you. You didn’t have to explain your jokes there, you didn’t have to think twice before speaking, the image of your brother wasn’t hovering over you when people saw you, it was nice.

For the first time you were part of a community, you spent more time in The Alley than in your home, you knew all the bands who came to practice at the place, you knew the lady who cooked pizza for all the movie nights, you were friends with the guy who sold the tickets and the girl who worked at the bar. You spent all your summers volunteering with your friends, making popcorn, accommodating the seats, writing the plays you were going to perform when October came, it was part of you. 

But when you had to leave for college you knew you had to leave everything behind. It’s been a long time since you outright refused to feel something remotely close to nostalgia. You refused to live evoking memories, to think that a fleeting good moment could make up for all the bad ones. It’s been a long time since you outright refused to live in the past, but tonight seemed to be an exception. 

When your feet turned the corner of the park and your eyes found the Christmas Lights decorating the old theater on the other side of the street, you were hit by a wave of something you knew you shouldn’t feel, something close to relief. A feeling you always seemed to run away from. 

“Should we buy popcorn?” Yoongi’s soft voice made you come out of your trance. You looked at him, waiting for the traffic light to turn red so you could cross the street. 

“We need to get in line to secure our seats first.” You explained to him, feeling a rush of nervousness washing down your body. When you had your last day at The Alley you said goodbye to everyone and never made plans to come back, this was unexpected.

“But what if popcorn runs out?” He asked, as if that could be a possible scenario. “The line isn’t even that long.”

He pointed to the short line at the entrance, which was formed by just five people. 

“Popcorn is not going to run out.” You rolled your eyes. “And even if the line is not long, we still need to get the best sets, they are not numbered.” 

Yoongi stood in his place, understanding your logic, but at the same time wondering how did you know that the seats weren’t numbered in the first place. 

He frowned “How did you know?” He asked. You turned to him, looking a bit confused, but then, a green light lit up his face, the traffic light allowing you to cross the street. You grabbed his hand, dragging him with you. 

“Hurry up!” You exclaimed, quickly crossing the street to reach the end of the line.

Yoongi ran after you, but didn’t demand the answer of his question when you reached the end of the line. It was like both of you agreed not to disrupt one of those rare good moments when you didn’t have a frown on your face, it was so hard to grasp it that he decided to do whatever you said, he even let you make fun of him when you realized he was wearing a dress white shirt under his coat, just for the sake of keeping a smile on your face. 

You touched the collar of his shirt, tugging from it just to annoy him. 

“Ouch!” He complained, but didn’t do anything to pull away from you. 

“My mom is probably thrilled that I’m hanging out with you.” You mentioned, fixing the collar and smoothing the fabric with your fingers like you weren’t the one who messed it up. “I bet she thinks that if I spend enough time with you, you’ll turn me into a lawyer like you.” 

Yoongi scoffed, believing that impossible “I’m not a lawyer yet.” He said, and you knew that, but he wasn’t far from it. “But even if I was, I couldn’t turn you into one.” 

“Of course not, we can’t both be lawyers.” You murmured, leaning on the wall behind you. “Besides, I couldn't be a lawyer… I’ve never learned to lie.” You looked at him out of the corner of your eye, waiting for his reaction, but he just rolled his eyes, sighing. 

“You’re mean…” He hissed. 

But Yoongi seemed to be fine with it, he took all your mean jokes about lawyers like a bullet, accepting his destiny, accepting how different both of you were. 

In times like these, it hurt a bit to notice how kind he was, from the tip of his red nose to the palms of his rough hands, kindness was all he had to offer. The contrast of how hard you struggled to be nice to how easy it was for him was palpable, Yoongi smiled to the skinny teenage boy who checked your tickets and the girl who gave away flyers advertising the next movie night the following weekend and never forgot to say thank you, while you had to constantly remind yourself not to curse every person who crossed your way, at least not out loud. 

Once you were inside the place you forced yourself to shake those thoughts off your head, determined to drag Yoongi across the principal hall in order to get your seats without looking back. 

There were multiple kinds of chairs at the theater, it was one of the things that made it so special. The Alley was never built to be a theater, it was a big old house bought by a group of friends years and years ago. They tore up a few walls and built it to be a place to watch movies, paint, do theater, play music or write poetry. On movie nights they put together different chairs and a projector and it suddenly turned into a cinema. 

You were sure Yoongi didn’t know any of this, it was the first time he put foot in this place, but you, who had plenty of experience, knew where the best seats were. 

The best seats were located in the middle of the room, it was a couple of recycled red cinema chairs. You remembered that Sid, one of the owners of the place, told you that he got them at an auction and that they were vintage, but to you they just looked old and dusty at the time. Of course over time you realized that they were the best place to be, they were located just in the perfect place and they were the most comfortable, but they were only two sets of four chairs, so if you didn’t hurry up you would have ended up at the back of the room sitting on some bleachers. 

Yoongi didn’t understand why you were in a rush to get there, but you were right, you got the best seats. 

“Now, stay here.” You told him “I’m coming back with popcorn.” 

You thought it was only right that if he bought the tickets, you were supposed to buy popcorn and drinks. But then again, you weren’t supposed to think of this as a date at all. 

You rushed to the entry of the room, turning on the corner near the bar and saw the stand of popcorn. As you stood in the line, you realized you didn’t notice how cold it was outside until you felt how warm the place was inside. You guessed that the hurry to get to the seats didn’t give room to think about it at all. 

Almost four years went by and it was like time didn’t pass at all inside these walls. Things in your hometown never changed, and sometimes you liked it that way, but most of the time it was the main reason why you wanted to run away from it. Your mom always said you were a creature of metamorphosis, always changing, and you accepted the title for a while, but now you were wondering if your need to morph just meant that you could never be truly happy with any of the paths that you chose for yourself. 

In no time you bought the popcorn and came back to your seat, a little displeased with the thought, but glad that you didn’t find anyone who could recognize you. You were safe for now, perhaps you could watch the movie and come back home going unnoticed. 

But of course things never worked in the way you wanted. 

“Sorry, excuse me.” You murmured, managing to carry two cups filled with coke and a bucket of popcorn, you watched your step carefully, trying not to step on other people. You raised your gaze, focusing on reaching the empty seat next to Yoongi, who was looking at his phone. 

You took a seat next to him, handing him the drink. He murmured a small ‘thank you’, but didn’t look at you. “What are you doing?” You asked him, burying a finger on the side of his torso, making him jump in surprise.

“I’m trying to prove you wrong, look…” He replied, showing the screen of his phone to you. You narrowed your eyes, trying to focus your gaze on whatever he was showing to you, a website filled with reviews of Home Alone 2. “It has good reviews.”

You snatched the phone off his hands, observing the preview photo and the poster of, what it seemed to be, Yoongi’s favorite movie. You scrolled for a couple seconds, checking if what he said was true. “Three stars' average reviews is not good.” You informed him, but now he looked offended. 

“Three stars is good for a Christmas movie, what are you talking about?” He insisted. 

“What are you talking about? The first one has five stars’ average reviews, if you settle for bad Christmas movies, that’s on you.” You teased him, giving him his phone back. 

He shook his head, scoffing “I can’t believe you think Home Alone 2 is a bad Christmas movie, it has that scene with the pigeon lady!” He kept insisting. 

“Which scene?” You asked, but by doing that, you gave yourself away. 

“What do you mean which scene?” He asked, confused. You opened your mouth, wanting to defend yourself, but then he gasped. “God, Pinky. You have never watched Home Alone 2, haven’t you? 

Your mouth hung open, starting to laugh “I-... I just-”

“No, I can’t believe it.” He laughed, shaking his head in disapproval “You never watched it.”

“I’ve watched the beginning, okay?” You tried to explain. “And I think it was enough for me to decide if it was a good movie or not.”

“Bullshit.” Yoongi said, now a bit offended that you talked shit about a movie that you didn’t even finish.“You can’t decide that if you didn’t even watch the scene with the pigeon lady.”

You laughed even harder, covering your mouth with the palm of your hand. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

He opened his eyes widely. “Of course you don’t, you didn’t watch the movie!” He exclaimed “You just have to stop pretending to be a film critic to enjoy some movies, you know that?”

You rolled your eyes. “C’mon, the fact that I’m here means that I’m willing to try.”

The fact that you were here meant you were irremediably in love with him, a voice in your head reminded you of that, and maybe it was the same thing. 

“For me?” He teased you, making you close your eyes for a split second. That didn’t help at all. 

You sank into your seat, “For you, I guess.”

And that could've been the beginning of the end of the night. You and Yoongi watching the movie and coming back home before it was too late and laying in bed remembering every word he said, like they meant something else, before falling asleep.

But nothing could ever be that simple. 

“You!” A high pitched voice interrupted the silence. You raised your gaze, startled. Your eyes found a redhead girl turned around in the seat in front of you, pointing her finger at you with a big smile decorating her bright red lips.  “I knew I recognized that voice from somewhere!”

You felt your stomach drop.

Minnie. 

“Oh, God, Minnie.” You breathed out. “You scared me!”

Perhaps on the way here you prayed so hard not to see somebody you knew tonight  that whoever that was up there in the sky heard you, but instead of helping you, decided to laugh at you in your face, because sitting directly in front of you was Minnie, one of your closest partners during your theater days. 

And the only person who you ever told about Yoongi. 

“Do I look that old?” She giggled, cupping her face in her palms “It’s only been a few years, but I feel like I haven’t seen you in decades!”

 “Yes…I mean, no!” You pressed your lips together, crossing looks with Yoongi, who looked at you with curious eyes. “I just didn't expect to see you here.”

“Me?” Minnie scrunched her nose, laughing “I didn’t expect to see you, what are you doing here?”

“Me?” You nervously laughed. “I was in town and I- we came to see the movie…” You managed to explain, trying to act as normal as possible, but you were sure that your shaking eyes, jumping from Yoongi’s face to Minnie’s, were giving you away. “This is Yoongi, by the way. And this is Minnie, a friend.” You introduced both of them. 

If any of them realized how nervous you were, they didn’t say a thing. 

Minnie, as expressive as she was, opened her eyes wide open, surprised. 

“Oh, Yoongi, Yoongi?” She asked, emphasizing every vowel of his name.

“Is there another Yoongi?” Yoongi laughed, turning his head to see you. 

You wanted to vomit. 

“Mmm, not that I know of!” She smiled, offering her hand for him to shake. “Nice to finally meet you, Yoongi-Yoongi.” Yoongi took her hand, shaking it three times right in front of your petrified face. “I heard a lot of things about you back in the day.”

Minnie winked at you in a very exaggerated manner, instantly making you freeze in your place. Now you were a hundred percent sure that you were about to vomit, but maybe that would be an amazing scenario for you, you would have to run away to the closest bathroom and wouldn’t have to be in the presence of this interaction.

“Oh, really?” Yoongi smiled, displaying his gummy smile. “What things?”

“You know, all kinds of things.” She raised her eyebrows, clearly amused with the look on your face, that begged her to please shut up. 

“Me and Minnie- we used to come here a lot when we were in high school.” You intervened in the conversation, trying to change the subject as soon as you could without thinking much. 

“That’s right, we were pretty close!” She reminisced “We were always paired up together.”

“Paired up in what?” Yoongi asked, naturally. 

“Theater.” She explained without giving you much time to think about saying something else. “Didn’t you know that your girl had her beginnings here, at The Alley?”

You gulped, and Yoongi, for the first time during the night, seemed to read you just right. He tilted his head, surprised “Well, no. She didn’t say anything.”

“Really?” She frowned, not understanding why, but Yoongi immediately got it. 

“It was a long time ago…” You trailed off, trying hard not to make it seem like a big deal, like it was just a hobby you had when you were a teenager, but Yoongi knew you. He could see it in your eyes, the same look you had when Simon caught you using his legos, when you had to tell your mom you got suspended for getting in a fight in high school, the same look you had when you were caught. It was clear to him that you didn’t want him to see that part of you, whatever it was.

“I mean, she’s always been pretty mysterious, hasn’t she?” Minnie said “It takes a while to figure her out, you’ll get there.”

“I think I’m close enough, aren’t I?” His answer was smooth, almost annoying you. He playfully squeezed your knee and you wished he hadn't done it, because your old friend was now looking at you with stars in her eyes full of excitement. It had been almost four years since you had a proper talk with Minnie, but despite the fact that little to nothing happened between you and the man next to you, you were sure she was convinced you were on a date right now. 

And perhaps it was not just his hand on your knee, maybe it was the fond look on his eyes too, seeking complicity in his jokes, but you were not going to go down that route tonight. You scoffed. “Not one bit.” You said, out of bitterness, because Yoongi knew you as well as your brother, perhaps his only flaws were being dumb and blind, but that came with being a man anyway. 

For your own good, the lights of the room flickered twice, meaning that the movie was about to start soon. “That means I should leave you alone, right?” Minnie sighed,  “But it’s really nice to see you here after so long, sweetheart.” 

You nodded, offering her a soft smile, but you couldn’t help but feel guilty. It was in Minnie’s nature to always offer love and kindness to everyone, but it was hard to hold her gaze when she called you by that name, knowing that you didn’t deserve it. 

 “It’s nice to see you, too.” Was all you could say, despite it being a lie. 

In another universe you would’ve loved to see your old friend and feel something bigger than nostalgia, but you couldn’t, you felt obligated to reject the feeling. You couldn’t live in the fantasy of what could have been. 

She was about to turn around, but before she could do it, she raised one of her fingers, like she just remembered something. “By the way… Are you still doing theater?” She inquired.

You shrugged, shaking your head “Ummm… Not really…”

She pouted, disappointed. “That’s a shame, because… I don’t know, it’s crazy that I’m seeing you tonight. I know of someone who’s looking for someone just like you, if you were interested.” Her words lingered in the air, but the lights flickered again.  “But I’m guessing I should keep that for after the movie… And Yoongi!” She exclaimed, pointing at him “I’m glad that you finally stopped dating dumb girls, my friend right there was very popular around here. You’re very lucky.”

You almost gasped, immediately turning your head to Yoongi, who just scoffed amused. Before you could even breathe, your friend turned around exactly when the lights went off, starting the movie right away.

You held your breath for what felt to be an eternity, but in the darkness you saw a smirk tugging from Yoongi’s lips, being followed by an outburst of laughter. The sound of his quiet laugh made you freeze in your place, was he laughing at you?

You opened your mouth, trying to find an explanation for your friend’s comment, but he shook his head as if he was stopping you, clearly entertained by the shocking look on your face. “Oh, save it for later.” He whispered, brushing it off. 

You pressed your lips together, sinking in your seat as you observed him focusing on the movie, and you were supposed to do the same, but you couldn’t think of anything else. The only thing you could hope for was that he couldn’t see how red your face was, because you sure as hell could feel it. 

God, you wanted to die, but whoever put you through this whole thing knew that death could only be seen as kindness. 

How come that after years of quitting theater you were still being this dramatic? You didn’t know, but tonight death felt like a greater destiny than the embarrassment you felt. 

In situations like these, you remembered two specific times during the past seven years when you thought you got over Yoongi, but then you realized you failed miserably.

You evoked the memory of those two situations for a special reason, to teach you a lesson: you must not continue to engage with the man sitting next to you. There were three reasons for you to learn from this lesson, because otherwise:

It would hurt your mind. 

It would hurt your heart.

It would hurt your soul.

These seemed three perfectly logical reasons to learn the lesson, but you were never the best student. 

The first memory that always came to mind was the first time Yoongi and Simon came back home for Christmas after going to college. It had been six months since you decided to convince yourself that the last two years you spent being in love with him were just a fever, but when Yoongi walked in the room and you saw that he got a new haircut and pierced his ears, you thought that the plan “get over my brother’s best friend” would not work at all, at least not now. Maybe you could try the following year.

(Spoiler: the following year did not work either.)

The second time was last summer, a few months ago, when both of them came back for summer break and Yoongi invited you to some pool party. You were supposed to go with Simon, but at the last minute he ended up getting sick and told you two to go alone. There was a time when you believed that Simon worked as some kind of barrier between you and Yoongi, hanging out with them meant that now you were a group of three, it reminded you that the only reason you kept seeing Yoongi was because he was Simon’s best friend, nothing else. And when you and Yoongi were alone, well… It was different.

That night none of you were planning to get into the pool, it was a strange house full of strange people and it almost felt like you were crashing the party. You were wearing a black summer dress and Yoongi was wearing jeans, you only went for free alcohol and to check if someone had any weed, you thought you were safe. Of course every little effort you made trying not to think that way about him anymore was ruined when decided to take off his shirt, grab you by your hips and jump in the pool, dragging you with him. 

Needless to say, you were furious.  The only thought that crossed your mind was that neither of you had a change of clothes, but he didn’t care. When you got your head out of the water, you saw him laughing. 

You gasped “Fuck you!” You punched his arm, not caring that everyone around you was observing you, laughing because he did something cute.

He kept laughing “I’m sorry, you looked hot!” He defended himself, grabbing your arms to pull you closer under the water. 

“What!?” You shouted, fighting against his hold but wondering if you heard that right. 

“You looked like you needed a dip!” He clarified, shouting back. His lips stretched widely, showing you a white smile. You wished you could punch that cheeky expression off his face, but you were too busy trying not to sink into the water as he firmly gripped your waist, crashing your body against his bare chest. 

“You idiot, I can’t swim!” You whined, gripping his shoulders so you wouldn’t drown. 

He snickered, hugging you closer. “It’s fine, Pinky, I wouldn’t let you die in front of all these people.”

The moment you realized you had not gotten over Yoongi was not then, it was not when he took off his shirt either, and it was not when you saw him running his fingers through his wet hair, nor when you saw the drops of water dripping down his wide back, no. Not even when he wrapped his strong arms around your body or when he gripped your hips and lifted you up to seat you on the edge of the pool. You realized that you were still in love with Yoongi when he sat next to you, and when he realized that you were not playing, that you were really angry, he cupped your face in his hands and kissed your forehead, whispering “I’m sorry.” 

The heart clenching memory of the look on his face, the sound of his voice and the touch of his lips against your skin were enough to screw you up, but not enough to make you learn the lesson.

Now, sitting next to him, you began to think that you were finally losing your mind when you tried to focus on the movie for the first ten minutes, and then for the next thirty minutes, and the next fifty, but when an hour passed you found out, or you just remembered, that it was useless to focus on something else when Yoongi was by your side. 

You often forgot how impossible it was for you to ignore Yoongi’s presence, even in the most packed and loudest rooms, but the confirmation that you finally drove yourself insane was when you noticed that you just couldn’t ignore his arm laying next to yours in the shared armrest, or your hands touching when you reached to grab popcorn, and you certainly couldn’t ignore his fingers when they reached to play with the fabric of the hem of your sleeve. 

You carefully looked down to the arm rest, observing his fingers tugging the tiny piece of ruffle fabric at the end of your sleeve. He wasn’t trying to get your attention or to annoy you, it was something almost unconscious, a small gesture, very easy to miss, but it was enough for you to stop breathing for a moment. Now, it was impossible to ignore the warmth of his fingers slightly grazing over your wrist. 

You sighed deeply, feeling the failure sinking in your bones once again. The line between what you were supposed to feel and what you were actually feeling was always blurry, but this time seemed to be completely erased, and once again, you were the one to blame for thinking that this time seeing Yoongi could be any different. 

You were screwed up again. 

You could say you enjoyed the last part of the movie, at least the parts where you were zoning out enough to quiet your mind, but when the lights were turned on you remembered that your brain hated you.

Your eyes swept the place, observing the people around you clapping as the credits rolled down. 

“So?” His voice sneaked into the hustle and bustle of your head, making you turn to look at him, but your eyes focused on the almost empty bucket of popcorn on his lap. “Do you like it? I’ve never seen Home Alone on a big screen.”

You grabbed a handful of popcorn from the very bottom of the bucket. “I’ve seen it plenty of times on a big screen.” You said, stuffing your mouth with the food so you wouldn’t answer any of the questions you knew he was about to make, but the second those words left your mouth you realized you gave yourself away.

“Yeah, I imagine.” He scoffed, signaling with his head towards the empty seat where Minnie was sitting a few seconds ago. You were grateful that she disappeared the moment the movie ended so she wouldn’t hear this conversation. “I heard some of it just now.” You huffed, pretending to be tired of him and chewing long enough to prevent yourself from talking. “Is there anything else I should know? Apart from the fact that you have a secret twin who takes theater classes and has friends who are actually nice?”

The only thing that could come out of your mouth was something rude. “Oh, shut up.” You spat, looking at anything else except his face. 

Yoongi shifted on his seat with a shameless smirk decorating his face, getting closer to you. “Don’t! Don’t shut me up.” He laughed, casually grabbing your face between his fingers so you wouldn’t run away from his gaze. “I want to know all about that, like, were you really talking shit about me during high school?”

You frowned, remembering what Minnie said about Yoongi dating dumb girls. Of all the conclusions he could have drawn from that, was that the one he came up with?”

“I wasn’t… talking shit about you.” You wanted to explain “Have you considered that I was just really into gossiping?”

He snorted, “It’s the same thing.” 

“It’s not.” You denied. 

“So you were gossiping about me?” He asked “About the girls I dated?”

“C’mon, what about it?” You tried to dismiss as quickly as possible “I was like fourteen, and in my defense, you never had good taste in girls.” 

Yoongi narrowed his eyes, a bit offended “Why? You really think the girls I dated were dumb?” You bit your bottom lip, trying to suppress a laugh. “That’s not very feminist of you.”

You rolled your eyes “Oh shut up, what do you know about feminism?” You said. “Those were just… facts.”

“Yeah, I’m sure of that.” He scoffed “What I’m not so sure about is that thing your friend said… That I’m really lucky to be with you.” 

“Ignore her.” You tried to cut him, looking away so he wouldn’t notice how embarrassed you were.

“No, why?” He smiled, poking fun at you. “She said you were really popular, but I don’t get it. I don’t know a man who could stand your behavior for more than two hours. Besides me, of course.”

You could be offended by that, but it was the truth. 

“Well, they couldn't,” You said, crossing your arms over your chest. “They just wanted me for my talent.”

“Let me doubt that.” He said “If you were so good, why did you never tell me?”

“Well, it was a secret” You confessed, there was no point in hiding now. “I didn’t want anyone to know, people would think it was dumb.” 

“And when did you care about what other people think?”

You sighed. All the time, you wanted to say, but you kept that for yourself. 

“I just... wanted it for myself, no one had to know.” You explained.

Yoongi waited a few seconds for you to say something else, but you weren’t willing to pour your heart to him just yet. Yes, when you found The Alley you discovered a part of yourself that was completely unique, but that didn’t mean you wanted to share it. It was for you only, and you were happy with that. 

“Well, Pinky.” He sighed, squeezing your knee like he always did. “Even if it was a secret… I’m telling you, you were pretty obvious.” 

“What do you mean?” You frowned, confused

 “I mean, you always liked High School Musical a little bit too much.” He explained as a mocking smirk tugged from the corners of his lips. “At first I thought it was just Zac Efron, but now it makes sense.”

You nudged his shoulder before the frown in your face disappeared into laughter. “High School Musical is the best movie ever, to be obsessed with it was just logical.” You tried to excuse yourself “That and, of course, Zac Efron.”

“I never thought you would have a thing for basketball players.” He muttered, trying to play nonchalant as his eyes wandered towards the corner of the room, circling back to your gaze. You realized he was expecting an answer for that. 

“Kind of.” You waved off, pretending to be laid back about it. “But only the ones who have this internal struggle about their father’s plans for their future and their unusual passion for musical comedy.”

He let out an amused snort. “Very specific, what a shame.”

You stared at him for a second, wondering what game he was trying to play now. 

You tried so hard to keep your face straight, to try to show him that you weren’t phased by any of his stupid jokes. You wanted to remind him that you weren’t like any of those girls who were charmed just by the sight of his eyes, you weren’t like those girls he stopped in the hallways just to make them giggle when you were in high school, you wanted to make clear that you were different — except that, of course, you weren’t. The moment he displayed that specific smirk, you committed the unforgivable crime of blushing. 

But he was quick to dismiss it, he always was. 

And you were obligated to forget about it. 

“So? Why did you leave it?” He inquired, “Were you that bad?” He ignored that the room was now almost empty. Maybe in another situation you would’ve taken advantage of that and told him it was time to go to avoid telling the truth, but why hide now? Maybe telling the truth wasn’t so bad. 

You smirked, rolling your eyes. “I was the best one in my group, you don’t even know.” 

“Yeah?” He moved closer to you with big eyes, showing you how curious he was.

“Of course, do you have any doubts?” 

“Well, yes, a few.” He teased “I’d have to see it for myself.”

“Sure, when they clear the stage I’ll do a demonstration just for you.” You joked, successfully making him laugh. 

“That would be an amazing way to avoid my question.” He pointed.

You felt your chest getting lighter, and if that hinted you that it meant something dangerous, you ignored it. 

“I wasn’t doing that.” You tried to defend yourself. 

“You do that all the time.” He reminded you, and he was right. You bit back a smile, darting him a look for exposing you. 

“Fine, then. I’ll be honest.” You surrendered, maybe Yoongi could convince you to jump off a cliff if he looked at you with those eyes. “I left it when I was finishing high school, I was about to leave for college and… I had to grow up, you know? I grew too attached to this place but I knew I couldn’t cling onto these things forever.”

“Can’t you?” He questioned “Didn’t you like to do it?”

“I mean, yes, but-”

“Then, why drop it?” He interrupted.

You breathed in, wishing that you could find the words to say it in a way that made sense, because you weren’t sure what was right or wrong anymore. 

“Maybe I was on an ego trip back then, I don’t know.” You admitted. “I thought I was genuinely good but I couldn’t do anything about it, like I was stuck here. I had to let it go, for me it’s all or nothing.”

Perhaps you weren’t talking only about theater now. Perhaps you were talking about everything, perhaps you were talking about him. And it was a bit harsh, but it was the truth, or what you decided to be the truth.  Yoongi took one hard look at you, as if he was expecting you to realize how dumb that sounded, but you already knew that, otherwise you wouldn’t be there right now, at home before Christmas because you dropped out of college. You didn’t even know if when you left for college that excuse made sense, you just knew that you were bitter and angry and if you couldn't follow your dreams, you didn’t want them at all. And if you couldn’t be with Yoongi, you couldn’t see him at all. 

You ripped the bandaid off, but three years later it exploded in your face.

“All or nothing?” He repeated, but you just nodded. “But did you try first? Because as far as I know you didn’t.”

You bitterly laughed,“Yeah, right” You got up from your seat, ready to leave “And who would’ve taken me seriously?”

He got up with you, blocking the way to stop you from getting out from the sea of chairs just yet. You raised your chin, finding his eyes. “I would have.” He casually mumbled, but his words echoed in your head, clenching your heart. 

You tried to search in your brain for something snarky to say, but you froze under his gaze. “And If I wouldn’t have…” He continued “If I were a complete prick who doesn’t care about you, you should’ve done it anyway. Even if your mom puts on a bad face.”

You wanted to stop him, to shut him up. But he was right, even if you didn’t need to hear that tonight. You loved your mom and you knew she didn’t expect anything from you but to be happy, she was just worried, you knew that, but you hated that she had to see you trip with your own decisions. 

“Have you ever tried to be wrong?” You asked him, pushing his chest with your palms. “Like, just once?” Walking past him, hearing his laugh behind you followed by his quick steps running after you. 

“Don’t be mad ‘cause I’m right.” He teased. 

“I’m not mad.” You said, walking towards the entrance, hearing music coming from the other room. “Just annoyed that you had to go to college and left me here making dumb decisions.” 

He smiled, happy that you decided to show a glimpse of love for him. “Do I need to remind you that you’re just twenty one and your life is not over?”

“Yes, maybe.” You said “Several times a day, please.”

You stood in the hall, attempting to put your coat back on, but he stopped you, stealing the piece of clothing away from you. “What are you doing?” He asked, smiling. “Don’t you know that we have to dance now?”

You widely opened your eyes, almost completely forgetting that. When you bought the tickets for movie nights, you were also invited to the afterparty that was held right after the movie ended, hence the loud music playing in the next room, the biggest one of the place. You didn’t think Yoongi would be interested in staying. 

“Do you want to dance?” You checked first. You didn’t know if you were interested in staying either. 

“C’mon, I have plenty of experience from frat parties.” He bragged, taking a few steps back towards the room where the music came from. 

You shook your head. “This isn’t like those parties you went to with Simon where they play Shape Of You every three songs” 

“Why would it be different?” He said, slightly offended. Yoongi kinda liked Shape Of You…  

You grabbed his hand, dragging him into the next room as you asked him something very important, “Yoongi, do you know who The Strokes are?”

After entering the room, Yoongi disappeared for a few moments to leave your coats in the cloakroom of the place, leaving you alone to collect your thoughts once again. When you first entered the place to watch the movie you couldn’t wait to leave, and now you were in a dark room under the red lights, feeling excited at the idea of dancing like you were a teenager again. It was time for you to understand that your life was already a mess, nothing was going to change if you stayed at The Alley dancing just for tonight.

When Yoongi came back you were quick to drag him towards the center of the dancefloor, right when the first chords of Last Nite by the Strokes began to resonate in the room, you couldn’t help but feel a rush of happiness running down your body. Yoongi looked at you funny, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows. He didn’t expect that you, of all people, would be excited to dance. 

It turned out that Yoongi didn’t live under a rock, he did know who The Strokes were, but barely. You knew that he always preferred hip hop and rap, but the lack of interest he had for other genres surprised you. “I don’t know the song!” He shouted over the music 

“What about it?” You said, grabbing his hands to pull him closer. “You must dance anyway, or they’ll kick you out!”

The look of terror in Yoongi’s eyes made you laugh, but you didn’t pity him, he was the one who wanted to dance in the first place, even when both of you knew that he wasn’t the kind of person who dance at parties, he wasn’t the kind of person who danced at all. 

“How!?” He asked, ignoring the mass of people jumping around him. 

“Just do what I do!” You exclaimed, shaking your head side to side to the rhythm, making the strands of your hair hit your face, and his face too. Yoongi laughed, knowing then that if he didn’t dance he would look like an absolute loser. He was still hesitant to follow you, but when you began to jump, he slowly began to jump too, trying hard to shake his head the same way you were doing as he felt his ribcage shake from his laughter. 

You nodded your head, happily tapping your feet against the ground to the loud rhythm of the drums “Oh, baby I feel so down, oh, it turn’ me off” You sang to him, but he shook his head, disappointed that he didn’t know the lyrics and couldn’t sing the words back to you, but you didn’t care, you were happy enough watching him trying to copy your moves. 

You grabbed his hands, perhaps taking advantage of the situation to tangle his fingers with you, opening your arms with your hands still connected to his, shortening the distance. “I’m not a good dancer either.” You said, maybe way too close to his face. 

Yoongi scrunched his nose, giving you a half twirl to make your back crush against his chest, trapping you between his arms. “Are you saying I’m not a good dancer?” You felt his lips brushing against your cheek, making you shiver. 

You closed your eyes shut, trying to breathe in. “Not all!” You yelled, spinning out of his arms. “But no one’s watching.”

He took the liberty to slide his hands down your torso, gripping your waist and pulling you close to his body. “You are watching.” He said, like he was reminding you. 

“Then, impress me.” 

You were thankful that the sound of the music drowned the sound of your heart, who was threatening to run away from your chest in the exact moment he smiled at you, accepting the challenge. 

You couldn’t count the amount of times Yoongi made you spin in the room, like you were dancing a waltz, before you realized that neither of you were wearing clothes made for dancing, you were wearing a black long sleeve shirt and Yoongi was wearing that ridiculous white dress shirt that made him look like he came out of one of your dreams when he rolled up his sleeves.  As one song ended and another one started, he began to stop caring if he didn’t know the lyrics, it was fine as long as he followed you, but when your hands began to felt sweaty and you felt like you needed air, you decided it was time to leave, but not before you finished dancing Song 2 by Blur, because what other chance would you have to dance Song 2 by Blur with Yoongi? And what other chance would you have to watch him copy every move you made like you were an expert at dancing? And what other chance would you have to be alone with him without feeling like your heart was sinking? It was like the loud music didn’t allow you to feel anything else but joy, or maybe you were already high from all the people smoking weed around you, either way, you were happy. 

You didn’t want to began feeling overwhelmed, the most exciting thing that happened today, before Yoongi, was finding out that your mom’s boyfriend gave her a teddy bear that sang All I Want For Christmas Is You by Mariah Carey when you pressed its paw, you could blame —or just thank him— for taking you out of your house. Your heart didn’t feel as heavy as it did at the beginning of the night, but you knew it was time to leave. 

As he waited at the door, you decided to look for your coats. There was a line of people waiting to leave theirs, when you were just trying to leave the place. You expected to get in line, wait a maximum of five minutes and then leave, but right at the end of the line you found, of course, Minnie, because it couldn’t be any other way. 

She was alone, holding two purses and a big puffer jacket that was probably not hers. As soon as you stood behind her, she turned around, clearly she wasn’t expecting to see you again. “Oh, hi again!” She greeted you with the same big white smile you saw earlier tonight. “I had to leave when the movie ended, but I wanted to talk to you, where’s your boyfriend?”

You sighed, not wanting to remember what she said to Yoongi. “He’s not my boyfriend, Minnie.” You said. “He’s just… Yoongi.”

“Just Yoongi, huh?” She raised her eyebrows, pursing her lips. “What are you doing on a date with Just Yoongi?”

“It’s not a date, he just invited me to watch the movie.” You tried to explain, but she wasn’t convinced. 

“Sounds like a date to me.” She giggled, completely ignoring what you said. “I remember when you were like fifteen and cried because he kissed some ugly girl at the New Year’s party, and now you’re on a date!” 

You shook your head, you didn't dare to acknowledge what she said. The memory of that night made you cringe, you remembered running to Minnie and telling everything about it while sobbing like somebody just died. She hugged you and told you that she was sure the girl was super ugly, which wasn’t the truth at all, but it was the version she decided to keep. 

“But it’s not a date.” You reminded her.

“If you say so…” She winked at you, taking a step forward to advance in the line. “But anyway! Weren’t you still in college?” 

Perhapsit was the rush of the dopamine in your body, or the fact that she spoke to you as if not a day had passed since the last time she saw you, but you told her the truth. 

“Well, I’m supposed to be in college.” You said, “But I dropped out recently.” 

“Oh, thank God.” She suddenly let out, almost by accident. You looked at her, amused that she dared to say that. “I mean, don’t get me wrong!” She rushed to say “It’s just, you know, it was about time for you to realize.” 

You smiled, feeling your chest getting warm. When you told people you dropped out of college, most of the time they looked worried, like you made a mistake, but Minnie looked relieved, and that made you feel like it wasn’t such a horrible decision. 

“I know, don’t remind me.” You huffed, looking at your feet. 

“I can't help but do it.” She said, crossing her arms over her chest, thinking “I always thought I was going to see you on a big screen someday, I was disappointed when you left for college.”

How cheesy, you wanted to say, but you couldn’t, not when she was the one who believed in you in ways you never did. 

“Well, I’m out of there now.” You just said. 

“So, if you’re not in college and you’re not doing theater, what are you doing?”

You scoffed, feeling like you just got scolded “Rotting in bed until Christmas, I guess.”

“Okay, I can respect that, but what about after the holidays?” She continued to ask. 

You shrugged, “I have to figure that out yet.”

“So… About what I was telling you before the movie started…”

“Yeah, I mean, about that…” You wanted to interrupt her, but she was quick to cut your sentence.

“Yeah, I know what you’re gonna say, you’re out the theater stuff too, I know.” She said, waving her hands in front of your face so you wouldn’t keep talking. “But I’ve got this friend in the city who’s a director, he is working on this project and is looking for a main character, I don’t know, for some reason it reminded me of you. And now you’re here, so it has to mean something, right?”

You furrowed your eyebrows “Why would it remind you of?” You inquired. “We haven’t seen each other in years.”

“Crazy, isn’t it?” She laughed, “He pitched to me, it’s some gothic dramatic love story, he wanted to know if I knew of someone.”

Was this some kind of joke? You, realizing that you were never happy in college, coming back home, coming back to the theater where you used to dream to step on a stage someday, or Yoongi telling you all that stuff about not even trying to make your dreams come true, and now this? Something inside you moved, you didn’t know what, but you did know why you were home after all. You told Yoongi about this in your garage the other day, you dropped out of college for a reason, you weren’t built to have a nine to five job, but you also weren’t sure what is what you wanted.

You looked at Minnie like you were sorry to turn down her proposal “Minnie, I haven’t been on a play in years.” You told her, already anticipating the rejection of her offer.

“I know that, but I’ve always trusted your talent, otherwise I wouldn’t be talking about this.” She replied “Look, I’m not asking you to say yes right now, but if you want to know more you can give me your new number.” You kept quiet for a few seconds. Not knowing what to say, you began to nervously laugh, that sounded crazy to you. “C’mon, don’t laugh! If it's of any use, it's a very well paid job.”

Now you began to laugh for real. “What do you mean it's a very well paid job?” You asked, not believing her for one second. Most plays you used to be part of during your high school days never left a dime. 

“It is!” She insisted “You don’t know my friend, he has rich parents, he doesn't do things for the love of art. I mean, he likes theater, but he also likes money.”

Well, that could’ve made you change your mind right away a four years ago, but still, a few hours ago you came to this place counting the seconds to leave, now you were debating if you should accept a job offer. You shook your head, realizing that the line moved far enough, it was Minnie’s turn to leave her coat. 

She took a few seconds and then it was your turn. You quickly asked for Yoongi’s jacket and your coat and when you turned around, Minnie was still there, not willing to give up. 

“What do I have to do to convince you to at least give me your new number?” She pleaded, looking for something in her mini bag. You observed her pulling a lighter and a joint and putting it between her lips to light it up. 

“What are you willing to do?” You joked, or not. 

“What do you have in mind?” Well, she knew you. 

“I have an idea…” You insinuated, pointing at the joint. 

She let out a cloud of smoke out of her mouth, suddenly frowning. “Really?” She said, trying not to sound annoyed, you nodded your head several times, almost excited.  “You can’t be asking for the whole joint.”

“But I am.”

Minnie shook her head in denial. “I can let you smoke it once, I’m not giving it to you.” She offered instead, but you wanted to make it worth it. If you were going to even consider accepting the job, if you were going to even think about something like theater again, you wanted at least something in return. 

“I’m giving you half my number, then.” You said “Try to guess the other half.” 

She narrowed her eyes, hesitating. Your old friend knew that you weren’t joking at all, and for some reason she really wanted you to consider her offer. You knew you won when she rolled her eyes, giving in. “You never stopped being a little bitch, have you?” She hissed, reluctantly handed you the joint. You happily accepted, taking a long drag before it went out. Minnie sighed, sadly watching her perfectly rolled joint in the hands of someone else. “So? Your new number?”

A devilish smirk appeared in your face as you began to walk backwards, taking long steps towards the entrance as you enjoyed the confused expression on Minnie’s face. “I never changed my number.” You confessed. 

Minnie’s mouth hung open in disbelief, but she made sure that the last thing you saw from her that night was her middle finger up, directed towards you. 

It’s been a long time since you outright refused to feel something remotely close to nostalgia, to live evoking memories, to think that a fleeting good moment could make up for all the bad ones, but it was impossible not to. Instead, you were condemned to live wondering what it would be like to come back home someday and not feel this way, to come to The Alley and not feel like you left a part of you there, to look at Yoongi and not feel like you were going to miss him all your life. 

And tonight wasn’t an exception, because when you came back to Yoongi and he offered what seemed to be the warmest smile in the coldest of winters, you knew it might haunt you forever. 

But maybe, just for tonight, you didn’t care. 

“Why are you making that face?” Yoongi asked, raising a brow as he grabbed his jacket from your hands. 

“What face?” You asked back, innocently keeping your hands behind your back.

He opened his mouth to explain what he meant, but then shut it again, staying silent for a minute as he inspected your face. “Did you just… smoke weed?” He laughed, probably already smelling it. 

A smile appeared on your face as you showed him your right hand. Yoongi observed the joint between your thumb and index finger, and wondering where you got that, he tried to take it from your hands. 

You took a step back, moving your arm away from him so he wouldn’t steal it. “What? Is this not legal?” You chuckled.

“Who gave you that?” He asked, grabbing your wrist, but you raised your arm higher. 

“Are you interrogating me?” You kept teasing him, fighting his hold. “I’m sorry Mr. Min, but I’m not a snitch.” 

Yoongi let go of your wrist, quickly giving up. “Are you not sharing?” He asked, a little disappointed. 

“I don’t know.” You pointed your finger at your chin, pretending to think about it “Are you allowed?” 

You walked past him, heading towards the entrance to exit the place. “You’re so annoying.” You heard him say, already knowing he was following you.

Both of you knew that the night was coming to an end, as soon as you stepped foot on the street you could smell the dew on the grass and hear how loud were your footsteps on the empty street. You looked at him through your lashes, observing him lighting up the joint between your lips as with a lighter he found in his pockets. You held the smoke inside your mouth for a few seconds before blowing it on his face, but he just laughed, stealing from your lips. 

You wondered what else you could do to make him stay a bit longer. 

He crossed the desolate street, grabbing your hand to drag you into the poorly illuminated park. It was really cold and you could see your cold breath in the air. Everyone else in the world seemed to agree that it was time to sleep, but you didn’t dare to complain as he decided to take the long way home. 

“How do you know when you’re high?” He curiously asked, eyes locking up with yours as he took another draw. 

It was easy for you to tell, you could get high with only one puff. “I have this thing, I test if my teeth are heavy.” You told him, expecting him to understand right away. 

He laughed, confused. “What do you mean?” 

“Look, if you clench your jaw you can tell that your teeth touch each other.” You explained. Yoongi stopped dead in his tracks, standing in front of you to test it himself. “I know that I’m high when my top teeth are feeling heavy.”

Yoongi snorted, keeping his mouth closed to test it himself. “I don’t know if mine are heavy.” He said “Are yours?”

You already knew you’re high, but you tested it regardless. Closing your mouth, you pressed your teeth together to know “Yes, they are.” You laughed, feeling dizzy. “How do you know?”

It wasn’t the first time you saw Yoongi high, you remembered that time, you were woken up at three in the morning when your brother dragged him into your house after their graduation party because he smoked too much, and Yoongi’s mom couldn’t find out that her son almost died because he didn't know how to use a bong. 

It was the first time that he made Simon look like the responsible friend. Yoongi was seeing shadows before leaving the party and when he arrived at your home was calmer, but still high. He was strangely afraid of going upstairs, so the three of you stayed in the living room watching very low quality episodes of Pinky and The Brain on YouTube. Simon let you stay under the condition of not telling your mom about Yoongi having a bad trip, so you did. The memory of Yoongi laughing at the screen and eating the cake your mom bought to celebrate was still very engraved in your mind.

This version was very different. Yoongi’s hooded eyes were crystallized and there was an awkward smile plastered on his face that wasn’t going away. You could tell he was high in the way he was walking, and especially in the way he was still holding your hand.

The silence lingered in the air for a second. He pressed his lips together, scanning your face. “I know I’m high when it’s hard for me to tell if I’m looking at one thing or the whole picture.” He tried to explain “Like, I can’t focus on more than one thing at once.”

Somehow, you understood. “What are you looking at right now?”

In that moment, Yoongi seemed to be asking himself that very same question in his head, but he already knew the answer. 

 “Your mouth.” He replied innocently.

Someone in the very back of your mind started to wave a big red flag, but on the surface, where an intoxicated version of yourself was laying under the moonlight, you could only laugh. 

“Isn’t it a bit distracting?” You asked him, pulling him forward so he would start walking towards the exit of the park. 

“Yes, very.” he guaranteed “But I don’t mind.”

Yoongi followed you out of the park, and in a team of two you remembered the way to your home. It was like both of your brains had turned off, the conversation didn’t have to mean anything, you didn’t have to wonder why he was there with you at all. 

The clock on your phone said that it was three in the morning, but in your mind time had stopped forever, or at least until next morning. When you turned the corner and reached the end of the street, you knew it was time to say goodbye. But what if you didn’t want to?

You struggled to find your keys, maybe because you were high or maybe because you just didn’t want to remember where the keys were. And when you had to open the door, you leaned against the door frame to say your last words. 

You looked at him with hooded eyes, his pink lips were slightly parted, like they were about to say something but they didn’t. In the haze of the moment you thought it looked just like an invitation to kiss him, but of course you wouldn’t. Of course you couldn’t. 

What you could do, instead, was prevent him from leaving, at least for a while. Was that allowed? You weren’t in your right mind to answer that question. 

You sighed, sleepy, touching the collar of his shirt. “I can’t let you go home like this.” You let out, faster than you could think. 

Yoongi scrunched his nose. “It’s fine, it’s just a few blocks away.” He waved off your concern, but his feet were dug deeply on the wood floor of your porch. 

“It’s not a few blocks away.” You argued “You live like ten blocks away, and you’re still high…”

“I can manage.” He smirked, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear like it was nothing. 

“C’mon, you can stay.” You offered. “My bed is big enough for both of us.”

Your voice came as a whisper, but your words are clearly heard by Yoongi. He scoffed, causing you to start laughing “I didn’t mean that.” You blurted out. trying to correct yourself, but he was already laughing at you. 

“What did you mean?” He was curious. 

You lightly punched his shoulder. “I meant that… You can stay.” You repeated “Besides… There’s still Simon’s old clothes you can wear to sleep.” 

He raised his eyebrows, getting closer to your face, or not, you weren’t sure. 

“What would your mom say?” He mumbled, still in denial. 

“What?” You chuckled “I’ll tell her the truth. I’ll just say you were too drunk to come back home.”

“That’s not the truth.” He said, booping your nose, but you could barely feel the coldness of his touch. 

“Do I really have to tell her that we were high?” You wondered, booping his nose back. 

Yoongi smiled, knowing you were right. “I guess not.” He admitted. 

“So?” You dared to insist.

“I’ll stay…” He said, putting a finger up. “Under one condition…”

“You want me to tuck you in bed?” You said, laughing at your own joke like it was the funniest thing you had ever said. 

Yoongi snorted, covering your mouth with his hand so you wouldn’t keep making loud noises. “No, not that.” He shook his head. “You have to make me breakfast.”

You bit the palm of his hand, making him pull away with a groan. “Is that what your life is worth?” You teased “Breakfast?”

“I’m not gonna die walking ten blocks.”

“What if you enter a bad trip?” You joked “The streets are scary when it’s dark.”

“C’mon, don’t talk about bad trips.” He closed his eyes shut, like he was trying to picture flowers and kittens so he wouldn’t think of something bad. 

“God, Yoongi. Are you staying or not?” 

He sighed, opening his eyes to display his characteristic gummy smile. “Fine Pinky.” He gave in, “Show me how big your bed is.” 

taglist: @kingofbodyrolls @tea4sykes @overtherainbow35 @namin13 @p34rluv @moonchild1 @oukya @yoongisoftface @namgihours @honsoolgloss @idkjustlovingbts @loviyunki @yoongisducky @bangtansmauyeondan @tarahardcore @wobblewobble822 @secfir @ot72025 @baechugff @hopeefulchick @heroinanne @mortal-body-timelesssoul @lizzm98 @hiii-priestess @wii-wii @jungkookies1002 @busanbby-jjk @acquiescence804

Who else fell in love with these adorable boys instantly?🥺🥰

Mine - Part 3

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

Kisame x Reader

Kidnapping, yandere behavior

2.5k

Just. Keep. Running.

With a quiet groan, you felt yourself slowly returning to the realm of the conscious. Your head spun miserably, leaving you feeling like you might fly off into the sky at any moment from where you were sprawled. Foggy eyes blinked several times, fighting to feed your brain information as to what just happened. That was not the ceiling of your house.

"Good, you're finally awake. I was beginning to think that apothecary got the dosage wrong," a familiar, raspy voice mused from your right.

Your gaze shifted, following the sound. Kisame. Your heart lurched into your throat as you abruptly sat up, struggling to put distance between your body and his. Memories began slowly leaking back into your head. The door. Your tea. He was in your house. And this -- this was not your house. The room continued to spin out of control, sending you teetering precariously from where you sat. Your head still felt clouded from whatever had knocked you out. "Kisa--"

"Easy, don't move around so fast." A large hand settled firmly on your shoulder to keep you from swaying into anything while the other grabbed a glass of water and held it out to you. "Here."

You laced your fingers into the bedding below you in an effort to regain some stability, eyeing the glass in his hand suspiciously. Scenarios began rapidly playing out in your head as you tried to figure out what to do next. The dry, cottony feeling wrapped around your tongue made that glass of water seem extremely palatable despite your concerns as to what else might be in it. Putting aside your reservations for the moment, you reached a shaky hand out and grasped it before more or less inhaling its contents in thirsty gulps. That same massive paw took the container from you once it was empty. With another quiet groan, you rubbed the heel of your hand against your eye in an effort to dull the headache pulsing in your skull. A knot began forming in your throat as the grim reality of your current situation began shifting into focus. You were in some kind of cabin with no recollection of how you arrived and had definitely been drugged. The lack of human sound outside indicated that you were likely in the middle of the woods somewhere. The sunlight streaming in from the window behind you was crisp and yellow, which meant it was probably morning. Gritting your teeth, you finally met the giant's gaze. Kisame no longer looked the same to you. Your heart began beating wildly in your throat, forming itself into a thick mass that was difficult to swallow.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" He inquired incredulously, almost looking hurt.

"You kidnapped me, Kisame. You broke into my house and--" Your voice strained with anger as you struggled to keep your tone reasonable, hoping that maybe you could talk him into letting you go if you kept a level head. Unfortunately, though, you were failing miserably at maintaining a poker face. There was no hiding the fact that you were angry and frightened. Tears stung at the corners of your eyes before you could do anything to try to hold them back and left hot streaks down your cheeks as you stared up into Kisame's confusion-twisted face.

His genuine shock over your use of that particular word was worrisome. "What was I supposed to do? I couldn't leave you there ‐‐ you were miserable."

"Did it ever occur to you that maybe you should have asked me how I felt about it instead of drugging me and dragging me to some cabin in the middle of nowhere?!" Your voice cracked, face contorting and chin quivering as the weight of your next revelation fell upon your head like a meteor. Kisame was convinced that he had rescued you. "I don't even know where we are," you choked out. So much for your attempt at sounding reasonable and trying to logic your way out of this mess. The tension and rage knotted in your throat was so intense that the strain of talking was threatening to make you all out cry.

Kisame shifted the chittering, wrapped sword on his back as he studied you with furrowed brows, struggling to understand why the cheerful, friendly expression that usually greeted him in the shop was missing and had been replaced by what stared back at him now. Those eyes -- you were looking up at him like he was some kind of monster. "You're still so pretty, even when you cry," he murmured to himself, gently trailing a thumb through the line of tears on your quivering cheek. "It doesn't really matter where we are, because we won't be staying here for long. We're nowhere near your old village," he stated while letting his arm fall to his side and standing to his full, frightfully intimidating height when you shied away from his touch. "You wouldn't have listened even if I had tried to talk you into leaving with me."

"Kisame, please--" you stared up at him, wavering rapidly between anger and despair, "--take me back home. I won't say anything about this. I'll forget all about it. I--"

Kisame leered down at you, hesitating to touch you again after you had just recoiled from him even though all he wanted to do was wipe the tears from your cheeks. You just didn't understand. "That place isn't your home anymore." He turned his back to you after grabbing the empty glass of water. In a few strides, he arrived at a sink and twisted the tap to refill it and set it back down on the table next to the bed on which you were still perched.

You swallowed hard, watching his movements, taking all of him in now that he was standing a bit farther away from you, realizing you had missed one massive detail since coming around. The cloak. The red clouds. You had never seen him in it before. It never occured to you to ask him which ninja village he was from. He didn't belong to one anymore. Kisame, the polite, gentle giant who came to your shop regularly and caught giant boxes of falling kunai like they were made of nothing, was a member of the Akatsuki.

"You'll come around."

Looking up at him with wide eyes, the sick knot growing in your stomach twisted its way up into your throat. He was never going to let you leave.

Over the next few days, you came to the conclusion that the only way you were going to escape was by biding your time and waiting for an opportunity to present itself. You put on your most cooperative face and played nice in hopes that he might unlock the shackle circling your wrist that kept you from straying from the confines of the cabin. So long as you stayed amicable, he wasn't abrasive or harsh in his tone and even brought you the few things you asked for -- books, namely, to keep yourself occupied since you couldn't exactly go anywhere. In fact, he still acted like the same Kisame you thought you knew before, never raising his voice or directing any aggression at you. While you did manage to rile him up accidentally with another angry rant about wanting to go home, he simply narrowed his eyes and walked out of the cabin, instead unleashing his frustrations onto the nearby trees. The resounding crunching and crashes of destruction in the distance indicated that he had taken his own anger elsewhere to spare you from it.

Then, finally, the opportunity you had been so patiently waiting for arrived. While you were feigning sleep, you heard Kisame mutter to himself about some mission that needed his attention. The sound of his heavy footsteps grew louder as he approached you. Facing away, you kept still, hoping that he would still assume you were asleep if you maintained your rate of slow, steady breathing. It took everything you had to not jump when his fingers gently raked through your hair as he quietly told you he would be back soon. You waited a solid ten minutes after the door closed before slowly sitting up and checking your surroundings to ensure that he had actually left.

"I am not dying here," you hissed through grit teeth, feverishly digging in your hair for a pin that you used to begin working the locking mechanism of the cuff around your wrist with a frantic vigor. You silently thanked Ryuji for teaching you to pick locks as part of your training, as your shop also offered locksmithing services to the locals. One of your many odd jobs was letting people back into their own houses after they'd had a mishap with keys. That skill was a godsend now. Your hands shook as adrenaline spiked and coursed rapidly through your veins, shooting your heart into your mouth as you finally managed to pop the lock. You gasped in surprise, realizing that you had actually pulled it off and tossed the metal aside swiftly like it was a snake, scrambling across the bed to your feet and toward the door. Hesitating for a moment, you realized that you didn't have any shoes, and it didn't appear that footwear was among the things of yours that Kisame had liberated from your house. With a quiet groan, you decided that you were just going to have to put up with splinters and worry about whatever creepy crawlies inhabited the forest floor later. Right now, you needed to run.

You bolted out the door and took off through the thick grasses surrounding the cabin, darting into the surrounding woods. Glancing at the location of the sun, you strained your eyes, trying to get your bearings. Admittedly, outdoor survival was not one of your strengths, but you had some basic ideas as to how to determine which direction you were headed. Unfortunately, though, you had no idea where you were in relation to your village. Kisame hadn't exactly given you any clues, despite your best efforts to squeeze him for information over the last few days. Shaking your head to dislodge the negative thoughts brewing in your mind, you tore through the underbrush and trees as fast as your bare feet could carry you, ignoring the bite of the sticks and brambles that nipped at your exposed ankles and arches of your feet.

Just. Keep. Running.

Your bubbling fear urged you forward at an unsustainable pace. With your heart beating wildly in your throat, your eyes darted rapidly through the thick sea of trunks that all began largely looking identical the further you went into the forest. All of your senses buzzed under the weight of the urgent need to escape. Logic and reason were long forgotten. Your lizard brain just screamed at you over and over, deafening the rest of your thoughts. Your chest heaved as you sucked in the ever thickening air, almost growing dizzy from the force of your gasping. Panic was rising rapidly as your growing dread oozed and festered into a monstrous amalgam, lined with pointed teeth and scales.

Those eyes. Those monstrous, leering eyes settled into the back of your head despite the feverish motion of your legs. They felt inescapable. The farther you ran, the worse the twisting anxiety in your gut became. You had no idea where you were going. Every few hundred feet, your wide eyes darted over your shoulder, searching for monsters leering through the darkening wood. Your paranoia thickened with every subsequent step. Staring behind you far too often left you blind to the path ahead. Suddenly, the wet earth beneath your toes was no longer at the right angle -- you let out a horrified shriek as you slipped, snapping your head around as you quickly realized the depth of your error. You missed the steep drop-off. Your ankle twisted with a frighteningly painful crack.

You began to fall.

Down, down, down the steep wall of earth and debris you tumbled, smashing your flailing body into rocks and exposed roots as you twisted head over heels down an impossibly deep trench. With an agonized, gasping cough, you finally hit the sopping mass of wet leaves below with a squelching splash. With the air stolen from your lungs, you dry heaved. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you tried to push yourself up out of the mucky puddle you landed in, wincing as you realized that your ankle was completely trashed and would not support your weight in its current state. You hollered miserably into the mud, pounding your fist into the soggy leaves in a fit of teary frustration. "Damnit!" You shrieked into the void, clenching your eyes shut and trying to wipe mud from your face with your now soaked sleeves. Gritting your teeth with a pained cry stifled in your chest, you struggled to haul yourself to your feet and stumbled with a limp toward a nearby tree to free yourself from the dark sludge. Tears streaked down your face, mixing with smears of mud as you bit back a sob and leaned into the damp bark. Your body shook from the painful throb that was slowly overtaking you as you realized just how badly you had banged yourself up with that fall. Glancing up, your stomach dropped, realizing how much worse that fall could have been had you landed differently. Your misty eyes shifted down your trembling leg, catching a glimpse of your rapidly swelling ankle and letting out another guttural moan of anguish as the dread of just how utterly fucked you were now settled in.

You were so fucking cold. This far down, the sunlight barely filtered through the trees. Your clothes were now dripping with dirty, muddy slop that was rapidly sucking the heat from your bruised skin. The bare, scraped soles of your feet tingled like they were being pierced with needles as a stiff breeze blew by, amplifying the painful bite of the frigid puddle you landed in. The damp earth beneath you now wasn't much better. Clenching your jaw, you staggered from one tree to the next, straining to escape the cold depths of what might as well have been a swamp. Every step was more difficult than the last. With a miserable sob, you sank against the driest tree you could find, setting your back against it as you collapsed into the dirt, unable to go any further.

You sat there defeatedly as the sun slowly moved through the sky beyond the canopy, shading you from its desperately needed warmth, shivering and drawing your good leg up to your chest in an effort to preserve body heat. Choking back a sob, you set your head down on your bent leg as you hugged it tightly against your body. "Kisame, please," you whispered into your knee in a frightened prayer over the animals howling in the distance. "Help."

--------

Tagged: @mytanuki-kun

Ugh Biker!Lee know is just so... *chef's kiss*

⭑“race my heart”pt.1⭑

⭑ lee know x female reader

⭑ synopsis: lee know, your academic rival strikes your path again during a motorbike meet up, and the lines of hatred and love begin to blur. as the engines rev and the wind blows hard, these lines intertwine and you both spill the bottles of emotions you had for eachother.

⭑ content includes: (barely any) drinking, non-idol lee know, non-idol reader, enemies to lovers, readers friend, pet name (sweetheart)

⭑ minors dni

⭑——————————————————⭑

the sound of the roaring engines shook the bones in your body. you regret telling your friend you were into biker guys because here you are, sitting on a stack of tires, watching the cocky guys rev their motorbikes and force clearly uncomfortable girls on rides. “loosen up! here’s a beer” your friend approaches your way…

“yea, thanks” you take a large swig and continue observing the group of guys, hoping to maybe find someone that stood out to you.

“see that guy there? with the blonde hair? what do you think of him” your friend points at a man, grabbing at another girls ass and eyeing you disgustingly.

“girl what the fuck”

she lets out a loud laugh and jumps off the tower of wheels she sat on, dusting her pants and winking at you.

“i’m gonna go talk to him”

“good luck! he can drive your ass home too!” you scoffed at how gullible she was, falling for any guy that met one of her pity demands. in this case, he happened to be blonde and about 6 foot.

you began to get lightheaded and bored, so you walk off from the crowd to enjoy some silence on the dark sandy roads. as you move further, you identify another motorbike and a man squatting infront of it, inspecting something. the lights of the motorbike beamed his whole face, and you stopped dead in your tracks.

“l-lee know?” you were certain it was him, not even bothering to move any closer.

his head slowly moves to face the direction his name called, his eyes still on the motorbike.

“hm?” his eyes now move to face you, and his eyes widen. he gets up from his knees and he stands tall, in all his glory. he wore a tank top and black jeans with a puffy harley davidson jacket, helmet resting on the floor. you could’ve sworn your heart stopped.

lee know was your academic rival. during college you and him would battle head to head, always aiming to achieve perfect grades and grades better than his. the hatred never settled, and you both graduated with pure hatred for eachother. but as you grew older and started stalking his social life, the line between hatred and love blurred, and you began to see him in another light.

“what.. the hell are you doing here?” he exclaims

“my friend brought me over with here, in hopes i find my ‘dream man’ “ you gestured with air quotes.

“good luck, none of the guys would settle for someone who looks like you”

“huh, you haven’t changed in the slightest. i mean, we both graduated with the same grades and you still hate me?”

he turns to face his motorbike again, wiping the hood with his hand

“i didn’t want to hate you y/n and figure things out, but you really are a scumbag and there is no arguing that”

you’re taken aback, remembering all the times he tried sabotaging your exams and putting everything at risk to bring you lower.

“let me remind you of that one time you shoved the answer sheet in my exam papers and failed me.”

you see him grow a grin on his face, and your blood begins to boil.

“you’re just calling me a scumbag because i didn’t put up with your shit like every other person who wanted your sympathy”

“what do you want now, y/n”

you take a long breath, thinking about what you wanted. you wanted him to apologize, to get to know you now, to drive you to his place, to make love with you, to degrade you like he always did. you wanted a lot.

“you can drive me home since none of the guys ‘want me’ ”

“and what makes you think i want you? hm?”

“it’s the least you can do for that exam you made me fail. don’t get me started.”

he seemed to love everytime you mention it, because he grins uncontrollably and it makes you want to slap him across the face.

“fine then, but you’re waiting till i leave”

you let out an audible sigh and go back to where your friend is, or was. it seemed like he really drove her ass home.

you’re eyes got heavy while you laid on the sand, watching the clouds drive on the starry night. everyone had left with their pair, and you were left waiting for lee know to finish whatever he had going on. you would call a cab, but this meet up was in the middle of a desert and no cab was willing to off road at 1 in the morning. you check your phone to see if your friend had left you a message. and sure she had.

MY OTHER HALF- i knew lee know would be there 00:17

MY OTHER HALF- have fun girlfriend ;) 00:17

YOU- kys 01:03

you hear the faint noise of an engine and jolt up, ready to go home and process what happened today. he gets to a stop behind you and you lift yourself up, squinting at the intensity of his bright white lights. you awkwardly approach the back of his motorbike and climb on, resisting to place your hands around his waist.

“i’ve never done this before.”

“we’ll wrap your hands around me, so it doesn’t become your last”

he was always straight forward and rude, since the first day you met him. but he never spoke anything that could be argued, and you surely didn’t want to die in his arms.

you let your arms wrap around his stomach and distance your body from him, trying to keep things mundane till you would reach home.

“hold tight sweetheart”

⭑ TO BE CONTINUED

VON DUTCH — PT. 2 of MEGAVERSE — [18+!]

AN INTERACTIVE SERIES

“Don’t say stuff like that, honey. You’re gonna mess with my head, hm?”

❇️ The city that allows you to follow your dreams is definitely the best option for the situation you’re in—for inexplicable reasons, you find yourself in a parallel universe. Luckily, your new neighbour Felix—a handsome actor—is more than willing to show you around the area. But for some reason, he reminds you a little too much of your childhood best friend. This can’t be a coincidence, right?

❕ [READ CAREFULLY] Select an option for the poll after reading this chapter! [poll will be up for 7 days and then the next part drops]

🧩 CONTENT INFO: skz ot8 x afab reader [not at the same time], smut/fluff/angst, parallel universe/video game au, sci-fi au, mc keeps believing she’s dreaming

📗 WORD COUNT: 4.9K

⛳️ CONTENT WARNING: explicit sexual content [includes fingering and oral (f receiving), slightest marking, name calling such as honey, baby], consumption of alcohol, so many pent up feelings

💚 AUTHOR’S NOTE: thank you guys so much for the incredible feedback and participation on the first part 😭 you’re literally amazing!! the majority (~30%) chose the city that allows you to follow your dreams and to meet our sunshine boy 🤭 I hope you’ll enjoy—if that’s the case, make sure to comment/reblog/send an ask or DM and tell me 1) what you chose this time and why and 2) how you like the story so far. lots of love to all of you 💚 thanks for reading and enjoy!! 🫶🏻

Welcome to the Real Life Simulations. Please choose a world to play in.

There’s a countdown in front of your eyes. You’ve never been good at making decisions—especially when you don’t have much time. You reread the options, as the letters become a blur in front of your eyes.

God. What are you supposed to pick? This feels like a dream. A very confusing dream. You’ve been through this before. Sometimes, you’re aware that you’re dreaming but you’re not that sure right now.

Dream.

Maybe that’s the code word.

‘A city that allows me to be myself and chase my dreams!’

You reach for the banner, not quite sure how you’re physically supposed to show the universe what your pick is but it understands you.

And you read the next text blinking in bold letters.

Welcome to Starlost Boulevard where everyone can be who they want to be. Are you ready?

You suppose it’s a rhetorical question since you don’t get any time to make up your mind before your vision turns dark again.

You’ll wake up now. What a weird dream, right?

However, when you open your eyes, you don’t find yourself in the apartment you share with your crush Jisung but in a completely new home instead.

It’s rather empty compared to your bedroom outside of this weird dream—the mattress you’re lying on isn’t that comfortable and everything seems rather narrow. You decide to stand up, placing your feet on the ground as you realise you’re wearing different clothes from before falling asleep in your bedroom at home.

Where the hell are you? What is this? And why can’t you wake up?

You pinch yourself in your upper arm—a pro tip to figure out whether you’re inside a dream or not—but you can feel it. The skin that’s pressed between your fingers starts hurting a bit when you apply more strength.

Fucking hell.

What happened?

You can feel panic rush over you but it’s soon drowned out by more confusion. Catching a glimpse of your surroundings, you find a dresser and a desk inside this bedroom that looks nothing like your real one.

Breathe, Y/N. This isn’t real.

Taking a few steps, you walk towards the door and open it. A second later, you’re standing inside the entrance area of your tiny house that you seem to live in alone. Weird. Where’s Jisung? Why is he not with you?

But once you’re done checking out the building, you realise there’s only one bedroom. Perhaps, whoever actually owns this place lives here alone.

Deciding to freshen up, you walk inside the simply decorated bathroom, taking a quick shower. A very cold shower. God, you hate this.

A message pops up on the phone that’s lying on the bathroom counter—who placed it there?

“If you don’t pay your bills within 48 hours, we’ll cut off your electricity. — Sent 2 days and 5 hours ago.”

Wow. Great. So, you’re stuck inside a stranger’s tiny home that doesn’t even function properly? How do you deserve this?

Once you’re dressed—your wardrobe is filled with the same outfits for eight different occasions several times—you dare to step outside the little house, checking your mailbox.

“For home owner, Y/L/N Y/N. Starlost Boulevard News: Diamond Diaries museum organises vernissage for upcoming collection of artist Hyunjin Hwang.”

What?

Perhaps it’s a common name, right? They can’t mean your Hyunjin—your best friend’s crush, can they?

You stuff the piece of paper back into your mailbox, deciding to head inside again. When you read the time on your phone, you realise it’s just a bit after noon.

The letter was addressed to you. As a homeowner. This shitty trailer belongs to you?

Wow, real life Y/N wasn’t the richest girlie in Seoul by any means, but why does your dream version have to suffer even more?

However, who in today’s age can even afford a house and be a homeowner, so that’s at least something. Even if the building—if you can even call it that—reminds you more of a shoe box.

Knock knock.

You’re someone who never opens the front door unless one of your friends announced themselves or Jisung forgot his keys again.

Jisung. Right.

You wonder if Hyunjin is here, if there might also be a chance for you to meet your crush here too.

This is ridiculous. The vernissage they announced in that newspaper letter wasn’t even about Hyunjin who’s part of your friend group. That you are sure of.

Knock knock.

Maybe it was just the wind and no one actually knocked at your front door. If you ignore the sound long enough, it’ll go away.

You walk towards the fridge in the pantry kitchen, when you hear your stomach growl a little. When you open it, you’re greeted by a cutting board that has ingredients placed on it.

What the fuck.

This looks just like the game you were playing right before you fell asleep. You should lower your screen time by hours. You’re already dreaming about the game in which you created a version of yourself and your crush in order to get them married.

Knock knock.

“Hi, sorry to disturb you but I’m your neighbour. I just wanted to introduce myself. I live in the trailer across your own,” a low male voice says.

A tone that’s ridiculously familiar. And you haven’t listened to it for years after he moved away after highschool and ghosted his whole friend group—including you—to start over after what happened between you both.

It can’t be, right? You’re not meeting your childhood friend again in a dream. You’ve been having those from time to time—one in which you both got stuck on a road trip in New Zealand, sharing the same van—and they’ve been piling up these past couple of weeks. But it still can’t be.

Right?

You dare to open the front door and when you’re met with his beautiful brown eyes and the freckles decorating his pretty face, you accidentally let the loaf of bread inside your hand fall down.

“Hi—Y/N?” he asks, his eyes widening. “You moved here? I haven’t seen you in ages.”

No. This can’t be. This can’t be true. Well, it’s a dream after all, isn’t it?

Isn’t it?

Something tells you that you might not believe that anymore. Something about this situation feels oddly… real.

“Felix?” you let out.

God, how many years you haven’t said his name out loud. No one in your friend group, actually. Not after what he did.

“Yeah, it’s me. I’ve got brownies for you. A welcome gift,“ he explains, showing you the baked goods. “I wasn’t aware that it is you who moved here. Our neighbour that lives in the third trailer—her name is Venessa—announced that we had someone new here.”

Venessa?

“Venessa Jeong?” you intuitively ask him. Because you actually don’t know anyone else with that first name.

“Oh, you know her?” your new neighbour questions.

“Not personally. A friend of a friend,” you add. Well, it’s the best way to explain it. Definitely better than calling her your crush’s fling. However, Jisung—in real life—told you that these two didn’t work out anyway.

“Oh, that’s cool,” Felix says.

“Why don’t you come inside?” you blurt out, not wanting him to stand there awkwardly on your doorstep with a huge box of brownies in his hand.

“Of course,” he says, taking off his shoes and placing the cake on your kitchen counter.

“How long have you been living in this neighbourhood?” you ask him. This doesn’t make sense. The Felix in the real world left Seoul six years ago, right after finishing high school when he cut off contact with your whole friend group.

“For almost six years now. When I left our hometown, I ended up here. You know, to pursue my acting career,” he explains.

Fucking hell. This feels like some weird, alternative universe.

“Actor? You’re an actor?” you ask. This is super impressive. Your childhood friend always wanted to be an actor and knowing that he actually managed to become successful in this dream world is crazy.

More or less successful.

“Yeah. You might have seen me in a couple of lesser known movies. I’m still… trying to… you know, establish a fanbase and a solid income,” he says with a quieter voice now, scratching the back of his head.

“It’s always been your dream,” you remind him. He wrote it in your friendship book—the one you lend your loved ones so they can fill out a little profile and description—that his dream career is to be an actor one day.

“What brings you here?” he suddenly asks you.

Fuck. You’re drawn out of your thoughts.

Yeah. What the hell brings you here?

Well, let’s have a look at it. You played The Sims on your computer and the next thing you know is falling asleep and having a weird ass dream about being caught in the game–

Wait. It does feel like you’re caught in the game, right? Starting with a cheap building, no job, no friends. That’s basically The Sims. Or generally young adult life in the 21st century.

“W-What?”

“How did you end up in Starlost Boulevard? Were you getting sick of Seoul?” Felix wants to know.

So, Seoul exists in this dream too?

“Yeah, basically,” you say, deciding to just go with this option.

“I get that. It’s a lot more chill here and the weather is so much better. No one cares what you do or what you wear. I can show you around, if you like,” he suddenly offers.

“Sure,” you accept, knowing it’s a good idea. Although your heart is getting more and more confused about being with Felix again.

“Oh, you dropped this,” he tells you, handing you the loaf of bread. “Grilled cheese is always a good choice. Are you hungry? We can get something on the way.”

Perhaps it’s more like a parallel universe if Felix recognises you. A dream about a parallel universe inspired by your game.

It is a dream, right?

When you reach for your smartphone to check the time a pop-up appears.

“Felix Lee. Actor [Level 2]. 24 years old. Starlost Boulevard. Traits: ambitious, lovebug, geek, [2 more hidden traits]. Friends: Venessa Jeong, Penny Pizzazz, Hyunjin Hwang. Acquaintances: Miko Ojo, Seungmin Kim. Enemies: Akira Kibo.”

Hyunjin Hwang? Fuck. You have to subtly ask him about that guy later. And it isn’t even the only name that you’ve heard of before.

But for now, Felix is offering his hand, which you take, as he guides you outside your tiny house.

Your eyes are met with the tallest palm trees you’ve ever witnessed, when Felix and you have walked a bit down the street where your small houses are located. 

The nature is stunning and you’re grateful for the warm weather. It’s a climate you aren’t familiar with, so much different to Seoul. 

“How do you like Starlost Boulevard so far? You’ve never been here before, right?”

Okay you’re sure now that this Felix isn’t aware of the fact that you’re caught inside your dream together. How are you supposed to have visited this city when it’s not real?

“No, never,” you admit. “But I like it. It’s so different to our hometown.”

Felix nods, “Oh, absolutely. It’s awesome to just be who you want to be. No one ever judges you for your choice in job, style or relationships.”

Relationships. Fuck. It does something to your head listening to dream-Felix speak that word. After all, the two of you have a tiny bit of a history in real life.

“That’s nice,” you say, keeping your gaze fixated on the houses, palm trees and neon signs in front of you.

“Hm, it can be shallow at times too. So, I’m happy I actually have a few real friends here. Including you now.”

When you turn around to look at him, your childhood friend sends a wink your way, managing to let your heart skip a beat. Or a few.

“Y-Yeah. I’m happy to be here.”

Although, you’re fucking overwhelmed. You ended up inside a random trailer as if you were catapulted into a parallel universe without a plan, job or a single coin of money. 

“Can I tell you something?” you ask. There’s been something on your mind. Well a lot. You’re overwhelmed. And you don’t know how things work in this dream world so you definitely will need some advice. You basically spawned in Starlost Boulevard and now you’re expected to know how things work.

“I arrived here only today and don’t have electricity yet. It’s a bit embarrassing…” you start.

“Oh, no it’s not, honey,” Felix immediately reassures you.

Why the sudden use of the nickname he called you six years ago?

“You can come to my place for showering and food, if you like,” he offers. Thank God. Or Felix.

“That would be great,” you say, giving him a bright smile.

“I mean, it’s convenient you live so close to an old friend, right?” he asks with a wink.

Fucking hell. Living so close to him will play with your stupid little heart.

A bit later, you arrive in what seems to be the town's centre. There’s not much going on except for even more palm trees and a lot of busy people, until you notice a modern building that looks like random shapes stacked up on another.

“That’s the Diamond Dream museum," Felix begins.

“Wow, it’s…”

He chuckles, “It’s fucking ugly, yes, I know. I don’t know who the hell they hired as an architect. But my friend Hyunjin will have his vernissage for his upcoming project soon. You should go there with me.”

Felix is so much more straightforward than back then. You like it.

And there’s something else you notice.

His friend Hyunjin.

Sure, you’ve noticed it an hour ago, when your phone showed you this weird profile page about your former childhood friend. But how high are the chances that it’s the Hyunjin Hwang? After all, they used to be friends too.

“Oh, I’d love that. Thank you,” you tell him.

“Anything for you, Y/N. I’m glad you’re here and I’m more than happy to show you around, hm?” he says with an expression on his face that you can’t quite interpret.

The two of you keep walking around, finding a little house that sells street food. You both opt for burritos and lemonade, searching for a place to sit down for eating.

The food is great—you’ve been so hungry—and having Felix as your company is always perfect. 

And while you’re busy munching your meal, a woman approaches the two of you. She has medium length turquoise hair with a few yellow strands—it looks pretty cool if you’re honest—and wears a casual outfit.

“Look, there’s Venessa. Our neighbour,” Felix informs you.

That’s Venessa Jeong? Fuck, you kind of get why Jisung wanted to meet her. Perhaps, you wouldn’t have declined that offer either.

“Hey, Lixie. How’re you?” She suddenly shifts closer to him, lowering her voice. “Sorry, are you on a date?”

“This is our new neighbour, Y/N. I’m just showing her around,” he explains with a bright smile.

“Y/N… I’ve heard that name somewhere before,” Venessa starts. Right. She invited that guy over some nights ago who moaned that exact name while they were at it. What a weird coincidence. “I’m Venessa, so nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” you say. “Are you an actor as well?”

Your smartphone that’s placed on the wooden table suddenly starts lighting up.

New info unlocked: Venessa Jeong. Actor [Level 3]. 26 years old. Starlost Boulevard. Traits: ambitious, cheerful, [3 more hidden traits]. Friends: Felix Lee, Hyunjin Hwang, Johnny Zest, Thi Linh. Acquaintances: Seungmin Kim, Candy Behr. Enemies: Catarina Lynx (ex girlfriend).

“Yes, I am! I’m playing a bunch of roles together with Felix. How about you? What do you do for a living?” she asks you back.

“Uhm… I just moved here. I… don’t have a job yet,” you explain, feeling a little embarrassed. Who the hell would move to a random city without any job?

“If you ever need help finding anything, let us know! Lix and I can definitely help you.” She takes a sip from her green smoothie. “I’m happy to have another female friend here. You seem really nice, Y/N.”

“T-Thank you, you too,” you tell her.

“Anyway, I’ve gotta go. I have some filming hours later and have to get ready. Have fun, you two,” she says with a friendly tone, meaning it.

“Bye, see you later, Venessa.” Felix takes a look at you. “Shall we continue?”

Since the two of you both fancied a drink somewhere, Felix showed you his favourite pub with a questionable name—Orchid A Go Go—the person that came up with it was definitely drunk.

“What would you like?” your childhood friend asks and you tell him your choice. A little while later, Felix joins you in the booth you’re sitting in.

“Here’s your margarita, darling,” he says, casually throwing in some flirty name again.

It reminds you a little of Jisung. Maybe, you’ve gotten so attached to your roommate because you’ve never gotten over Felix. Sure, that’s just an assumption but to some extent it makes perfect sense. After all, your childhood friend used to play this hot and cold game for a long time as well.

“I missed you, honey,” he confesses.

Okay, maybe this new, dream version Felix is a lot more straightforward, honest and confident than both his former self and your crush from the real world.

“I missed you too, Lix.” You have no issue in admitting this too. Denying wouldn’t make any sense anyway, it’s just the truth. “Can I ask you something?”

You’re already here with him anyway. Might just well take your chance.

“Always. I think I already know what you’re thinking about with that distracted little head of yours.”

Fuck. He’s gonna mess with your head.

However, this will give you some answers for a long lost cause and you’ll perhaps also figure out if Felix was talking about your shared friend Hyunjin or someone else today when the name was mentioned.

“Why did you cut off contact? Like—with the whole friend group.”

It’s out. The question you’ve wanted to ask for six years now.

“Hm, I’m sure Changbin and Cecilia miss me too,” he chuckles. “Hyunjin and I found each other again when he had a job offer in Starlost Boulevard some years ago. I thought he would have told you guys.”

This is what differs from the real world. Hyunjin isn’t friends with Felix anymore either. You don’t even know where the hell your former friend lives or what he does for a living.

“He didn’t,” you confess.

Felix doesn’t question it. But he wants to tell you the truth. “You really wanna know why I ghosted all of you?”

“Yeah… please, I’ve always wondered if it was something I said or did that… pissed you off,” you say, your voice becoming a bit quieter.

“And what if it was?”

Fucking hell. Your heart shatters. You being responsible for him ghosting the whole friend group lets an uncomfortable feeling bubble up inside your stomach.

“W-What?”

“Do you remember our kiss? At our highschool graduation party?”

Of course you do. You could never forget. The two of you were a bit tipsy. And knowing that a new chapter was about to start in your lives, you became a little reckless. Your stupid crush on Felix back then didn’t help the situation.

“I do, yeah…” you admit, catching your lower lip between your teeth.

“I had a big crush on you back then, Y/N. But you were head over heels for that asshole—what was his name again—right, Akira instead,” he explains with a chuckle.

Right. Akira and you went on a few dates. He was the first man you’ve ever gone out with but it didn’t click much. Perhaps, you fell in love with the idea of him instead. It did bring you something good though—through him, you met Jisung.

“That pretty boy with the tattoos who’s a bit older and who switches his girlfriends every week and you fell for him too… when you had me, your best friend, in front of you all the time,” Felix adds. Suddenly, he scoots a bit closer, reaching for your hand.

“I’m… I’m sorry, Lix,” you tell him.

“It’s okay. It’s been what—six years? That’s why I moved here. I needed to start from zero and finally follow my dreams.”

“I’m proud of you, you know? I wish I would have had a chance to be a part of it, but I understand you,” you tell him, meaning it.

“Y-You do?”

“Hm, it’s just a shame that I actually had a crush on you back then. Akira was just some guy to make you jealous when that girl—Miko—asked you out.”

Miko and you became friends a couple of years later in college and you got over the initial rivalry. And thanks to her, you met Seungmin since the two of them used to study political science together. Well, at least in the real world. You don’t know if this applies to this weird dream you’re caught in.

“I’ve never liked Miko more than a friend. Fuck. We’re such idiots, aren’t we?”

The both of you burst out in laughter, before your glasses clash together and a ‘cheers’ echoes through the mostly empty pub.

“We were young, Lix. That’s normal,” you tell him, brushing over his arm with your fingers.

He giggles, flustered, and you enjoy the view and sound of it. “I know… but we wasted so many years.”

Dream-Felix is gonna make you lose your mind. How deeply you wished this was the real world.

“We can start from here again. All fresh,” you offer.

“I’d like that. Cheers to us, Y/N. I’m glad destiny brought us together.”

Your heart halts for a second. Fuck, you wish it was true and you weren’t caught in a dream. You’re gonna wake up tomorrow and miss Felix again.

Might as well take all the chances you get, right?

“Can I tell you another secret, Lix?”

“Sure, honey,” he encourages you, scooting even closer. To any nosy people this might sound suspicious, but you’ve known each other your whole life, right?

However, with the following words that you’re speaking, things don’t seem so platonic anymore. “The kiss we shared… even after all these years, it’s still my favourite of all time.”

Felix throws his head back, trying to withstand the temptation between the both of you. Fuck. The fact you’re just casually dropping that information gets under his skin like nothing else.

He brings his gaze back to you, reaching for his glass and downing the rest of his drink.

“Fuck, don’t say stuff like that, honey. You’re gonna mess with my head, hm?”

His fingers wander under your chin, making you look up at him.

“What if that’s my plan?” you say, clicking your tongue and tilting your head a bit.

“You won’t be getting out of this too easily, okay?”

“Great. Because I’m not planning to have you run away again,” you admit. And he should know this.

Something inside Felix’s eyes darkens, when he leans closer and whispers into your ear. “How about we go back to my house, hm? I haven’t shown you my place yet.”

Felix’s trailer doesn’t differ a lot from your own on the outside, but it’s something completely else inside. It’s cosy and beautifully decorated, making it feel very lived in.

“Make yourself comfortable on the couch, honey,” he tells you, while getting two glasses of water for the both of you. He places them down on the table in front of the sofa, before he joins you.

“I’m happy you’re in my life again, Y/N,” he confesses.

You smile, “Me too, Lix.”

Oh, how much you wished this wasn’t a dream but the real world.

“Come here, hm?” Felix casually reaches for your hands, painfully slowly hovering you on top of him. “Sit down, pretty. I told you to make yourself comfortable.”

Fucking hell. This is the best dream you’ve ever had.

“Kiss me, please,” you whisper against his lips that are now only separated from your own by a thin layer of air.

“So polite, hm?” he chuckles, before he crashes his lips into your own, sealing them with a heated kiss. And you were correct. Felix has always been the best kisser on this planet.

You can’t compare this to any feelings you’ve ever experienced in your entire life—Felix tastes like the first sunbeams welcoming spring and the first snowfall welcoming winter, like a cup of hot tea after a cold autumn day or gelato on a hot summer day.

He tastes like pure comfort. As if you’ve always belonged together.

You invite his tongue inside your mouth, sensing it dancing around with your own, as he pulls you closer by the waist. A few little grunts spill from his lips and they grow rougher, whenever you instinctively grind over his slowly hardening crotch.

He helps you with your rhythm, enjoying the small sounds you make whenever the friction makes you feel just right. Sooner than later, he feels you humping his clothed cock, becoming more comfortable. Fuck. He’s wanted to do this ever since that first kiss the two of you shared. He’s always regretted letting you go for such immature reasons.

“I adore kissing you, baby,” Felix says, letting go of you for a moment, “but I need my lips on your pretty pussy, yeah?”

Oh, God. No man has ever talked to you like this. Of course, the night you shared with Chan not that long ago was amazing without a doubt. But Felix’s low voice and the way he casually throws in those words, makes your head spin.

When you give him a nod—and a wide grin—Felix picks you up and places you on your back, as you’re lying on his couch now, while he’s towering over you—ready to devour you like a five star meal.

As if you’re on autopilot, you spread your legs, when Felix’s kisses make their way down your jaw, your neck and your cleavage. This feels so good. And so real. He wanders further south, creating a pretty pathway of rough bites and love marks—the beauty of this artwork is out of this world.

You allow him to hover your dress over your head, leaving you in your lingerie. Weird. You’ve never seen this one before. But it fits you perfectly. The black laces are hugging your curves just right and the green little diamond jewellery attached to them makes the look perfect. Almost too pretty to take off. Almost.

Felix is already between your thighs, placing them on his shoulders, as you watch him carry the most mischievous smirk on his face, when he looks up at you.

“Ready, honey?”

“Don’t make me wait, Lixie,” you whine.

“You’re impatient, baby,” he whispers, the hotness of his breath lingering on the exposed skin of your thighs. Felix adds a little kiss to your ruined panties, watching your mouth part, before he decides to get rid off the fabric entirely. Your bra and underwear land on the pile of clothing—along with your dress and his shirt—somewhere on the floor, before he gets back to you.

And you’re sure you’re gonna see stars in an instant, when he starts placing kitten licks on your aching pussy, the top of his tongue grazing over your clit ever so lightly. 

Instinctively, you reach for his long, blond hair—it looks so different compared to back then—guiding his moves the way you prefer it. Felix lets out a grunt, feeling himself growing tighter in his pants. But he stays focused on you. Tonight is about you. He will make sure that your paths never cross again. Your former friend has waited and wasted too many years for that.

“Lixie– right there, please,” you struggle to let out.

And all he does is decide to bring two fingers to your entrance, letting them circle around your wet hole, before he pushes them inside. His tongue is lying flat against your tongue, while he stares up at your through his long strands. 

Felix starts moving his fingers, pounding them into your cunt, as his tongue starts moving again.

Oh, you’re not gonna last long.

“Felix– please.”

“Honey, come on… you know what I’m waiting for, don’t you?” he asks you, chucking.

You hastily nod, letting your head fall back, “Hm– fuck, I’m gonna–“

And you do. All over his tongue and fingers, making a huge mess. Felix helps you through your high, listening to your moans and whimpers. He wishes he could tattoo the sounds to his brain, so he would be able to replay them whenever he feels like it.

Your childhood friend pulls his fingers out of you and licks them clean, placing a few small kisses on your inner thighs. He gets up and walks to his bathroom, before he takes care of you and your body.

“Lixie?”

“Yeah?”

“This was nice,” you admit with a giggle.

“I agree, honey,” he says with a wink.

“Can I ask you something else?” you start again, once you’re dressed in some of his clothes.

“Of course—what is it?”

“Can you help me… find a job here?”

He reaches for his smartphone, giving the device to you. “Sure. Just pick one. These are the current ones.”

“That’s all I have to do?” you question.

“Yeah. Make a smart decision, Y/N.”

© j-One25 2024 | copying, translating or stealing my work is prohibited

Sweet Blind Summer Fling ༄ S. Gojo

"Due to a bet made by Nobara, I made an online dating account to set myself up with a blind date. Although a bit witty and annoyingly childish, Gojo's remarkably handsome and sweet...So, how the hell did I end up sleeping with him on the first date!?"

A/n: Alright, y'all, it's time for the second entry for my summer series!! Not gonna lie, it was fun to write as it's my first time writing for Gojo. I think I did a decent job capturing his character in my style, but you will be the judge of that. This was supposed to be posted on Monday, but I was overwhelmed (had 1 hour of sleep) and dropped something else. But we're good to go now! :) And fyi: there's a bonus scene at the end that sets up the next story as they are connected. Any spelling/grammar errors will be dealt with tomorrow.

Also, guest appearances from my lovely mooties (@cu7ie // @kazushawty // @etherealxmaya // @hqkalon // @yourrfavzxri // @neptunes1nterweb) because I felt like it, lol. Hope this puts a smile on their faces if they see this :3

Series m. list!! This entry has been updated along w/ its contents.

Cw: switch! Gojo x fem! reader - explicit content, so minors DNI - blind date/online match-up - age difference (the reader is at least in their 20s; Gojo is around early 30s) - texting back and forth - sex at a hotel - one night stands - consensual sex under the influence - protected sex (PSA: wrap it up, or get the fuck up) - cowgirl + lotus positions - pet names (angel, baby, dollface, pretty, princess, sweet thing) - clitoral play (swiping and pinching) - mentions of drug/alcohol use (reader and Gojo don't get blackout drunk, but y'all get tipsy) - a bunch of silliness bc it's a Gojo fic (duh).

Wc: 6.9k (7.4k with the bonus scene...never say I don't do anything for y'all)

Dear Diary...I once again have come to you with more thoughts that cloud my personal judgment. I did not think you'd be of use to me again. But after what happened last night, it's worth having you in front of me and a pen in my hand again once more...

After finishing your finals, summer break has finally welcomed you with open arms. Two semesters of painful studying and sleepless nights have been long forgotten since you turned in your last in-person exam! You've started working at an internship that you've been dying to get, enjoying the new things you're learning from experienced colleagues, and finding love in the field you've grown and studied for this entire time.

In addition, you also have all the time in the world to hang out with your best friends — Yuuji, Megumi, and Nobara! Just last weekend, you four hung out at this new sports bar that recently opened and had the most fun experience! Yuuji made new friends with people at the bar who kept buying him drinks; Megumi had to begrudgingly watch over the salmon-haired other to ensure he didn't croak from alcohol poisoning, and you and Nobara took sweet pictures together for your summer album.

It's been a great summer so far. There has been nothing that could bring you down from enjoying this season in the best way you can. Absolutely nothing that could throw you off your summer grove!

However, that's what you initially thought. Because why else would you be in some random hotel room writing in your diary.

To get the full context, I'll take you back to the night I and the gang left the sports bar. We spent the night at Yuuji's as he and Nobara tried to sober up...

It was a chill evening in your friend's place, you and the other three in the living room chatting with the television on low to not disrupt his sleeping grandfather. Yuuji was sobering up by eating bread and drinking water, Megumi was on the couch reading something on his phone, and you were arguing with Nobara.

The auburn-haired other points to you with her index, holding a glass of water. "I told ya, you lost the bet!"

"How!? You literally cheated!" You push her finger out of the way as you two giggle at your complaints. "You kicked Yuuji in the shin to distract him, and I didn't even know I was a part of the damn thing!"

Now your pink-haired friend jumped to say words of his own. "That was foul with what you did; I should've fallen to the floor and acted like I was really hurt. Have you paying my medical bills."

"Blah, blah, blah, sounds like a losers' pleas to me." Nobora rolls her eyes while you and Yuuji glare at her. "And you! You didn't say you were out of the game, unlike Megumi. I said, and I quote: 'When the wings touch the table, the bet is on,' and guess what? By the time the wings got here, I didn't hear a single peep out of you saying you forfeited from the challenge! Once you picked up a single wing, your ass was set in stone!"

"Oh, for fuck's sake, you annoying bitch..." you groan in your hands as the woman maniacally barks her laughs. "Alright, fine, I ate the shortest portion of wings. Therefore, I, Y/n L/n, declare myself the loser to this fuckery of a challenge. So, Queen Cheater," Nobara snickers to herself at the title you've given her. "What is my punishment?"

You should've known by the evil twinge of your friend's lip that the punishment would be absurd. "I, Queen Cheater," she takes a confident swig of her water before sealing your fate. The words she says next shake to your core, and the decline of your dignity hits you like a bullet train. "...Hereby dare you, the loser, to make an online dating account and find thyself a blind date!"

Your disapproval fell on deaf ears, forcing you to resentfully grab your phone and download a dating app. To make matters worse, you had to make the account with your friends watching (minus Megumi, who still wanted no part in what you all were doing). Once you were done setting up your profile, the three of you looked to the screen to look at the other users, who were also on a quest to find a sense of courtship.

The past thirty minutes have been spent looking at all the users around the area, swiping left and right for those who did and didn't pique your interest.

Todo Aoi (22) "I like 'em tall, with a FAT ASS. If you don't fit the criteria, it's gonna be hard to convince me."

Oh, brother.

Sol (18) "Don't know about a long-term relationship, but we can be chill if ya wanna be friends! :D"

Seems nice. Maybe a chat wouldn't hurt.

Mei Mei (36) Don't ever expect me to pay for the first date or any date. Will you see me again depends on what you have in your savings. ♡

Alright, I appreciate the honesty. But nope.

Karma (20) "Tbh I'm secretly married to my four wives: Hoshi, Maya, Sae, and Zari. But if you look like or are Toji Fushiguro, hit my DMs pronto!! Shhhh, don't tell Hoshi tho, she might divorce me :P"

Okay then—Wait, isn't that Megumi's dad??

Hoshi (20s) Don't listen to Karma. We are very much divorced, and my heart belongs to my one and only: Toji Fushiguro :/

Alrighty then...

Sapphire (19) "Call me MLK, cuz I had a dream about us 🫦"

Fucking no!

Frustration keens in through a heavy sigh. Usually, you'd be happy knowing you can't seem to find a match; however, for this situation, Nobara Kugisaki will not let you off the hook until there's someone worthy of the swipe of invitation. You groan in exhaustion, throwing your head back onto the couch behind you.

With no luck, you decided to call it a night and try again later. So you called an Uber, took yourself home after saying goodbyes to your friends, and reluctantly promised Nobara you'd let her know if you'd get a blind date. With a nice shower and some comfortable PJs, you're now lying comfortably on your bed and looking through all the pictures you took tonight. Then, for some reason, you had the urge to go back on the dating app to look through more users to match up with. Probably because you'd prefer to get this bet out of the way now than later. Regardless of the justification, you spend about twenty minutes swiping and reading through many other people's profiles, and — just like before — not many people catch your eye.

That holds true until you stumble upon a name and description that sparks your curiosity.

Satoru Gojo (old enough to be irresistible; 31) "I was made perfect, I can do everything perfectly, but I want us to be perfect together (･ω&lt;;)☆"

It might've been the use of the emoticon or the confidence that seeped out based on the tiny description. Whatever the case, you stayed on the user's profile for quite a while longer than the others. Even going far as to read his profile thoroughly: knowing what his likes and dislikes are, his height, a fan of Digimon, and so on.

And you contemplated whether or not to swipe him to the side of approval, but you made up your mind after a few minutes of inner discourse. It's not like I'll match up with him immediately. So, you gave him the go and continued on with your search.

Although, that was short-lived because what happened next surprised you to the point that sleep no longer claimed over you.

"Contratz! You've successfully matched with Satoru Gojo!"

Wait, what!!??

You were utterly perplexed by the pop-up showing up on your phone screen. There's no way this was happening, all under the same night, too! And what surprised you the most was the fact that he was awake as well, sending you the first message:

gogojojo: Hey!

Oh, fucking shit. Your body tenses at the greeting, reading his username and message repeatedly. Quickly, you take a few deep breaths to ease yourself before doing something stupid. You answer him with a salutation of your own:

y/ndontwannabehere: Hi there!

gogojojo: A night owl too, huh? Couldn't sleep?

y/ndontwannabehere: Yeah, was just on my phone for a bit, until I saw your message.

gogojojo: Lucky me! I was surprised to have you as a match, I saw your profile about an hour ago.

y/ndontwannabehere: I'm also surprised as well, you're one of the few people who I seemed interested in.

gogojojo: Well, I'm flattered :D Now that you got my attention, what would you like to know about me?

y/ndontwannabehere: Okay...it says you're six-foot-three, how's that like?

gogojojo: I may be six-foot-three, but I'd like to be six feet under you ;3

y/ndontwannabehere: ......

......I regret giving this dude a chance.

Because of the terrible pick-up line, you closed off the app and turned off your phone to switch the lights off and go to sleep. However, another text sends your phone vibrating on the dresser's surface.

gogojojo: Woooow, not even a pity laugh? :/

You shake your head at the notification, but a smile creeps up when you open your phone and tap on the keys to message back.

y/ndontwannabehere: nope, that sucked ass.

gogojojo: Hey now!! >:T you can't say it's ass if it did what it was supposed to do

y/ndontwannabehere: and what's that?

gogojojo: got you here talking with me ヾ(●ε●)ノ

His message makes your smile broader, and you spend the rest of the night talking to Gojo.

It continues for two more weeks, sharing pieces of info about yourselves while rolling your eyes at his annoying jokes and pick-up lines. But for the most part, you enjoy your talks with the stranger on the other side of your screen.

And it all goes swell until he drops this:

gogojojo: Hey! Wanna go on a date with me this weekend?

You were lying on your bed watching Netflix, and you almost choked on your dinner when the message popped up. So in tune with the back-and-forth between you and Gojo that you had forgotten why you made an online dating account in the first place! You grab for your phone to reply:

y/ndontwannabehere: you're serious?!

gogojojo: yeah! I mean, you and I've been talking for a while, I'm kinda into you, plus we could meet up somewhere close. Besides, I would like to see you, and I know you're dying to see me too :)

y/ndontwannabehere: And what makes you think I'd DIE just to see you?

gogojojo: Because why would you not~? You'd be surprised by how many people I've had fallen head-over-heels for me~

y/ndontwannabehere: well, guess I'll be the first one to not be >:3

gogojojo: HUH!!?? Don't say that, I'll cry

y/ndontwannabehere: LMAO grown ass man crying over rejection

gogojojo: Rejection hurts, and I have a weak heart!! :'000

y/ndontwannabehere: Liar.

gogojojo: ANYWAYS! You up for a date?

And that's how you started dressing yourself up on a Friday afternoon, fixing yourself up in front of your bedroom mirror. Checking your phone periodically for Gojo to tell you when he's in front of your home.

You already texted Nobara that you got a blind date, to which she praised you with monumental amounts of supportive text messages and emojis and a text stating she'll throttle you if you don't tell her all about it. It was humorous: you created the online dating account because of a stupid bet for a random date — and now that it was here, you didn't know how to feel. You can't say when was the last time you ever went out with someone, let alone on a blind date! Anxiousness shadows you about the whole thing, but after chatting and getting to know a little bit of Gojo, perhaps it wouldn't be so bad of a date.

After all, the guy seems likable and fun to hang out with based on your interactions. Plus, it's only a date. That's all it is. Absolutely nothing attached in any shape or form.

Thoughts grind to a halt when you hear your phone vibrating on your dresser, a text from Gojo.

gogojojo: I'm here~~~ Ready to fall madly in love with me? :3

Your heart skips a beat at the message, biting the bottom of your lip in nervousness. You send him a reply:

y/ndontwannabehere: Nah, ready to barf right in front of your face :P

gogojojo: Such a rude person :/ Get your butt out here

You giggle before shutting off your phone and grabbing your bag with all your necessary items. Before you leave, you look in the mirror one last time, using this moment to mentally prepare yourself for what's to come. The day has come; you're about to go on a date. No going back now, and I can finally put this dumb bet to rest!

You open your front door and enter outside, the summer heat crawling on your legs from your cute jean shorts and your shoulders excluded from the cream-white cami top. You see a black car — a black 2018 BMW XI — parked right on the street, windows tinted to hide the face you're looking for. But when you draw closer to the vehicle, the passenger side window slides down, and you finally meet him.

The man of the hour himself, the man you've been talking with for two weeks straight, and the man you were about to experience a complete mess of a date with: Satoru Gojo.

"Hey there," his voice was chipper and friendly; his texting style matched his speech. From the window, you can interpret his outfit: a blue flannel shirt covering his white Tee and black jeans with a silver chain emanating from his belt. His eyes were blocked by dark circle sunglasses, making it hard to decipher the color. But his snow-white hair was the first thing that caught your eye, contrasting with the black interior of his car. "Y/n, right?"

You smile at your name. "Correct, Mr. Gogojojo."

He snickers at the use of his username. "You look cute, and I know you like what you see since you were eyeballing me up and down."

"Yeah, whatever." You roll your eyes before opening the passenger door, putting your bag between your legs as you sit down. While putting on your seatbelt, you can feel the bass subtlety vibrate within the car, and the music was...What the fuck? You look at the front integrated head unit on the dashboard and see what artist the man is listening to. "...You listen to Zack Fox?"

"Yeah, I was listening to his songs on my way here! You know his song Marinate?" And before you could answer, the white-haired man sang along to the lyrics. To your perplexity, you just watch him rap along with the artist and the outlandish lyrics. And he just keeps going until the transition to the second verse. "Funny, right?"

"You know," you shake your head at Gojo, whose grin goes wider. "I was about to fall for you until you started rapping the lyrics."

"Whaaaat, he's a comedian, it's meant to be funny!"

"Whatever. Let's just hurry and get this date over with."

"Oh, sounds like someone's ready to be wined and dined by me." He starts the car and shifts between gears. "Don't rush things, princess. Good things come to those who wait."

"Just drive!"

Gojo laughs at your complaints as he drives off on the street. You playfully groan to yourself at your date's antics, looking out to the window to watch your surroundings move past your line of sight.

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"Ever since high school, I would eat a pack of gummies anytime I was doing homework because it stimulates my brain and helps me focus. So by the time college came around, I got so used to eating sweets that I naturally started liking them." Gojo took a sip of his milkshake. "But then, when my best friend and I went to our first house party, I had my first drink. And, Y/n."

"Oh God, what?"

"The taste was so bad that I tried downing it all in one chug. Well, that came back to bite my ass — and my best friend got the worst of it."

"Gojo, what did you do?"

"He was sitting down on a couch talking to someone, and I was behind the couch feeling all squeamish. So, before I could stop myself, I barfed on his hair!"

"Oh, my God, No!!" And the two of you roar in laughter and bang on the booth table you were sitting at.

The date was at an old, vibrant diner in the city where Gojo is a regular customer; the cozy and welcoming atmosphere had you erase any anxious feelings about this date and feel a little more confident. You and Gojo took things slow, you talking about your summer internship and him of his job as a high school teacher.

The conversation started the topic of summer break came to play, prompting you to talk more about yourself and your friends. That flipped the switch entirely as you became more open about your friends and their goofiness. And as a goofy man, Gojo was intrigued with your stories and had him reminiscent of memories from his youth. Although, you've come to find out that Gojo takes his playful nature to a whole other level, and it's been having you two laugh about said foolishness for the past hour.

"The funny thing is, right, he was talking to this sophomore girl that was eyeing him up the whole time we were there," Gojo says through wheezes. "And he was finally talking to this chick, and she was really getting into him. I didn't mean to intrude on his parade or anything, but as my best friend, you're supposed to help me through thick and thin. I was going to ask if it was okay if I headed to the dorm alone while he stayed at this party. And then, vomit happened."

"Ewww, you terrible friend!" You try to eat a fry from your meal, but your giggles make dining difficult. "No wonder he pranked you with a weed brownie."

"Jokes on him; I still nailed my presentation for my exam. I don't remember saying anything I said, but I take pride in whatever I did to get that A." He takes a big bite of his burger and swallows before saying more. "And I started seeing the sophomore girl he talked to afterward, so checkmate."

You gasp at the information and throw a piece of your food at him, which he effortlessly catches with his hand and eats. "You petty bastard! I'm on your friend's side all the way."

"No regrets!" He hits you with his annoying chuckle that has you smiling hard, and the light above your table makes his dark sunglasses shine chicly.

"Oh, yeah?" You inquire. "I bet I could make you regret it."

The man on the other side of the booth scoffs. "Is that so? And how are you gonna do that, my pretty princess?"

You didn't think he'd buy your bluff. So, the truth is, you had no idea of how'd you punish the snow-haired man. Looking around the diner, you scope for anything that sparks a concept. You then turn to his side and notice a booth at the far end. A woman was laughing with her friends and sipping on a cocktail, making a slightly sour face after taking a drink.

And then it hits, along with a sneer, and you peer back to your date.

"You don't like alcohol, right?" He quirks up a brow at your question. "How many times have you had a drink in your life?"

"Three or four."

"Well then, I dare you to drink three or four cocktails. No milkshake or water to help you get through. Just the ice cubes in the drink."

White brows furrow, and even if the shades block them from your interpretation, you can tell Gojo is studying your face in deep thought with your so-called punishment. Ten seconds go by before he scoffs again. "I'll take up on that. On one condition," he leans back on the booth seat. "You have to take the drinks with me as well."

Now it's your turn to raise a brow and think about his words. "You're paying for the drinks."

"Done deal." He pulls his hand outward to you, initiating a handshake to set the seal in stone before continuing on with this game of yours. You happily shake his hand, commencing the punishment to officially start.

One cocktail was a breeze for you but a bit of a doozy for Gojo to stomach; you had to warn him that if he barfed on you, you'd ditch him and block him for life. Two cocktails in is when you begin feeling tingly. Your date was going through it halfway into the glass, so you had to compromise that a glass of water was needed for him.

Three cocktails in, and you undoubtedly feel the alcohol hit you behind its sweet and tangy facade. You can hardly look at the drink, same with Gojo. You two look at each other and shake your heads in disagreement, pushing the glasses to the side and groaning with your now-drunk selves.

Gojo is the first to say something. "As far as disciplines go, that was, without a doubt, one of the worst things I've had to endure."

You giggle. "Honestly. But I—hic! Excuse me. I bet you're regretting throwing up on your friend's hair now. I did it for his sake, after all."

He only looks at you through his glasses. He then gets up from his side of the booth and walks to yours, and you scoot over to let him have a seat. "Nah, don't regret it one bit. Because if I hadn't done it, I wouldn't have you over here laughing and suffering in alcohol with me about it." He maneuvers his hand to rest on your shoulder, and you allow him to move closer to you. "Wouldn't be spending this fun evening with you."

Your eyes hesitantly venture up to his face, welcoming you to the tension that builds up with the lighting and soft music of the diner. His hand rubs on your shoulder in a comforting manner, a gesture you take note of even under the influence. "You know, since you're enjoying having me and all, don't you think I should have a reward for doing your punishment with you."

"And what reward do you have in mind?"

"Can I see them?" You use a finger to motion your own pair of eyes, resulting in the snow-haired man in a short chuckle. But he doesn't argue with you and uses his free hand to remove his shades.

Icy blue is the first thing that comes to mind when you look at his eyes. His orbs are a rarity to the usual crowd, yet they go perfectly with his peachy complexion and pale hair. His orbs hooded and honed in on your figure, appearing soft because of the slight rosy shade of pink on his cheeks. You take in every single feature of his face before speaking.

"Well, I'm starting to see why so many people fall for you, Mr. Gojo." Your face goes hot with the sudden confidence that sneaks within you, yet you continue. "You're very attractive."

He chortles at your comment. "Thanks, dollface. But I don't think it's fair that you only get a reward from me. After all, I almost drowned in alcohol."

You hum. "Fair enough. What would you like?"

His face doesn't change with the following sentence he utters, but you take note of the slight squeeze on your shoulder. "A kiss from the princess would sure warm my heart."

Brows draw upward and breath hitches. A kiss? On the first date? On a blind date?

You don't know what possessed you to do this — it might have been the cocktails. But you incline your face to his and move forwards, your plump lips land on his soft ones for a simple kiss. And with the low hum of his voice, you place another. And another.

When you remove yourself from him, his eyes open to meet yours. A smile gets broader, and so does yours. "You taste sweet," you say.

"So do you." His fingers toy with the strap of your cami top. "Kinda want to kiss you more. And, you know, do a little more, only if you're up for it."

You give him a look. "I believe I just gave you a reward after receiving yours."

"I know, I know," he raises his other hand defensively, but he doesn't remove his smirk. "That's why it's up to you."

You only look at him as he waits for your answer. You already kissed the man; what more is supposed to happen on a blind date? Thoughts on what to do are carefully calculated in your mind, remembering the reason why you're even on this date in the first place. Without Nobara's stupid bet, none of this would be conspiring. Yet simultaneously, it's not like you were having a terrible time. If anything, it was quite the opposite. Not once did you feel uncomfortable around Gojo's presence or feel the need to call off the date. Just enjoying his company and character that attracts you to him more. Even if it means spending the entire night with him.

I'm already deep into this night. What's the use of stopping now.

"So?" Your eyes peer up and down on his figure. "What does 'a little more' entail?"

One moment you and Gojo were enjoying each other's company at a diner, then the date was moved to a different location the next. Now you and the white-haired man are in a cozy hotel nearby. You expressed your worries about Gojo driving you two to the new spot as he still had alcohol in his system. But your complaints fell on deaf ears as he persuaded you into trusting him ("Don't worry, it's like three streets away! Plus, it's almost midnight. No one's on the street." "If you crash us into a pole or something, don't ever ask to talk to me again." "Duly noted~" )

The two of you got yourself into a small hotel room. Soft lighting from the lamps bathes nude bodies lying on the comfortable queen-sized. You mount on top of Gojo, a makeout session warming the two of you up with the exchange of body heat. Sucking and biting each other's lips, his big hand at the back of your neck to deepen the kiss, and the grind of your hips on his firm erection makes the throbbing sensation between your legs flourish with your slick painting him.

His kisses trail down to your neck, and you allow him to venture below your clavicle. Pillowy lips pepper your chest and eventually find your breasts, taking a hardened nipple into his warm mouth.

A sharp cry exits your mouth when Gojo lightly teases your nipple with his teeth. "Mmmm! G-Gojo, pleaseee, I want it," your words come out in whimpers, your body quivering as your cunt brushes against his erect cock shielded by a rubber.

"Is that so, dollface?" He coos at your pleas, his hand running up and down the cusp of your ass and slender fingers teasing your aching entrance every time they draw nearer. "Then go on, ride on my dick like you want to."

His permission has your face go hot, but you station your hands on his chest to propel you upwards, admiring the view of him below you for a moment before lifting your ass. He moves his hands behind his head to relax, signaling you to do the work yourself and at your own pace. And with that, you do.

Your bottom raises until you position the tip of his shaft on the squish lips of your folds. Your breath hitches at the contact of his glans. His smooth voice coaxes you. "Relax, sweet thing. Take your time." You take a few moments to even your breathing and mentally prep you for your following actions. Hips gradually go down and push the cockhead further between your folds. Entry is prompted through the pain with every breath, and a sharp gasp lets you know that his girth finally enters you. And Gojo moans as well.

"Hmmm, that's it." He comments sweetly, his blue orbs tracing the union of your sexes. His hands now snake to your hips, and he throws his head back on the pillow under him. "Ready when you are, princess."

When you're ready, you move your hips downward to take in more of his member, the size of him widening your folds to accommodate the foreign limb intruding inside your vulva. His curve nudging your inner walls has your legs quake, and you concentrate on not being hasty and taking his cock all in one go. So once you finally meet the base, you exhale shaky and use a few seconds for your body to adjust.

Knowing you have the reins, you start to move. You start off with a slow speed, letting the feeling of his dick rub your walls in a steady position. Your whining is muffled with the bite of your lip, but not the man below you. He proudly expresses his pleasure in his moans, the hold on your hips getting tighter.

"Haaahhh, so good and tight," Gojo purrs, egging you to dial up your tempo. He notices you biting the bottom of your lip, and he chuckles. "Come on, baby. I wanna hear that cute voice of yours. Lemme hear it all." He then surprises you with a sudden thrust, evoking a choked cry from puffy lips.

You get the memo then and just let the pornographic noises fly, every moan getting higher and louder with the pace of your hips. His length drilling within you with each intake, and you lean forward for your clitoris to stimulate with the friction, causing you to jerk. You can't tell if it's because of the sex or the cocktails from hours ago making your nerves so sensitive and tender. But in any case, it makes you feel so good right now.

And when you lean back, the feeling gets even more ecstatic, resulting in more mewls from you. His dick goes even further than before, grazing your sweet spots and walls with precision with your increased speed. You swerve your hips in circles, having the man groan. To counter, his hand snakes down to your clitoris to play and pinch on, and you scream.

"Ahhhnn! Haaaah, Gojo! It feels so," the sounds of your ass smacking on his things are now apparent to the ears. The raunchy squelching noises of your cunt embarrass you; however, you can't deny the grip your cunt has on his cock with every rock. Your mind slowly descends into a dreamy haze. "Nnnmph!! Feels too goood, wanna commme..."

He opens his eyes to look at you; the erotic display of your nude body bouncing on his shaft turns him on even more. "Yeah, wanna come with me?" You nod lazily, earning another chortle from the man beneath you. "Alright, stay still for me."

It takes you aback when he suddenly moves up from the bed, sitting with his legs crossed under your ass and his handsome face too close to yours. You instinctively avert your gaze away from the frosty-headed other, bashfully turning your face to the side. It amuses him, guiding your face back to him with his hand. "Hehe, don't be scared of me, angel. I wanna see that beautiful face of yours."

Again, you can't tell whether or not it's the effect of the alcohol, but your face and ears go uncomfortably hot at his compliments. And now that his face is so close to yours, you can clearly take in his features. His sky-blue eyes were extremely fixated with yours, softly hooded with the flutter of his snow eyelids and in contrast with his rosy cheeks. Your heart skips a beat. What is with this beautiful motherfucker?! "Stop flirting with me in the middle of this..."

He laughs at your sheepishness, kissing your cheek. "Flirting with you is what got you here in the first place, baby. Now," his hands slither down your ass, squeezing the flesh with his fingers. "I'm gonna start moving — get ready."

He waits for you to wrap your arms around his neck and lift yourself from his legs before he begins moving his pelvis. The rash jabs of his cock leave you gasping for air and clasping around him. He hisses to your ear with his arms now wrapped around your back as he brings up the rhythm of his hips. You're now forced to bounce onto his crossed legs, his dick scraping your insides deliciously so that you can't think properly.

It's now that everything feels better than before; his member now achieving deeper penetration to the point of hitting your G-spot accurately with the underside of him. You no longer try to suppress the sounds leaving your lips, your wails bringing life to the hotel room. And Gojo's moans get louder and louder when your legs slither around him, and your ass matches the climbing cadence.

"Oooooh, fuck, Gojo! Shit, shit—Mmaah!!" With every rut to your cunt, you can feel the pounding of your head get louder and louder. "Oh, Christ, it feels tew good, so gooood...!!"

"Hnngh, mmmnph!!" Gojo groans at the pleasure, placing his sweaty forehead on yours. His eyes survey your certified expression caused by his touch. He chuckles, "You look so cute jumping on my cock like this. Such a pretty angel."

Timid by his words, you shift your face onto his shoulder to shield away from his line of sight. "Haaaah, stop saying stuff like that—Ahhhhhnnn!!"

You shriek when two fingers come down to your clitoris, the digits swiping and pinching the tender bud. "Hiding away from me again, huh, dollface?" He continues to mess with your clit ensuing in choked mewls and tears streaming down your face, and his hips increase in speed.

Your brain is a mushy mess, fighting the right to form coherent sentences. His fingers go at a hurried pace, abusing your clit. You're so close. Almost there. "Ahhh! Ahhhhh! Go-Gojo, pleaseee, I'm gonna cum—Hmmm!! Ahhaaaaaa!!!"

The peak hits you hard like a train, your body shaking uncontrollably on Gojo and his cock, the walls of your cunt fluttering beautifully on his length. And the contraction pushes him to release, his essence captured in the condom to prevent a spill.

Pants and groans fill the hot space between you two, and Gojo kisses your shoulder as the shockwaves die down with every passing second. A wave of calm covers your body while exhaustion crawls up your spine. You lift your head from his shoulder, and he's met with the most beautiful dazed expression he's ever seen.

"Heh, I should drink with you more often if it means I see you like this." He kisses your nose, and you smile.

"Oh, shut up," you remark breathlessly, and your lips meet his. He kisses you without hesitation, bringing you with him as he lies back on the bed. The sounds of his lips smacking with yours fill the room with a romantic glow, and it stays that way even when slumber claims you both.

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You're woken up by some sort of light on your eyelids and the sound of birds chirping. With a few blinks, your eyes open and are met with the sun's glaring rays peeking through the blind of the hotel window. Begrudgingly, you rise from the mattress and stretch your fatigued limbs. A massive headache greets your head without your consent, pounding it like a drum. The sheet above you slips from your figure, and you find out you slept bare nude.

Too flustered for exhaustion to take control, you grab the sheet to cover your chest, afraid that someone would've seen. The headache vanishes into thin air as you whip and search the room. But there's no one here? And you then notice the blue flannel on the side next to you. The side of the man you were on a date with.

Wait? I was with Gojo last night, right? Questions of the night prior finally come to you. Okay, wait, we went to that diner. Then we had those cocktails, which was a bad idea on my part. So what else? Oh. We kissed. Yeah...we kissed...then I got in his car and drove to this hotel room, and then...And then we.....we—

Unable to complete that thought, a sudden click catches your attention, whipping your head to the hotel door to see it open. And there he is.

Gojo enters the room with his clothes back on, his white tee and black jeans. His shades now block the beautiful eyes you had seen last night — perhaps it was a fever dream, imagining that you did see them. He's holding a paper cup, which you could only assume was tea or coffee. When he notices you, he greets you with a smile.

"Well, good morning, sunshine~" his tone gets chipper the closer he walks to the bed. Placing the cup on the bedside before grabbing for his flannel. "I brought you some tea since I'm sure your throat is sore from last night," your face heats up at the comment. "Plus, I didn't want to leave you empty-handed before I head out."

You blink at him. "You're leaving?"

"Yeah, sorry about that. Remember my friend I told you about last night?" You nod at him while he ties his blue clothing around his waist. "He texted me earlier, saying something came up with one of our other closer friends, and they need my help. He tried calling me, so I had to leave the room to let you sleep."

You hum at his confession. "I see..." How considerate.

"Hey," He climbs on the bed to be close to you. "Sorry that I can't take you back home or treat you to breakfast or something. Maybe next time."

Now that he's close to you like this, you can make out the implications of his eyes behind his dark sunglasses, blue orbs honed in on you and you alone. Your cheeks gradually go warm. "Next time?" You didn't mean for it to be a whisper, too entranced to notice.

He chuckles at your comment, and you swear your heart's beating irregularly. "Yeah, princess. I'd love to see you next time." He draws closer to kiss your forehead, and it takes every nerve in your body to not melt then and there. He then removes himself from the bed, the dent returning to normal now that his weight is off.

Gojo straightens himself and turns away from you. "Alright, I'm off. I'll leave my hotel card by the door. Text me if you need money for an Uber, 'kay?" You hear the door open. "Be good, ya hear!?" He shouts to you from the other side of the room, practically already in the hallway.

"Same to you!" You reply back in the same manner.

"No promises~." And with that comes the sound of the door closing, confirming your isolation in the now quiet hotel room. You're left to properly rekindle everything that led you up to this point, yet even then, you feel so at a loss.

As far as blind dates go — or dates in general — it's safe to say that this was the most bizarre one you've had. Not because anything dire happened. And that's probably the reason why it felt so surreal. You came into this date to release yourself from the shackles of a bet, knowing that you wouldn't see the end of it from your friend if you didn't take care of it with haste.

Nevertheless, thanks to Gojo, it didn't feel like a bet. Not at all. It felt like an actual, fun date with a new person. With a great person at that. Not once did you express any uncomfortable feelings or ill will towards Gojo. And if you did, you're sure he tended to your worries without your knowing.

"I'd love to see you next time."

His words ring in your ear once more, and they resume to do so when you exit from the bed to grab your bag on the chair next to you. You grasp the most necessary item inside — your diary — and sit at the hotel room desk to document your concluding statements appropriately.

...What happened last night was something that I had no vision of seeing. So, now that it did happen, I just feel a little...empty? Probably because I took care of Nobara's bet and don't have to worry about going on another date again.

But, deep down, a part of me wants to do it all again — Not with just anyone, but with him. What we shared yesterday was one of the most refreshing days I've had all summer. Although he was a bit childish for his mature age, maybe that made me like him even more. He was kind to me, funny, and, dare I say, an attractive guy, both in personality and physical appearance.

Thanks for the date, Satoru Gojo. And if you wish to see me again, any time at any place, know that my heart will accept with glee.

˚₊‧꒰ა Bonus ☆ Scene!! ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Gojo exits the hotel room and walks down the hall to the elevator, whistling a tune that only he could understand. He presses the button to summon the machine to his floor, and it comes in a few seconds with the soft ding to mark its risen state. And before Gojo could fully get inside, he sensed his phone vibrating in his right jean pocket.

He grabs for it and stops whistling, tapping on the green call button and placing the device to his ear as the elevator doors close. "Morning, you man-bunned prick."

"It's midday, you blue-eyed sheep." A voice comes from the other side of his phone. "Judging by how you didn't know that, you went out last night, didn't you?"

"That's none of your business~," the white-haired man says in a sing-song manner.

"Shut the hell up~," The one on the phone returns the sentiment. "It's not like I don't know practically every person you screwed in the streets with."

The elevator door opens to the main floor, and Gojo exits to head for the entrance. "Yeah, yeah. I will say this: I had a great time with them."

"You say this about everyone who opens their legs for you."

Gojo sucks his teeth. "Well, this one really had me enjoying myself from start to finish. They were fun to be around. Shit, they even made me drink alcohol."

"Really? And you didn't barf on the spot?"

"Fuck off, Suguru." The one from the phone line — now named Suguru — chuckled at the curse thrown his way. Gojo walks out to the parking lot and enters his car. The phone call is transferred to the car's Bluetooth when the engine starts. "I don't know...They were just great to be around, ya know? Haven't had that in a while."

Suguru hums, vibrating the car with the bass systems. "Think you wanna hang with them again?"

"Mmmmm, I'd like to."

The one on the phone chuckles. "Well, don't get to whipped. Especially since you promised to be at Shoko's beach house this month, we don't want you canceling on us again because someone scheduled you for a dick appointment."

Gojo smirks at the comment. "Yeah, I won't. You'll see me." A few seconds of silence follow through until Suguru asks another question to his friend.

"So? How was the sex this time around?"

With a twinge to his lips, Gojo snickers to himself from reminiscing about the events of last night.

"Man, let me tell you..."

Poor guy too whipped for her 😆 love it

Supercharged | JJK

Chapter 13: One Of Us

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🗲summary: It starts with a blow to the chest that changes your life. When your city’s most celebrated hero pays a visit, it turns out the noble Bolt has no trouble tossing lives aside. Lives that won't be missed. Lives like yours. Seven mysterious and powerful men give you another chance – one that starts to feel more like a curse the moment you meet golden boy Jungkook. The boy who wants you as far from his brothers as he can get you. Is it you he hates, or the blue lightning that now runs through your veins? And could it be his golden light that illuminates your heart when darkness threatens? 🗲this chapter: Jungkook doesn’t seem to be angry for the reasons you expected.

🗲pairing: jungkook x female reader 🗲word count: 5.7k 🗲genre: angst, action, eventual fluff, enemies to lovers, slow burn, superheroes/villains au, found family 🗲rating: pg15 🗲warnings: violence with superpowers, swearing, injuries, blood, more guilt and self-doubt, past parental death

a/n: something about jungkook skidding a 180 to stop his bike and just running into the storm.... yeah🥵

A faint knock disturbed Jungkook.

Half-standing from where he had been sat rigid on his bed, he found himself facing Jimin. The other man peeped sheepishly around the door, head dipped apologetically.

Although Jungkook didn’t want to scare his hyung, it was impossible to shake the tension from his frame. The venomous exchange with you still ran hot through his veins. He did feel somewhat responsible for dispelling the group with his foul mood when he had returned upstairs. Maybe they had gathered up and saw fit to invite him again?

It was probably what he needed, even if he didn’t feel particularly sociable right now – so long as you weren’t there. He could do without a reminder…

“Have you seen Y/N?”

Eyes snapping back to Jimin, Jungkook’s brows twitched irritably.

“No,” he shot, incredulous.

At Jimin’s slight wince, Jungkook did feel a bit guilty and swallowed away some of his attitude.

“Okay, I didn’t think so…”

Still, Jimin hovered there biting his lip instead of leaving. He took a breath and eyed Jungkook carefully again.

“But you guys… spoke, right?” Jungkook’s brow raised. That was a generous way to put it. Jimin pressed on, “where did she go after?”

Jungkook straightened up fully.

“I don’t know…” he blinked, confused, frown rapidly clearing to be replaced with apprehension. “Why?”

Jimin’s hand curled tighter around the door. He dropped his eyes before speaking.

“We just… can’t find her right now.”

Jungkook’s face screwed up, uncomprehending.

“What do you mean you can’t find her?”

“Yah, Jimin-ah,” a call stole both men’s attention.

Stepping further into Jungkook’s room, Jimin made way for Yoongi to stride in. The older man stopped, looking to Jungkook.

“Do you know where she is?”

“No!”

Yoongi breathed out steadily, then turned to Jimin. Dipping his chin, his next tone was quieter, making Jungkook strain to catch it.

“The training rooms are clear. Jin’s lab, too.”

Huffing quietly, Jimin shifted on restless feet. Suddenly looking up, he decided to keep questioning Jungkook.

“What did you guys even talk about? What did you say to her?”

Jungkook’s head was spinning. Had you seriously gone missing? Would you have left? He thought his heart dropped enough at the notion that he could have driven you out with his words-

Until the next thought crossed his mind with terrifying clarity.

Oh. Oh.

“Shit.”

All eyes snapped to Jungkook, who stared ahead without seeing. For a moment, they held their breath with him.

Then he blinked rapidly, shutting his gaping mouth.

“She’s gone after him.”

It was Jimin and Yoongi’s turn to gape.

“What?” Jimin shook his head, blinking.

“She’s really not here?” Jungkook reiterated.

Yoongi shook his head.

Jungkook’s only response was a decisive step forwards, walking between the others, who backed out of his way, startled.

“She’s gone after Monsoon?” Jimin echoed as he passed, his voice a hollow whisper.

Equally horrified, Yoongi stared at Jungkook.

“Is she mental?”

Jungkook cocked his head but didn’t stop, only looking over his shoulder in the doorway.

“You hadn’t noticed?”

Carving a beeline through the space, Jungkook drew the eyes of the rest of the group that stood nervously around the space. Even Namjoon was there. Hobi was still looking around, as if he might find you under one of the sofa cushions if he just looked hard enough.

Scurrying after him, Jimin offered an explanation after Jungkook stayed stubbornly quiet.

“He says she’s run off to… to Monsoon.”

Namjoon’s head snapped around to Jungkook.

“She told you that?”

“You think she would tell any of us if that was her plan?” Jungkook retorted, without looking around. He was bending down to observe something below the counter.

“What-? she wouldn’t,” Jin insisted.

“Then why are there keys missing?” Jungkook straightened up.

Namjoon cursed.

“She’s walking to her death,” he then muttered, marching to the door, “we need to find her. Now.”

And so it was all action for the second time that day.

Jungkook was close behind his leader, already swinging a set of keys from his fingers. Tugging a hand roughly through his hair, his feet flew down the steps to the garage.

“And where are we meant to look?” Jin asked, rushing to catch up.

Pausing in the entrance, Namjoon locked eyes with Jungkook.

“Wherever we might find Monsoon.”

Jungkook gave a single nod.

“Alright. Hope, Jimin, with me,” Namjoon jabbed his thumb towards a car and they were off.

Jin peeled away with V and Yoongi while Jungkook forced his legs not to break into a sprint. He hot-footed it to his bike, threw a leg over and was away before any of the others.

Whizzing into the night, rain whipped about his face. Speeding through the buffeting wind forced his mind outwards, on squinting through the storm and not on you. Wherever you had got to. He prayed he wasn't right – but picturing the way you had never quit when he fought you, how you had recklessly trained even at the risk of losing control of your powers… he couldn’t see another explanation for your disappearance.

He couldn’t explain the certainty he felt about it. Didn’t want to.

So he urged his bike faster, the engine roaring below him the only comfort as it ate up the road between you.

The radio crackled through the storm, the others coordinating their destinations. Needless to say, you would be somewhere along the docks, but that didn’t narrow it down much. Jin was heading north, the others central.

Jungkook never responded, his original intentions unchanged.

At the first opportunity, he turned towards the river. He ditched his bike right at the end of the docks, where the concrete became earth banks again. Hardly caring to park it, he only left it upright by sheer luck as he took off running the moment the engine cut.

The storm was thicker here, rain slicing his vision. Blundering on, frustration knotted tighter within him at each stretch of empty paving. Dark shapes loomed, but each was just a piece of machinery, or another container dotted about between the floodlighting.

His heart jolted dangerously at a sound from the radio.

“We’re definitely on the right track,” Namjoon spoke, “the car’s here.”

Somehow that didn’t make Jungkook feel any better. An abandoned car, an abandoned dockyard… where were you?

One more look back, just in case, before he rounded the next large container, impatient eyes roving the desolate scene. It was as he stepped into the light on the other side that a rogue wave was thrown against the bank some way ahead. The slap of water and fountain of spray drew his eyes. Flecks caught the floodlight and rained back to earth in a shower of gold, before the wave was beaten back by the same wind that coaxed it up.

A gust pushed damp hair into Jungkook’s eyes. He brushed it back, eyes fixed on the same spot.

Where the river retreated, something remained.

Heart plummeting like a stone, his vision tunnelled, only seeing the path to you.

His feet moved before his thoughts. Racing towards the body slumped on the ground. No, no, no…

Then, movement. Slowly, you brought your elbows up, palms pushing you from the ground. One hand stayed there, steadying, as you clumsily got your legs below you.

Standing with trepidation, you hardly had time to look around before Jungkook was on you.

He ran to you without slowing, grabbed you, his rough hands finding your arms, wide eyes scanning you intensely. One hand held you steady, but the other shifted instantly to your face.

“Have you lost your mind?!”

Breathless, you simply stared at the man in front of you. No answer found its way to your lips even when his eyes flicked up to meet yours. They burned, but not in a way you were used to. Fear and disbelief blazed brightest in his gaze.

The fingertips at your jaw shook. His thumb hovered on your cheekbone, where blood wept from the cut, diluted in spots by the rain.

His gaze swooped back down to eye it, thumb finally making careful contact with your cold skin. Next, he found the gash above your eye. His jaw tightened, but his severe grip eased to a something gentler at your shoulder.

After the last hellish moments, it felt all too good to be held within his hands.

Meeting your eyes again, he suddenly blinked. Pulled back minutely, as if startled.

As mild mortification took over his features, his touch lightened on your arm, but didn’t disappear. His hand lifted from your face, and for a moment he stared in horror at the bloodied digits.

Then he dropped it, looking sharply back up at you.

Before he could make his last ditch effort to save face and step back completely, he felt you sag into his hand. With the shock of your most blatant injuries wearing off, he tuned into the way you shivered, out of breath, and cradled one arm closer to you.

“What the hell were you thinking-? What did he do to you?”

Jungkook’s heated tone wore off halfway through the questions.

Giving in, he stepped closer, raising a hesitant arm on your other side. Still breathing a little too fast, you latched onto it without a thought, grasping his elbow to lean on, panting.

Even through your exhaustion, cold shame permeated you. You couldn’t meet his eyes.

“I couldn’t get it back,” you admitted.

Jungkook frowned down at you incredulously, even though you didn’t see.

“And you’re insane for trying,” he muttered, already twisting to scan the area you found yourselves in.

Releasing the hand on your shoulder but keeping the arm which bore your weight, he steered you both towards the nearest shipping container.

“We’re going home, alright?”

It hardly sounded like a question.

More wobbly on your feet than you were ready to admit, you followed without protest despite your confusion. Jungkook should be throwing you to the curb! This was your second failure of the day. Your whiplash only increased when you stopped in the relative shelter of a container and Jungkook shook one arm from his jacket.

The river had chilled you, but it wasn’t only the temperature difference that burned when his hand touched yours. He eased your fingers from him for a moment, just long enough to slip off his other sleeve.

It was only then that he hesitated, glancing at the jacket in his hand, and then at you, a little shaken.

He didn’t look you in the eyes as he slung it around you at last. But his pretence at concentrating on fixing it around your shoulders was disrupted at a hiss from you.

You bit your lip, but it was too late. Jungkook pulled back, eyes zeroing in on the slash through your sodden top, hanging away from the bloody cut beneath. Then to the wrist you hurriedly shielded with your other hand.

“Hey,” he murmured, “let me see.”

Before you could convince yourself to object, tentative fingertips were gingerly sliding up your waterlogged sleeve to reveal the deep bruising there, patterned by the sole of Monsoon's boot.

Pure worry filled Jungkook's eyes and he gulped. It was too much for you to look at.

“Thank you,” you murmured, tugging at the heavenly warm jacket and ignoring the sting.

Jungkook nodded absently.

“We’ll wait here… Do you need to sit down?”

Neither of you were meeting the other’s eyes. You chewed your cheek. As much as you wished you could stand strong and prove to Jungkook that you had any respectability left, your legs were not on the same page.

You sank to the ground, grip on Jungkook slipping away. Your frozen hands retreated to the warmth inside his jacket instead.

Only letting his eyes linger on you for a moment, Jungkook forced his gaze to the churning river as he finally remembered his radio. It was hopeless really; he only got as far as lifting the device to his mouth before his eyes were back on you. You were too static, hunched into yourself. The only movement was the creeping of droplets from your hair down his jacket.

This was not what you were. Quiet and surrender were not things that went together with the girl he knew.

Had he done this?

“Hey, hyungs–” so lost in thought, he surprised himself when he spoke “–I found her.”

The response was instant.

“Thank fu-”

“Hey, you really got her?”

“Where are you guys?”

Quickly sending over the location, Jungkook eyed you again. You hadn’t reacted to anything going on around you.

“Hey, I think she needs to go back in the car,” he added quietly.

He pocketed his radio. Then instantly regretted it. Now he was at a loss for what to do with his hands, and he hesitated between staying standing or sitting beside you. Opting for the latter, he purposely tore his eyes from you to lessen the effect.

Stiffening as he lowered himself to your side, you glanced over at him. The floodlighting looked gold on his cheeks, his skin glowing with the sheen of rain coating his face. It only made you feel duller in comparison.

Unable to resist the insistent feeling of your eyes on him, Jungkook finally glanced back.

You sucked in a breath, shoulders raising. Your gaze was all too nervous, watching him warily. And though you were clearly soaked to the bone, he wasn’t sure all the water on your face was from the river and not your own eyes.

The strength of your remorse removed all words you could have used to express it.

I’m so sorry… You sounded pathetic even in your head. Was there anything you could say to Jungkook to make what you had done better?

The warmth of him beside you was already more than you deserved.

Jungkook’s hands were sandwiched between his knees, carefully leaving a space between the two of you. But the longer he looked, his limbs acted almost by themselves. He pinched his lip between his teeth, but didn’t falter. Pulling one hand free, he crossed the no-man’s land. Towards the blood he couldn’t bear to see there, where it cascaded into your eye, one drop outlining your jaw.

The back of his fingers drew closer. When they met your cheek, running steadily upwards to wipe the bleeding, you could have cried. Holding your breath, you gave in and closed your eyes. It shouldn’t feel so… intimate, but the drag of his hand was too visceral to ignore.

Light behind your eyelids made you snap them open again. And then squint.

Blaring headlights swung around, illuminating your momentary hiding spot.

Jungkook’s warmth retreated, leaving you with only the heat of your own blood spilling over your face.

Straightening up, you heard an engine cut out and doors slam. You were still struggling up from the floor when the guys reached you.

“Are you okay?” Hope was the first to ask.

Then Jimin’s hand was on your shoulder. Namjoon emerged behind them.

“Glad we found you,” he said.

Blinking uselessly at each of them gathering around you, your throat was totally uncooperative. You parted your lips, but gave up just as Jin completed your group. Looking you up and down, he tried to ease the tension with a chuckle.

“Wow, you look like you came from the river!” he joked, until his face fell a second later. “…wait- did you-?”

All you could do was stare, too distracted to answer him. What were they all doing here? After what you had done, they came after you?

You should have hated it. You were sorely ashamed, bowing your head under the weight of their concern. But somewhere deep down, you weren’t surprised. Back there in the river, you had dared to hope they would come for you, like they always did. Like you would for them.

But you felt incredibly small for having to count on them nonetheless.

Unconsciously, your feet took you a step back, closer to Jungkook. Shrinking away from the overwhelming tide of emotions you weren’t prepared to face yet.

“I think we all just want to get home,” Jimin smiled softly.

Namjoon nodded, the first to turn away, lessening the glare of the spotlight you felt on you in the centre.

“Yoongi’s going to take the other car,” he said.

Good – you had completely forgotten you had driven here at all. Everything was a blur between your consecutive fights with Jungkook and Monsoon.

Just as you were beginning to debate which one had stung more, a soft hand in yours tugged you from your mind again. Looking up, you found V quietly pulling you along towards a car. He didn’t meet your eyes. Your throat felt tight again at such a simple act guiding you when you needed it.

Blindly following your friend, you glanced back once more. Jungkook’s eyes were already on you, unreadable.

“See you back home.”

Then he dipped his head, slipping past you into the storm.

Your tired body had clearly clocked out on the drive home, finally able to sink into yourself in the silence of the car. You had to admit you felt a bit bad for Jin, who loved to talk. Being stuck in a car with you while you were practically too ashamed to speak, and V who was always quiet, must have made it a long journey.

He got a few words out of you. Honestly, you felt obliged to answer his questions. You owed him – owed them all – some honesty.

If you had to say anything unprompted, though, you were sure all you would muster up was repeated apologies. You felt the heat of them frenetic beneath your skin. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

When you arrived, pulling in just after the other cars, only Jungkook still to follow on his bike, you realised just how drained you were. Each step felt like a balancing act as you climbed the stairs, like your legs weren’t quite attached to you.

“So you remembered Monsoon’s base just from seeing the maps way back?” Jin carried on the conversation you hardly registered having, “no wonder Kuyang had you as his secretary. Too bad, we’ve got you now!”

Those words cracked through your distracted haze. As he left you with a pat on the back, you stared after him.

Had he not seen what had happened all day? A treacherous glimmer of hope sparked in you, as if they could still want you on the team. He must be pretending.

“Any dinner requests?” Yoongi asked from the table.

“Uh, um, I don’t mind,” you spoke quietly, “anything is good… thanks.”

Stopping in front of a chair, you never sat. The lot of them filled up the house like always, thankfully not all staring at you, but the appreciation you normally felt for the buzz of people only made you feel far away right now.

Eyes darting to your feet, you noticed the water clinging to your shoes, miniature pools left in your footsteps. Everyone was damp from the rain, but you were a different story. Your clothes clung uncomfortably, and you were suddenly aware of the constricting fabric now it pressed against your skin like this.

“I’ll just… go clean up,” you muttered, finally taking the chance to flee from the people you had wronged. The people who shouldn’t have cared enough to come pick you up from a death wish of an escapade in the middle of a storm.

Falling against the bathroom door at last, you put up with the soggy clothing for a moment longer, needing a pause. Head resting back against the wood, you breathed. Closed your eyes, felt your hands shaking.

Then you pushed away. A spurt of energy had you ridding yourself of your clothes in a hurry, tugging free of the fabric weighted down with cursed water.

Hurling them into the bathtub, you grabbed a towel next and sunk into it. The soft fabric felt like a dream, from somewhere warm where you hadn’t made such a terrible mistake.

When you pulled away, it was bloodstained.

Shoulders drooping, you continued to dry yourself without looking at it. Nor did you want to look at yourself in the mirror. Somehow, you would have to attempt a fix for the wounds you had just acquired, which pulled and stung as you twisted to dry your back. Gritting your teeth, you kept at it. You didn’t really know what you should do, and were mainly counting on your powers to heal them up fast, but you weren’t about to trouble any of the others for help. They had done enough.

You turned next to a stack of dry clothes.

It was as a sweater dropped over your eyes that someone knocked.

The sound wasn’t soft. Only hesitating for a moment, you gave in and found the person on the other side just as decisive as his knock.

Jungkook stood with his arms folded. Expectant.

Your poked your head out, looked at him warily.

He had enough of your waiting and tugged his arms free, pulling the door open and marching inside.

The breath caught in your chest as you backed up, bracing yourself. He would be right to chew you out right now. He had been right earlier too, you saw that now-

“We could have lost you!”

Your eyes were fixed on him. Couldn’t look away, couldn’t even blink.

You thought you had been prepared, but the fierceness of his tone took even you off-guard. Not to mention the words it was paired with. You hadn’t expected that. But as they sunk in, they brought your heart down with them.

“Isn’t that what you wanted?” your voice was quiet, but perfectly clear in the confined space.

His eyes only hardened.

“Don’t talk like that.”

While his eyes pierced you, his tone was less abrasive. If you hadn’t known better, it would almost have sounded like begging.

It even succeeded in making you shut up for a short time. But you forced your jaw to cooperate, breathed in.

“But… but I-” sighing roughly, you dropped your gaze to the side. Glared at yourself in the mirror. “I fucked up. I ruined it, I let Monsoon get what he-”

An abrupt step forwards cut you off. Startled, you looked up to find Jungkook snatching the first aid box from the side and stalking towards you.

“Sit down,” he instructed.

Struck dumb for the second time, you did.

He followed. He knelt down right in front of you, and started unpacking stuff from the medical kit as if this was completely normal. Or perhaps to avoid having to face that it wasn’t.

“I would say you should’ve known he would do a number on you-” Jungkook began, to which you sighed.

“I’m lucky I even made it out alive, I know, I know-”

“Hardly,” Jungkook scoffed, turning back to you with a small cloth in hand, “if it was luck, yours would have run out by now.”

You blinked. And then tried hard to avoid blinking, because he leaned forward to press the wipe above your eye.

You swallowed against the sting. Swallowed harder when his other hand lightly steadied your temple on the opposite side.

“You really think I’m good luck, after today?”

A self-depreciating downward tilt dragged at your lips.

Jungkook, on the other hand, chuckled. It was brief, but it was there, a joyful quirk of his mouth.

“No.”

Your heart shouldn’t have sunk at his agreement.

His eyes flicked to yours, then away again as he focussed on his task. But he surprised you, and spoke again.

“I thought you were good luck before today.”

Though your mouth opened, you found all words had been robbed from you. Now, with your staring, he refused to catch your gaze again.

Resigned to not understanding him at all, you shut your mouth and sat in the silence for another minute. He changed cloths, chucking a now-red one away and moving on to swipe at the stickier blood that lingered on your cheek and jaw.

Somehow, in the peaceful bathroom, with his light touches on your skin, you could finally look over the recent whirlwind of events with clarity. Unfortunately, your embarrassment only burned brighter when you examined it through such a magnifying lens.

Looking hesitantly up at Jungkook as he worked, you cleared your throat.

“How did you find me?”

He spent a second longer, one more long swipe over your cheekbone, before sitting back.

“Because that’s what I would have done. If I wanted to make things right.”

“But I didn’t manage to.”

Jungkook just shrugged.

“That depends. What were you trying to prove?”

“I-I- nothing! I don’t know” – you fell forwards, elbows on knees – “I wanted to get the gun back... that’s what we lost. What you were mad about, before.”

Jungkook didn’t move away, even when you slumped closer. His face looked a little pinched.

“Sure,” he spoke, voice only loud enough to travel the short distance to you, and no further. “But it was also… I was afraid. Because I had started- no, I trusted you. I didn’t want you to throw it back in my face now that I care-”

The end of his sentence snapped into silence like bone china, but the silence after the break was deafening. Reeling from what was thrown. The echoes rang in your skull.

He removed his gaze, staring somewhere to the side.

When you finally recovered your voice your words were simple, quiet.

“I’m sorry.”

Another moment passed. You couldn’t even hear your own breathing. Only saw his chest rise as he inhaled.

Then he levelled you with a gaze. His eyes sharpened as you observed each other.

“What for?”

You swallowed, shoulders sagging, but forced yourself not to look away.

“I’ve broken it. Our trust.”

“You showed me how badly you didn’t want it to break,” he pointed out.

Slowly, your mouth opened, something leaping perilously in your chest. Denying it, you frowned.

“Does that make a difference? I still didn’t fix anything…”

Letting out a breath through his nose, Jungkook dropped his cloth into the first aid bag and folded his arms loosely.

“If you still need to prove it to me, you can tell me why, then. Why you fight.”

His head raised as he cocked his chin up. Face blank, save for the challenging glint of his eye.

Shocked, you straightened up without thinking. Drew your arms back to your sides. This may have been the first time he had given you the chance to explain yourself. The first time he had offered himself to listen.

It took you a moment to gather yourself. Or rather, to wait until you were sure he wasn’t joking. What you had to say was already there, waiting on your tongue.

“I was just a spare… I was in the way, and that was all he needed to dispose of me. And other people… aren’t so lucky. I was given another chance, somehow. I needed to do something with it. I wasn’t part of Bolt’s plot, but that shouldn’t mean I’m not allowed to have my own.”

“You’re right.”

You could only stare, a curious frown shifting your face imperceptibly when Jungkook responded so promptly.

“Other people aren’t so lucky,” he carried on, slower now. His eyes shone under the bathroom lights. “My dad–” his voice unexpectedly gave out on him. His eyes darted down, only for a second, tongue briefly wetting his lips “–my dad was a guard. We didn’t have much money, he didn’t have much choice. So he worked for the first guy who would pay him a steady salary. Then Bolt-”

Horror had well and truly sunk into your bones before Jungkook even had to stop for the second time, choking on the word. Your body felt far away again. All you could see was Jungkook’s face as he staunchly forced his lips into an even line.

“He left the boss alive,” something bitter edged Jungkook’s voice. “He’s in prison. Bolt got his trophy. He has the kind of power that means people will overlook the cost.

“I was thirteen.”

You were stunned. You could only stare at him, lips parted stupidly as what he just told you sunk in. All this time, he had looked at you the way he did because… because you were exactly what he and his dad never got. Not only did you survive Bolt, you then basically became him.

You weren’t Bolt, not by a long shot. Jungkook had made sure of that, all while trying to prove to himself that you were.

But even trying to imagine what he must have thought of you was making your head spin. It would have been easier on him to hate you.

You could hardly breathe, but words were tumbling from your mouth anyway.

“I’m so sorry. Fuck, Jungkook…”

Jungkook was looking at you again. His eyes glistened, yes, but on the surface he held it together, the depth of his sadness flowing beneath.

Bending your head under the weight of understanding, your eyes rested on your hands. Lifting them, you turned them over. The same lightning that ran through your palms had torn his life apart long before Bolt ever turned his sights to you.

You had lived. Why you?

“I’m sorry he never got the chance I did.” Your sentences landed far apart, sparing. What could you say? “It should have been him.”

“I’m glad you got them.”

Time slowed down as Jungkook’s words made impact. You nearly choked on them.

You stared back at him, not breathing. The gaze he returned was level, totally serious. Had you heard him right?

“You’re good, Y/N-”

He dipped his head at last, but didn’t break the eye contact for long. He eyed you as if waiting for you to laugh in his face. Like he couldn’t believe he was saying this, either.

“And you do the right thing. So when you screwed up… I know you never meant for that to happen. You know what went wrong, and you won’t do it again. I know that. So I shouldn’t have-”

Huffing, he looked roughly to one side, jamming a hand into his hair. Glowered into the counter as he kept speaking.

“But it hurt more because it was you. I want you to be with… us. The-the boys all love you a lot, okay? You’re one of us now.”

Jungkook was distracted from his determination to avoid looking at you by a sniffle. You had already pushed the back of your hand against your mouth.

Though you tried for a glare, the awe in it did weaken the effect. You shook your head.

“I hate you, Jeon Jungkook.”

The look that flashed over his face was almost comically hurt.

“I-I thought I was done,” you rambled, “all I want is to be part of this team, I thought I had blown it- and now you’ve made me cry!”

Swiping at the couple of escaped tears with one hand, you jabbed the other one accusingly towards Jungkook. But you only meant a fraction of the venom, and he knew it. His lips tightened the way they did when he tried to suppress a smile.

When he held his hands up as if in surrender, you lowered yours. A watery sigh escaped you.

“You say this now, after you made me think I had to prove it to you all over again-”

Deflating, his stance softened. Dropping his hands, one of them hovered before landing on the closed toilet lid an inch from your knee.

“I never meant that. About you needing to suffer… I know you already have.” He chewed his lip for a moment before something sparked behind his eyes. “But hey, you ran off and did exactly that! I thought your whole point was that you didn’t want to-!”

Rolling your eyes, you couldn’t help the grin breaking out. Shifting, your leg dislodged Jungkook’s hand. His fingertips stilled where they now found themselves grazing your leg.

“We’re both idiots,” you concluded.

“Hey, don’t tell the others!”

With a breathy laugh, you gratefully felt some weight dissolve from your shoulders. Even after the laughter wore off, you felt yourself smiling faintly at your lap and took the chance to blink back your tears.

One was knocked free, shooting down your cheek-

Only to be intercepted by a finger.

Jungkook froze, hand still on your face, and gulped. A second too late to look natural, he glanced down with a gesturing nod.

“That’ll hurt like a bitch in that cut.”

“Oh. Yeah. Thanks.”

The pad of his thumb dragged away the salty water while you tried very hard not to look too hard at anything. Or to close your eyes. Would that be worse?

Then he moved backwards again, reaching for something new. The wound on your cheek was a cleaner cut, easier to deal with. As he wiped it a few times with a fresh gauze, his hand finally placed itself steadily over your knee.

A new kind of silence settled as he pressed two strips over each gash.

“You, um…” he withdrew his hand, “you should rest. And eat. Yeah. Eat, and rest.”

You nodded.

“Yeah, I should.”

Looking over to the door, you dragged your lip between your teeth. In fairness, Jungkook had been your biggest concern. But you had still royally fucked up today. Twice. You had the rest of your group to make it up to.

Maybe braving it sooner would be easiest. As much as you didn’t have the energy for it, they could recharge you. You all gave back to each other in the end.

Sensing your reservation, Jungkook stood.

“Hey,” he called your attention back to him, “they were just worried.”

“I guess they’ll be a piece of cake now, after you,” you couldn’t help smiling, “you’re the most obstinate one, after all.”

As you finished speaking, you followed him to stand, shooting a smirk into his affronted face. It looked as though he couldn’t decide whether to be offended or amused – until all that was erased as you crossed closer to him on your way to the door.

Your expression, too, faded. Your steps fell too sluggishly, but his gravity slowed them without your meaning to. It left you locked in his eyes for too long.

With your breath trapped in your throat, you had no idea how you managed it. Your voice sounded without premeditation, low but clear with your sincerity.

“Thanks, Jungkook.”

And then you turned, leaving him trying to recover his own racing heart behind you.

Thank you for reading!!💜💜

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@thesmeraldogirl

This is the first of hopefully many comics following the story of Destiny the Game's Light and Dark saga. I don't want to commit to a certain schedule on when I update this, but I'd like to at least get a page or chapter out per month.

So for now, meet the freshly rezzed Young Wolf, Andreas

Be the Light: Pt. 3 (SeongjoongxFem!reader)

Pairing: Hongjoong x Seonghwa x Fem!reader | Side pairing(s): Ateez x Fem!reader.

Word Count: 6k

Genre: angst, fluff, smut

AU: historical!au, arranged marriage!au, royalty!au

Summary: YN has spent her entire life in service of Han Sookmyung, Queen of Hanseong. She never dreamed above her station, or that she'd ever be in reach of Sookmyung's concubines, 'The Golden Ones'. But, when secrets are brought to life, her world is turned upside-down.

Warnings: graphic descriptions of violence, heavily referenced torture (briefly), heavily referenced abuse (briefly), heavily referenced sexual abuse (briefly), enslavement, slight gaslighting, lost sibling, political drama, historical drama, joseon!au, concubine!ateez, nsfw content, virgin!reader, polyamory, polygamous, throuple, threesome m/m/f, oral sex (m. and f. receiving/giving), cunnlingus, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, virgin sex, virginity discussed.

Taglist: @scarfac3 @tunaasan @lelaleleb @sevngmin148 @meljoongiee @puppyminnnie @sunasmoke22 @kyourixr @yoongiigolden @lynnsqueendom @atinycafe @soocore @ethereally-lyann @blackbutterfly133 @ddaeing @pearltinyy @raviollirin

Part 2 < | > Part 4

***

The palace temple was built by the first King of Hanseong, one of Sookmyung’s ancestors, many years ago. Walking through the temple’s zen garden, a small pond area guarded by stone statues of gods, Hongjoong and Seonghwa did not meet anyone during their walk. Hardly anyone visited the palace temple anymore, and since Sookmyung did not care about it, the area became overgrown by wildlife and dense foliage. Both men struggled to find the path at times, and once or twice one of them ran into garden snakes. But, eventually they saw the stone and wood structure in the middle of a clearing. Hongjoong saw a stone buddha statue eroded by age and weather in front of several kneeling cushions on the ground. The place overall carried a tranquil silence that he worried might break at the slightest sound. He’d expected they’d be alone, but he’d been wrong. 

Sitting in her usual wheelchair, Queen Mother Jisoo sat with her hands folded over her lap and head bowed in prayer. On a cushion beside her was Chaewon, her handmaiden. This sudden appearance of Sookmyung’s mother raised their suspicions. The small offerings placed in front of the statue implied she visited often, and she appeared entirely at peace. Hongjoong looked at Seonghwa, and saw the caution in his eyes. They walked slowly and quietly behind the two women, taking their own cushions and sitting in silence. Hongjoong wondered how long the pair planned to be here. What if their contact backs away because he saw Jisoo and Chaewon? Then, he’d never learn of their plan. He’d considered leaving and waiting in the bushes before another figure joined them. 

Senior Advisor Choi Wonshik. He came unaccompanied this time, in his usual official robes and gat. A quick glance to them with a bow was returned before he took a cushion beside Hongjoong. Another person to scare off his contact. Hongjoong had given Seonghwa a look before Jisoo spoke first. 

“What do you pray for, Hongjoong?” 

Jisoo’s voice broke the garden’s tranquil silence, as soothing as the water falling into the pond nearby. Hongjoong and Seonghwa looked at one another, then at Wonshik, who smiled serenely with his head bowed. Chaewon showed a similar expression, not looking over at him or anyone else. He thought about what he could possibly say to Sookmyung’s mother. It’d be wrong to tell her ‘your daughter’s downfall’ out loud and to her face.

“For home,” Seonghwa said from beside him.

Hongjoong whipped his head over to him, but Jisoo spoke first. “As do all of us,” she beckoned Chaewon to stand, and the woman moved to turn her chair around and face them. The lines around her mouth and her eyes showed signs of a woman who’d laughed and lived well. Her eyes, while similar to Sookmyung, did not hold viciousness but rather warmth. 

She smiled at them both, “This country is my home. I spent many years of my life dedicated to leaving it better than when I first came into power. I pray for its safety and wellbeing every morning, afternoon, and night. I pray that the crops will be fruitful this harvest, and that we will never see another war or famine again. My prayers are the only thing left to me since my daughter was crowned queen.”

“It is the only thing many of us have left,” added Wonshik. “I pray for strength,” he told them, “And for patience. I pray that one day the dignity of The Crown is restored, and that when people see our banners, they do not cower in fear but instead feel comforted.”

“I pray for the good health of the people,” said Chaewon, “And for the protection of my daughter, YN.”

“As we should,” said Wonshik.

Suddenly everything made sense. He looked over at Chaewon, then Wonshik, then at Jisoo.

“We may speak plainly,” Jisoo declared. “I told the guards to leave this place, and this temple has been banned since Sookmyung became queen. This means you can remove those ridiculous veils and let me see your handsome faces."

Tentatively, Hongjoong and Seonghwa removed their veils and Jisoo beamed brightly at them. She examined Seonghwa first, clearly admiring his jawline and wide eyes. Hongjoong saw her nod her head in approval. 

"Just as handsome as you are intelligent," she concluded. "One might have thought you'd been sculpted by gods if they saw you." 

Seonghwa bowed his head appreciatively. She did the same with Hongjoong, studying his features closely. His cheeks blushed being observed like a painting or statue sold at auction. He looked over to Wonshik, who appeared to be doing the same from where he sat. But, it was Chaewon who spoke.

"He looks like a true prince, doesn't he, Your Majesty?" She grinned fondly. 

"No, not a prince," Jisoo said. She met his eyes when she said, "A king." 

Her words left him speechless. He eyed her closely, searching for a lie in her face. This woman is Sookmyung’s mother; her being part of a resistance against her sounded too good to be true. Hongjoong never knew Jisoo to scold or criticize her daughter. More often than not, she remained neutral and kept to herself in the palace. Seeing The Queen Mother was rarer than seeing a concubine. He couldn’t imagine her wanting to depose her own child. When she moved away, he spoke. 

“What did we meet here for?” he asked her, “To talk of prayers? Changbin’s message mentioned another heir.”

“How can that be?” Seonghwa asked after him. 

“Sookmyung has a twin sister.”

The news shocked the two men. “A twin?” Hongjoong furrowed his brow, “Where? How? If there is someone walking around with Sookmyung’s face, then they would’ve been found before now.” 

“I married King Siwon when I was nineteen-years-old,” she started. “Being the King, Siwon had a multitude of responsibilities. I only had one: to produce heirs for the throne. I’m sad to say it was the only thing I could not do. Siwon and I spent five years of our marriage trying for a child, and failing. Every pregnancy I did have never carried to term or came out ill and died or was a stillborn,” Hongjoong saw the discomfort in her face speaking about it. “I felt like a failure. I loved Siwon, and I knew how much he wanted a child, and I’d disappointed him. Those snakes at court began whispering that perhaps I was barren or I had a disease preventing me from having a healthy child. I had to do something. I knew if I failed to produce an heir, they might demand an annulment and Siwon and I would be separated forever.”

“So, what did you do?”

“I prayed,” she answered. “I prayed right here in this temple. Chaewon was there,” she lifted a hand which Chaewon took in her own, “And she prayed with me. I prayed for fertility, for a healthy child, and to bring honor to my family. The next time Siwon and I made love, a month later I was declared pregnant. I spent most of my pregnancy bed ridden, since I feared the slightest movement might make me lose the child inside me. The physicians checked on me night and day, giving me herbal teas and acupuncture treatments for the baby. It was a painful experience, but Siwon said the result would be worth the struggle.” She then said, “Then, on the fourteenth night on the eighth moon twenty-four years ago, I finally gave birth to my child. She came into the world crying and screaming, and by all accounts was perfectly healthy. I’d done my duty to my family, and I’d finally gotten the one thing I’d always wanted: a child.

“But then, I felt another pain and the physician said I was going into labor again. Out came a second girl, quieter than the first and whimpering softly, but also completely healthy. Siwon saw the crisis before anyone else did. He said he’d seen dynasties be torn apart by a succession dispute…” she paused, gulping thickly as she said, “And said one of the girls would have to go.”

“What? That’s awful,” said Seonghwa softly. “He forced you to part from your own child to avoid a war over the throne?”

“That’s what he believed he was doing,” she replied. Chaewon put both her hands on Jisoo’s shoulders, and the queen touched one of them still. “I knew he was right. My own family went through a similar struggle when my father died, and I did not wish to see my children be torn apart because of a silly chair. I told my husband I understood his reasoning, but I did not wish to be fully separated from my child. I begged him to let the girl remain in the palace; I told him we can pass her off as somebody’s else’s child, and nobody would have to know outside of a select few. The girls looked nothing alike, so it wasn’t as if anyone would suspect.” 

Hongjoong sensed the end of this story, and he couldn’t believe it at all. 

“Then, I turned to my closest friend,” she smiled up at Chaewon, “Who’d held my hand throughout my labors and been there every step of the way. She’d suffered similar fertility issues with her husband, who couldn’t produce enough sperm to give her a child. I offered the younger of the two to her,” she looked back at them, “And she’d live as Chaewon and Hyungshik’s daughter instead.”

“YN…” your name escaped his lips softly. “No, that’s…YN and Sookmyung could not be any different from one another. Firstly, their appearances alone are vastly different, and their demeanors…YN, she’s…She’s too sweet to have shared a womb with a monster like Sookmyung. How would you have kept this from other servants? Gossip spreads in this place like wildfire. If Queen Jisoo had two twins, people would have known in seconds.” 

“And if Chaewon didn’t have a child one day, was never pregnant, and suddenly produced one,” added Seonghwa, “Might raise suspicions.” 

“I told people my husband and I adopted a baby from the city orphanage,” Chaewon said. 

“And the only people in the birthing room that night were myself, the king, the physician, Chaewon and Wonshik,” Jisoo replied. “Everyone involved was sworn to secrecy. Physician Yoon passed away some years after the twins’ birth, so it was one less person. Han YN became Park YN, and she has lived as Chaewon and Hyungshik’s adopted daughter ever since. I demanded that YN and Sookmyung live side-by-side like sisters, being companions as children before YN became her handmaiden.” 

“It was His Majesty’s wish that YN be educated alongside Sookmyung,” said Wonshik. “I think when Sookmyung’s nature began to show, he started regretting his decision to separate the twins. I suggested he reveal his deception to the people, and claim YN as his daughter, but he refused. He was too proud to admit he’d made a mistake, and too optimistic that Sookmyung’s wild behavior was a phase she’d grown out of in adulthood.”

“He also feared what Sookmyung might do if she found out she had a sister,” Jisoo admitted to them. “You two saw what she’d done to those who had claims to the throne, no matter how distant. I knew telling her would put YN’s life in danger.”

“Then why are you bringing this to light now?” asked Hongjoong, appalled by their confessions. “Sookmyung is the queen. She is the most powerful person in the country. She has men who will torture and kill people at the first word, and will not hesitate to do it herself. She’ll kill YN and get away with it,” he couldn’t keep the panic out of his voice. “We can’t let anyone else know. If Sookmyung should ever think YN is-”

“-Sookmyung needs to be stopped,” Jisoo cut him off firmly. “I love my daughter. I have loved her despite her faults and wrongdoings. I did my best to raise her to be a proper lady of the realm, and prepare her for her ascension. But, I must accept the truth: my daughter is not the person I’d hoped she’d become.”

“She never was,” said Wonshik. “Ever since her girlhood, Queen Sookmyung has been vicious, manipulative, aggressive and cruel. You cannot deny this, Your Majesty,” he told her, “I told your husband that naming Sookmyung his heir would be a mistake.”

“Then who would he have named? His incompetent brother? His people-pleasing sister?” she snapped at him. “I don’t know if you remember, Senior Advisor, but my daughter had most of my husband’s family killed during the war. There are so few claimants left, and they’d be too frightened to challenge Sookmyung.” She turned back to Hongjoong, “YN is our only hope at saving this kingdom from open warfare.”

“Warfare? Do you believe the rebels are strong enough to engage?” asked Seonghwa, sitting back on his haunches and putting a hand to his chin thoughtfully. “From what I’ve always understood the rebel forces to be ill equipped and nothing more than commoners with pitchforks?”

“And that is the exact image we want Sookmyung to have,” Wonshik told him. “I can assure you that the rebels are more than farmers and fishermen. Her Majesty and I have managed to rally some supporters from the other cities. Daegu, Jeonju, and Pyongyang have all given their support to our cause, and minor lords in Gangwon-do and Jeju-do gave theirs as well. I have close friends here at court who will be on YN's side when we finally usurp Sookmyung.” 

“It will not be an easy transition, Senior Advisor,” said Seonghwa. “The people only know Sookmyung; they do not know YN. If they hear she is a twin, they may assume she shares Sookmyung’s behaviors. I don’t know if you’re aware, sir, but Sookmyung forces YN to participate in the torture and abuse a majority of the time. It’s a strange intimacy the both of them have. They might believe she’s the same or worse.”

“Which is why we must show them that YN is tender-hearted and gentle,” he replied. “Have her go into the city, meet her people and speak to them face-to-face. Reinstate the protection laws and charities Sookmyung banned or removed. She can repair damages done across the kingdom and lower taxation and those ridiculous tributes Sookmyung demands. The people will see that she is vastly different from their previous queen.”

“And she’ll have something Sookmyung has not had in the eight years of her reign,” said Jisoo. “The thing her advisors have hounded her about for years.”

“What?”

“A husband,” she eyed Hongjoong when she said this. “Not only a husband, but a husband who’d been a prince of Wonju, the rebel base and rallying point of the rebellion.”

“Should peace be restored, I’d return to Wonju to rule,” said Hongjoong. “My whole family is dead. There’d be nobody to take my place.”

“That is not entirely true, young prince,” Wonshik said. “There is your cousin, Jeongin.”

“Jeongin?” He lifted an eyebrow. Hongjoong remember his youngest cousin, and said, “He was killed by Sookmyung’s guards the day they sacked the city.”

“No, he wasn’t,” he said. “Wonju loyalists managed to smuggle him out right as the fighting began. He has been living in the countryside ever since. The people in charge of him have been preparing him to be your steward in Wonju. You would be here with YN, ruling at her side, while giving him control of Wonju in your place.” When he saw Hongjoong’s hesitation, he added, “Jeongin is the same kind, caring boy you remember. He would make a great steward.”

“And it’d rebuild the alliance Wonju and Hanseong once had,” said Jisoo. “I don’t believe Wonju’s bannermen would agree to any ties with Hanseong without a marriage pact. Even if you have not been in Wonju, the people there still stand with you, Hongjoong. You are their king. You can be my daughter’s king consort, be at her side and guide her.” She then grinned slyly, "Unless you do not want her?” 

"Of course I do," he blurted out without thinking. "I mean, I do like her. I think YN could be a good queen with the right counsel, but Sookmyung…" 

Hongjoong did not want to imagine what horrors she'd have in store for you. Sookmyung held you very close to her heart. Should she believe you're conspiring against her, she'll see it as the deepest of betrayals. Hongjoong refused to let her dangle you from a ceiling or shove you in a horrific box. He'd kill her before he let that happen. 

"What are your plans for Sookmyung?" Seonghwa asked when Hongjoong failed to respond. 

"She will be arrested and put on trial," said Wonshik 

"On what charges?"

"Crimes she committed during the war," he explained. "The murder and torture of prisoners of war,  purposefully attacking civilian towns and taking hostages are only a few named."

"You cannot arrest a queen."

"You can if she has been deposed," he corrected him. "If the council decides Sookmyung is unfit as queen, she will be replaced by YN, therefore removing her titles. Up until now, most of the officials feared retaliation from her for speaking out, but I have convinced the Head Advisors to join me."

"Is she not supposed to be there when the ruling is made? That is part of the law."

"Smart boy," Wonshik smiled at him, "But there is a loophole in this law."

"Is there?"

"The ruling monarch does not have to be present for every council meeting," he said, "And Sookmyung never comes to any of them. We always come to decisions on our own, and present them to her for approval."

"And this ruling can be made during one of these meetings," concluded Seonghwa. "She will not go quietly, you know. She will try to flee."

"We have no doubt about that," he replied. "Do not worry. I have many things in place to make sure she is detained."

"And when is this supposed to happen?"

"Tonight."

"Tonight? So soon? Why?"

"Because it is crucial we do it as soon as possible," he said. “Her Majesty will set up a place for Sookmyung to be, we will wait until she is unsuspecting, and then confront her. We will have supporters around us to step in if need be.” 

"The only person we are waiting on is you, Your Grace," Jisoo said to him gently. "Will you accept my daughter’s hand in marriage and be her king consort? Help us reunite the kingdoms and restore peace?" 

His eyes began to sting. Nobody had called him 'Your Grace' in a very long time. He didn't think he'd ever be called that again. Thinking deeply, Naeun came to mind. If he refused, everything she suffered would be for nothing. He remembered her lifeless body laying on the hard straw, broken bones protruding from her skin and her eye swollen shut. She died with the hope that one day her home will be as she remembered. Hongjoong then thought of you. As your king consort, he could be around you whenever he liked. He could speak to you, laugh with you, kiss and hold you the way he dreamed. You would be his, and you could restore the kingdom together. 

"Yes," he nodded. "Yes, I will."

For home.

****

"-He kept crying all the way back," she huffed. "I thought, being a man, that he'd have a higher tolerance for it."

You knelt at Sookmyung’s side by the low dining table. The afternoon light shone in through the open windows, their borders creating shapes on the floors. Along with it came a cool spring breeze that kissed your warm cheeks. You hated it when Sookmyung recounted her nights in the dungeon. It sickened your stomach, and only brought on more haunting visions. You laddled egg soup into a bowl for her, stirred it around a few times, then placed it in front of her. 

“You’re a woman and you have a stronger stomach than him,” she said, spooning soup into her mouth. 

“I am sure Hongjoong was only overwhelmed by experiencing so much so quickly,” you told her. You sliced toasted bread, putting a small pot of honey and jaw in front of her. “You should have started small, perhaps The Box or The Bull. You know, an act he doesn’t see but hears instead. It lets his mind fill in the blank spaces.” 

“Hm,” she mused, sipping more soup from her bowl, “I suppose you’re right. I may have been a bit hasty in my excitement to show him the chamber. I thought…” she hesitated, “I thought he might understand. I thought he’d enjoy it the way we do.” She pondered over her soup, pushing the strings of egg with her spoon. “I was wrong.” You saw her fingers grip the spoon tightly, her eyes narrowed at the bowl as it’d wronged her.

“Things like the dungeon take a bit of getting used to,” you told her. “I am sure with time, he will come to enjoy it with you.” 

You sat back on your legs and watched her eat. Your own stomach growled quietly, and rumbled in your gut the longer you lingered on the food. The porridge you’d eaten this morning had since been digested, and left you hungry again. You did not know what plans Sookmyung had for the day, since she never concerned herself with the day-to-day work of a queen. The advisors usually held meetings in the morning, then approached her with their decisions some time in the day. Having started her day late, you’re sure they’ll wait until much later to discuss any rulings they’ve made. A part of you believed the council made decisions and put them into action without Sookmyungs’s knowledge sometimes. It is not as if she cared anyway.

“You’re the only person I can share my chambers with,” she said. “You’re the only one who understands.”

Unfortunately, she was right. While Sookmyung’s ‘experiments’ and ‘delights’ haunted your dreams and churned your stomach, you’d begun to understand why she must hurt others. It made sense when you thought about it. Relishing in the pain of others gave her a gratification she couldn’t find anywhere else. Hurting them, controlling when the pain began and ended simulated a power reserved for gods, and not men. You often stood by as she forcibly shoved a man into a box full of venomous scorpions and spiders, and saw the glee in her face. You’d see her carve a man’s face off to place maggots on the red flesh, then stand to watch him writhe in agony. It was abhorrent to anyone else. It was fun for Sookmyung. The fact that her treasured flower did not revel in the torture with her must’ve upset her deeply. Hongjoong having cried at whatever befell the assassin angered Sookmyung. Watching her stir her soup around before eating it, you worried she might decide she no longer wants Hongjoong.

He may end up in The Box next. 

“Will you take him back there?” you asked her, pouring milk into a cup for her to drink.

“I wanted to, but the assassin died in the night,” she scoffed. She ate another piece of kimchi, chewing on the fermented vegetable before saying, “You should have seen her, YN. I think you would have admired her resistance.”

“Did she reveal any information to you?”

“No,” she shook her head, “Those rebel bastards should start finding smarter people. The guards say they found her climbing over the garden wall, waiting in the trees by the corner. You’d think an assassin might be smarter than that.”

“Hubris,” you said, “That was her mistake.”

She grinned, “And stupidity. What made her think she could ever possibly put her knife to my throat?”

“Pride or desperation. One of the two, I suspect.” 

Sookmyung then changed to another topic, a smirk lifting a corner of her mouth, “You never answered me last night.”

“Your Majesty?” you dug your nails into your skirt. Another test was coming, you knew it.

“I asked if San was your type.”

“I told you he was not, Your Majesty.”

Your cheeks burned recalling the previous night. You are certain Sookmyung had no intention of letting you lay with one of her flowers. She only wanted to embarrass you further in front of people. Like with her victims, she controlled your life. She’d also control any lover you took up. She’d kill them if she didn’t approve.

“YN, I cannot find you a proper husband unless you tell me,” she said irritably. She then sneered, “Or, maybe, you don’t like men at all.”

“Wha-what?” your eyes widened at the implication, and you shook your head. “Your Majesty, I assure you I do prefer me-”

“-There is nothing wrong with liking the same sex, YN. There are places all over the world where women couple with women,” she cupped your chin so you looked at her. Her thumb traced your bottom lip line as she said, “I sometimes wish I’d been the boy my father had wanted. Then, this marriage situation could be easily solved.” She moved away from her bowl to sit closer to you. You shivered as her fingers pushed stray strands of hair away, “I could marry the prettiest, loveliest woman I know, and make her mine.” When you looked away in embarrassment, she cackled, “Such a flustered little virgin. There is so much you do not know.”

“Your Majesty…”

“It’s sweet.”

The sound of footsteps made you jump away from her, but she stayed in place. A knock on the door made her grunt frustratedly.

“Go see who it is, YN,” she said, “Then tell them to leave. We have places to be later, and I need to get dressed.”

You were all too eager to go. You are not a naive child. You know women can be romantic with other women; there is nothing wrong with that. You’d seen Sookmyung nude many times over the course of your servitude, and you wouldn’t say she was ugly by any means. Any true naive person would think she is a goddess with her slender curves and hips. The only problem for you was that said woman is sadistically evil. You reached the door, and slid it open to reveal your mother and Queen Jisoo.

“Your Majesty,” you said, heat rising in your cheeks again as you bowed, “Good afternoon. What brings you here?”

“My daughter,” she replied stiffly. “Is she finally awake?”

“She is,” you nodded, “But she has a busy schedule ahead of her, so she must be getting dressed now.”

“Psh, as if that will stop me,” she replied. “Chaewon, wheel me in.” 

With a beckoning gesture over her shoulder, your mother wheeled Jisoo into the room where Sookmyung sat on cushions by the low breakfast table. You trailed behind, not meeting her eyes, and remaining silent.

“Good afternoon, Mother,” Sookmyung said with a false grin, “I hope you’re feeling better. YN was just telling me you hadn’t eaten much yesterday.” A lie that Queen Jisoo did not believe for a second.

“I am, darling daughter,” she said, “But my health is not why I’ve come here. I am here to tell you that you are to clear your afternoon schedule today.”

“Why is that?”

“I have invited lords from Daegu, Jeonju, and Pyongyang as well as sons of your bannermen to our banquet pavilion today. It is about time you stopped fiddling with those poor concubines of yours and settled down with a husband.”

Sookmyung glared at her, “I do not want a husband.”

“I’m afraid that your wishes are no longer a concern to anyone. You are a queen, and a queen must have a king.”

“I do not want a king.”

“Why? Because then you’d have to actually share your power with someone? Because there will finally be someone restraining these ghastly, deviant urges of yours?” her mother accused. “I have made excuses for your behavior for years and years, Sookmyung. When people at court called you improper and promiscuous, I told them you shared your father’s fiery passion. When they said your conquest brought nothing but poverty to your people, I said that you united the kingdoms under one rule and brought forth strength to our armies. Even when you rebuilt the dungeons, to toy and defile people you deemed criminals, I told them that you were passionate about justice.” You heard the frustration rising in her voice, and flaring in her dark eyes. “People have begun to talk, Sookmyung. They say that one day soon, you’ll become pregnant with an illegitimate child and bring shame to our throne.”

“Who cares?” Sookmyung groaned, “Any child I bare would have my blood. Why would that make them unworthy?”

“Because a bastard has never sat on our throne-”

“-I don’t want them, so why does this matter?”

Jisoo sighed, “Sookmyung, I understand your hesitancy to marry. I had my reservations when my mother approached me, but I made it work. I did my duty to my country and my family.” Her eyes shifted over to you, sad and full of regret. It struck you as strange. “But, in order for our family to continue, you must produce a legitimate child. A child of royal, noble blood.”

“I hate children,” she spat, glaring back at her mother, “They’re whiny, snotty, and annoying.”

“You’ll feel differently when you have a child of your own.”

Sookmyung then gave her mother a grin that unsettled you. It was the same mischievous smile she’d given when she misbehaved. She stood up from her seat, and said, “But, what if I have found true love at last, Mother? What if I have found someone I wish to spend my life with?”

“You-You have? Who?” the queen asked, shocked.

Sookmyung moved over to you, standing behind you with arms around your waist. She placed her head on your shoulder as she said, “YN.”

Jisoo scoffed, “Oh please, Sookmyung. You cannot marry YN; she is a woman.”

“Women marry women all the time, Mother, when they marry the same husband,” she said. “YN and I can marry the same man and he can give her children instead.”

“As true as that may be, our clan has never indulged in such practices,” she said. “Besides, any child YN has will be considered…” she searched for the words, “Hers. Not yours. You are the queen, so it is your children who should-”

“-I am aware of how succession works, Mother!” Sookmyung snapped, her voice pinching your eardrum. “I have told you explicitly time and time again that I do not wish to have children or to marry. YN is perfect for it. If I marry her, her children will also be considered my children.”

“Should you marry a woman, it cannot be YN,” her mother said.

“Why not?”

“She is your handmaiden, love. She is not…” she paused again, “She is not suitable for you. She is not of noble blood.”

“Psh, wow,” Sookmyung snorted, “I thought I could be cruel. Did you hear that, Chaewon? My mother thinks your daughter is unworthy of me.”

“My daughter is a servant, Your Majesty,” your mother told her. “She’ll be marrying someone of her station like a stableboy or a blacksmith. A woman of your rank, Your Majesty, should be marrying a fine lord or a prince.”

“There are no princes left, you fool,” Sookmyung sniped at her.

“There would be if you hadn’t slain them all,” interjected Jisoo. “Enough of this foolishness. You will come to the pavilion today and greet your suitors. I give you until the end of the day to make a decision. If you do not choose one, I will choose one for you,” she said sternly.

“You wouldn’t-”

“-I would,” she cut her off. “This childish behavior of yours is coming to an end. You have been a queen for eight years, and have not even considered any suitors for yourself, so I must do it for you. I am giving one chance. If not, consider yourself lucky that you have not been dethroned.”

“You bitch!”

Sookmyung grabbed a small ceramic vase and flung it in the queen’s direction. Jisoo shielded her face in time to avoid any serious damage, but you still saw the disbelief in her eyes.

“I hate you!” Sookmyung grabbed another object, this time a small dish, which was dodged when your mother pulled Jisoo away. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!” 

“Your Majesty, please!” 

You managed to grab her wrist in time to stop her from taking up a third object, which gave your mother time to wheel Jisoo away. “You can throw tantrums all you want,” Jisoo called from nearby, “You will get married or live to regret it.”

“What did you say, you-”

You kept Sookmyung from following her mother out by the waist. “Your Majesty,” you called over her grunting and growling, “Please enough. You will only make things worse for yourself.”

“For myself?” she twisted out of your grasp and turned on you, “I am the queen, you idiot! What sort of consequences could I face? What can that old, useless woman do to me?”

“I-I don’t know-”

“-You never know anything,” she hissed. “Just as stupid as you look. I am the queen. Nobody can touch me. Nobody can make me do anything I don’t want to do. I don’t have to marry anyone. I don’t have to have children. I don’t have to do anything that those stupid, old men in the council want me to do.”

“They only have the country’s best interest at heart,” you explained, keeping your hands together to stop them shaking. “They’re not doing it to hurt you or make you unhappy. Having a child would ensure your family name and legacy continues onward,” you took a moment to think, then said, “How can you make sure your dungeons and practices remain in place if somebody else takes up the throne? With a child of your own, you can make sure they share the same beliefs as you about crime and punishment.”

“I hate children,” she gruffed. 

“You don’t have to like them. You don’t even have to take care of them; you can have a wet nurse look after them for you. You only have to have them.”

“I don’t want to marry any of those men.”

“I’m afraid it must be one of them.”

Sookmyung’s palm collided with your cheek sharply. The pain burned on your skin, but you did not dare flinch or wince in front of her. “You do not get to tell me what I can and can’t do,” she snarled. “I do. I am the queen." She smacked you again, “Say it. Say I am the queen.”

“You are the queen,” you squeaked.

“And you are my slave.”

“And I am your slave.”

Sookmyung smacked your other cheek, then grabbed you by the collar of your jacket. “I should throw you in that chamber. I think you’d remember who you are after a few days in there.”

Your eyes stayed on hers, and you trembled in her grasp. She could do it. You knew she could. For the briefest moment, you saw yourself laying nude in The Box, screaming and clawing at the wooden door as insects and arachnids crawled all over you.

“But no,” she released you and stepped away, “You’re not hard-headed like the other idiots around here. Dress me, and then we can meet these stupid suitors.”

“You…You will meet them then?”

“Might as well,” she shrugged. “Maybe we can find a husband we both like.”

“Both of us? Your Majesty,” you followed her to the bedroom, “None of those men would want to marry me. I am a servant.”

“You’re my servant,” she noted. “If they marry me, they’re marrying you too.” She held her arms behind her back so you may untie and remove her robe for her.

You gingerly touched your left cheek, and felt a small welt where her ring struck you. It pinched when you touched it. “What about your flowers? If you marry, you may not be allowed to have them.”

“I’m never giving them up,” she said, “Not for anyone. I worked too hard to obtain them.”

“Your husband may not like that and dismiss them from the palace. As king consort, he’d be allowed that right.” You’ll admit, you liked the idea of her flowers being set free. They’d all be able to live the lives they’ve always wanted freely and happily. 

“I’d kill my flowers before I let anyone else take them from me,” she said. “Grab the red and gold dress.” 

“Shall I call in the others?”

“No. I can’t stand them.”

“As you wish.”

“Because I am the queen.”

“Because you are the queen,” you repeated, giving a nod of your head before disappearing into the nearby closet. 

In the privacy of the walk-in closet, you pretended to search the shelves for the appropriate box. Sookmyung kept all her hanboks in boxes with their descriptions on the side. You already knew where her regal dress was, but did not reach for the box. Your back pressed into the opposite shelf and you took deep, silent breaths. Heart pounding in your chest, you tried your best to calm it before Sookmyung heard you. Like a feral animal, she grew tense the second she sensed fear. You hated this feeling, but it came regardless. You hated that your life was at her mercy. 

One mistake, one false word, and she’d throw you into a torture cell.

***

A/N: The conspirators have finally met!! I am so happy you guys are enjoying this fic so far. I know it's complex and elaborate, but I really love historical dramas and period pieces, so I wanted to write one for ateez. Please, as always, feel free to like, reblog, and comment <3

Also, sorry if some tags aren't tagging. Idk why.

Slide - The Series [Masterlist]

Pairing: Producer!Yoongi X Lyricist!Reader 

Theme: Angst, smut, unplanned pregnancy. Fwb to ?.

Type: Drabble Series

Summary: 

"I can see the pain in your eyesI don't wanna say that I'm God, butI'll take you to heaven if you die"  

Alternatively, 

You would go back in time and fall in love with Yoongi over and over and over again even after knowing that he would never once be yours in any of the timeline.

Warnings: extreme angst, unplanned pregnancy, mentions of depression, so much pining, unrequited love au, NSFW!!

Listened to Slide by Chase Atlantics

Minors do not interact!!

Masterlist | Patreon (For early access)

A/N: here is the masterlist. the story is gonna to back to the past and then come back to the present. hence, I have classified it. Hope it makes things easy to understand. also, this is gonna be very fragmented. I will not go into detailing much - as in the details of their jobs, family and stuff like that. this story will mainly revolve around Yoongi and reader's feelings towards each other and their bad decisions. That's all. AND please tell me if I have missed anyone's name in the taglist despite being requested. thanks <3

Taglist requests are closed for now

One time for the present ~

1. Slide - The Beginning

You would go back in time and fall in love with Yoongi over and over and over again even after knowing that he would never once be yours in any of the timeline.

2. Slide - The Ultimate Decision (TBA)

3. Slide - The Consequences (TBA)

Two times for the past ~

1. Slide - The Prequel (Posting date: 6.09, 12:30 pm EDT) [Read now on Patreon]

You would never think twice before picking Yoongi up from streets even if it means losing your own sanity in return.

2. Slide - That Night (TBA) [Read now on Patreon]

You would give yourself up willingly again and again if it means Yoongi will stay close to you. for whatever purpose.

Permanent Taglist:

@phenomenalgirl9 @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @chimchimmarie @coffeedepressionsoup @meowstake @vonvi-blog @nochuel @chimmisbae @i-have-no-life-charlie @mikrokookiex @jjk174 @lallataegi @savageyoongi @jwnghyuns @parapiop7 @futuristicenemychaos @purpleanchorcrown @armystay89

Requested Tags:

@ktownshizzle @ilys00ga @marihoneywk @yoongisoftface @sugaslittlekookies @joonwater @geminiml95 @ramicherie @wobblewobble822 @amarawayne @avawants2havefun @artemisdoe @jimintaemin @cuntessaiii

I WAS TRICKED, I was a fool. I knew what this would be and yet it still hurt sooooo much

I wanted to slap both of them, and hold both of them at the same time. Your going all out and I am truly in awe..... And fear

Who wants to read a preview to some angsty Porty Successor AU thing I'm working on 👀✨

Source: Altpress

My Chemical Romance killed off the Killjoys in spectacular fashion on their Danger Days album. But death didn’t stop co-writers Gerard Way and Shaun Simon from returning to Battery City in 2013. The comic book sequel miniseries, The True Lives Of The Fabulous Killjoys, picked up where the MCR record left off. Now, Way and Simon promise to challenge everything you think you know about their beloved band of renegades in an all-new story.

The Killjoys will, once again, make some noise in a six-part comic book series, The True Lives Of The Fabulous Killjoys: National Anthem. The first issue will be released on Oct. 14 through Dark Horse Comics. Based on the original idea that inspired the Danger Days album, it will focus on former Killjoy leader, Mike Milligram.

“In 2010, MCR released a concept record, Danger Days: The True Lives Of The Fabulous Killjoys,” Way and Simon revealed, exclusively to Alternative Press. “The record was inspired by a story that only existed in our minds. In 2013, we wrote a comic book series based on that concept record while the original story lay dormant. Now, in 2020, the story that inspired it all will be told: The True Lives Of The Fabulous Killjoys: National Anthem.

“There is no dystopian future—no wasteland to hide out in. Set in the 1990s and 2000s, National Anthem is a completely different story with a whole different set of rules. Mike Milligram and his gang of teenage exterminators operate in the Unseen where they bend reality to keep the real world’s status quo safe. But everything is about to change when the doors of the Unseen are closed and Mike and his Killjoys are thrust into the real world and forced to grow up and get real jobs. Screens, phones and a stagnant malaise become the new normal. When Mike’s TV breaks and his Ramones records seem to have been erased, he starts to wake up. Mike Milligram sets off on a journey to pull the curtains down on a cover-up that could change the course of history, past, present and future.” 

Way and Simon wrote National Anthem alongside illustrator Leonardo Romero, colorist Jordie Bellaire, and letterer Nate Piekos (The Umbrella Academy). 

The first issue will feature a cover by Romero, as seen above, along with two variant covers. One variant will feature an illustration from former Killjoys artist, and longtime Way collaborator, Becky Cloonan. The other alternate cover is by Paul Rentler, whose lo-fi photocopy design work has been previously featured through Way’s DC Comics imprint, DC’s Young Animal. You can see both variants below with Cloonan’s on the left and Rentler’s on the right.

Let’s face it, 2020 has been bleak. But if there’s one thing that can cure our quarantine blues, it’s most certainly a return of the Killjoys. Earlier this year, Dark Horse announced the reissue of the original series in a hardcover edition freshly titled Killjoys: California.

Adorned with a stark, blood-dripping Draculoid cover, this forthcoming reissue was everything we thought our little bulletproof hearts needed. But Way and Simon’s return to the original concept that inspired MCR’s 2010 record promises a fresh take on the material that we have yet to see or can begin to imagine.

The idea of Killjoys sans dystopia, working day jobs and watching their morale decay in the realm of the working stiff as they attempt to unveil a hidden truth feels like The Matrix by way of Descendents lyrics. This is definitely new territory for the Killjoys–and you better believe that we’re down for the ride. 

🍴🔪3 episodes in and i already love this show!🔪🍴

Was reminded of one of my favorite bits from BCGs. Like, the whole 'cool shirt' bit from Shark Objects is great, but the punchline with Bill at the end is what really sells it for me

Bam: I noticed we have slowly started to phase the "B" out of our bromance.

Khun, down on one knee, ring still out: I mean yeah, I guess

[SPOILERS FOR THE FNAF MOVIE]

I just came back from the fnaf movie... I'm never gonna be normal. Ever. This is my sign that I'm never gonna be normal

First off, CORY, THE LIVING TOMBSTONE AND MATPAT???? OH MY GOD MY BELOVEDS (MATPAT EVEN SAID BUT THAT'S JUST A THEORY!!! YIPPEE!)

Second, I was a bit sad that we didn't get to see the fnaf bitting head thingy with c.c, but we DID get a scene where freddy fucking bites off the top part of a girl's body and her lower part fucking falls to the ground (the gore and violence in this movie is INSANE. The cupcake eating the dudes face, the dude having his whole face shredded, and Vanessa getting fucking chocked and stabbed)

Speaking of her. A. Very happy she didn't have any romance with Mike, B. Vanessa being William's kid is NOT something I expected, C. WILLIAM SAYING THE LINE!!! "I ALWAYS COME BACK." .... YIP-

At the end it says come find me.... I think I'm gonna be sick

I'm also gonna be sick with the fact that it's a three year contract, so we're gonna have two more movies (but like, in a good autistic way for both. Ifykyk)

8/10 movie, I would give it a 10/10 but I'm knocking 1 point off because of the lore inaccuracy and another point off for the stuff that wasn't resolved (like Williams motives not being talked about, Mike not being in his family, and C.C just straight up not being real)

BIJOUX

PAIRING — lee heeseung x CEOfem!reader

SUMMARY — The fashion industry is difficult, so when the CEO of Korea's finest, luxury fashion brand, Le Désir, loses the most important ambassador of her career, her life is pretty much over. That is, until she finds a face that makes her previous fumble look like a simple marketing scheme.

GENRE — smau, two idiots in love, fluff, some goofs and gaffs

WARNINGS — kys jokes, class differences, alcohol, swearing, sexual (?) jokes, mentions of drugs and death, heeseung is a loser (endearingly), reader is strong business woman but (not so) deep down is just a silly little critter

FEATURING — rest of enha, txt yeonjun & beomgyu, ive yujin & liz, stayc sumin, itzy ryujin, and more idols mentioned

DATE — published 22/06/24, completed tbd

INTRODUCING THIS YEAR'S COLLECTION!

PROFILES. milan rejects & papa louie's character log

ONE. iowa, here i come!

TWO. akari... my #1 opp

THREE. determination for termination

FOUR. funeral POSTPONED! (written 1k)

FIVE. model hunting

SIX. betrayal of the banana

MORE TO BE ADDED!