#OF COURSE I WANT A GD PLAYDATE

[callmearcturus]

@intothecast doing an episode on the Playdate to attack me personally

[mrkwonandmrchoibabygirl]

NOW 2~G-Dragon Pt.28

Genre:Angst/SMUT

Rated:NSFW

Pairing: GD X Reader

wordcount:4,263 (sorry for any mistakes of names i might overlookEd some)

Masterlist

DISCLAIMER!:remember this is just an edit of an original book called after by anna todd i do not own this book!

Y/N POV

I watch as Smith settles in on the couch, scooting slightly closer to Jiyong. Jiyong looks at him with caution but doesn’t stop him or say anything about his proximity. It’s ironic that Smith seems to like Jiyong , when Jiyong clearly despises children. Though since Smith feels in some ways more like a country gentleman from an Austen novel, he may or may not be included in that category.

Never, he said to Smith when asked about marrying me.

Never. He never plans on having a future with me. I knew this somewhere deep inside, but it still hurts me to hear him say it, especially the cold and confident way he said it, like it was a joke or something. He could have softened the blow, even just a little.

I don’t want to be married right now, obviously, not for years. But it’s the idea that it isn’t even a possibility that hurts me, a lot. He says that he wants to be with me forever, yet he doesn’t want to be married? Are we supposed to just be “boyfriend and girlfriend” forever? Am I okay with never having children? Will he love me enough to make this all okay, despite the future I had always envisioned for myself?

I honestly don’t know, and my head is pounding thinking about it. I don’t want to obsess about the future right now; I’m only nineteen. We’ve been getting along so well, and I don’t want to ruin that.

After the kitchen is clean and the dishwasher is loaded, I check on Jiyong and Smith once more before going into the bedroom to get my things ready for tomorrow. My phone rings as I lay out a long black skirt for tomorrow. Kimberly.

“Hey, is everything okay?” I ask after answering.

“Yeah, everything is okay. They’re giving him some antibiotics and we should be getting sent home soon. It may be late, I hope that’s okay,” she says.

“Of course it is. Do what you need to do.”

“How is Smith doing?”

“He’s good—he’s actually hanging out with Jiyong ,” I tell her, still not believing it myself.

She laughs heartily. “Really? Jiyong ?”

“Yeah, tell me about it.” I roll my eyes and make my way back into the living room.

“Well, that’s unexpected, but it’s good training for when you have little Jiyongs   running around the house,” she teases.

Her words tug at my heart, and I bite down on my lip. “Yeah . . . guess so.” I want to change the subject before the lump in my throat grows any larger.

“Well, we’ll be done soon, hopefully. Smith’s bedtime is ten, but since it’s already ten, just let him stay up until you want him to go to sleep. Thank you again,” Kimberly says and hangs up.

I make a quick stop in the kitchen to pack a small lunch for tomorrow; I’ll just bring leftovers from tonight.

“Why?” I hear Smith ask Jiyong.

“Because they’re trapped on the island.”

“Why?”

“Their plane crashed.”

“How come they’re not dead?”

“It’s a show.”

“A stupid show,” Smith says, and Jiyong laughs.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Jiyong shakes his head in amusement, and Smith giggles. They look alike in some ways: the dimples, the shape of their eyes, and their smiles. I imagine that except for the blond hair and shade of eyes, Jiyong looked much like Smith when he was younger.

“Is it okay if I go to bed, or do you want me to watch him?” I ask Jiyong.

He looks at me, then at Smith. “Um . . . that’s cool. We’re just watching mindless television anyway,” he says.

“Okay, good night, Smith. I’ll see you in a bit when Kim is here to get you,” I tell him. He looks over at Jiyong, then back to me and smiles.

“Night,” he whispers.

I turn to go back into the room, but I’m stopped by Jiyong’s fingers wrapping around my arm. “Hey, no good night to me?” He pouts.

“Oh . . . yeah. Sorry.” I hug him and give him a kiss on the cheek. “Good night,” I say, and he hugs me again.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asks, pushing my shoulders back so he can look at me.

“Yeah, I’m just really tired, and he wants to hang out with you, anyway.” I smile weakly.

“I love you,” he tells me and kisses my forehead.

“I love you,” I respond and hurry to the bedroom and close the door behind me.

The next day, the weather is nice, with no snow and minimal slush on the sides of the road. When I get to Vance, Kimberly is sitting at her desk, and she smiles at me as I grab my usual donut and coffee.

“I didn’t even know you came last night. I fell asleep,” I tell her.

“I know, Smith was sleeping, too. Thank you again,” she says, and her phone rings.

My office feels strange after being on campus yesterday. Sometimes it seems as though I live a double life: one half a college student, one half full adult. I have an apartment with my boyfriend and a paid internship that honestly feels like a job, not an internship. I love both halves, and if I had to choose, I would choose the adult life, but with Jiyong.

I dive into my work, and lunchtime comes quickly. After several duds, I hit upon a manuscript that is really captivating, and I find myself eating quickly so I can get back and finish it. I hope they find a cure for the main character’s illness; I’ll be heartbroken if he passes. The rest of the day goes quickly as I am completely withdrawn from the world and fully enveloped in the manuscript, which ends terribly sadly.

With tears staining my cheeks, I leave for the day and head home. I haven’t heard from Jiyong once since I left him asleep and grumpy in bed, and I can’t stop thinking about his words from last night. I need a distraction from ruminations; sometimes I wish I could just shut my mind off the way other people seem to be able to do. I don’t like that I overthink everything, but I can’t help it. It’s who I am, and now all I can think of is Jiyong and me not having a future. Still, I really need to do something to get my mind off obsessing over this. He is who he is, and he doesn’t want to ever get married or have children.

Maybe I should call Hyuna after I go to Conner’s to get groceries and do a load of laundry since Jiyong and Taeyang will be going to the hockey game tonight . . . God, I hope that goes well.

When I arrive at the apartment, I find Jiyong reading in the bedroom.

“Hey, sexy. How was your day?” he asks as I walk in.

“It was okay, I guess.”

“What’s wrong?” Jiyong looks up at me.

“The manuscript I read today was so sad, incredible but so heartbreaking,” I say, trying not to get emotional again.

“Oh, it must have been good if you’re still upset about it.” He smiles. “I would hate to have been there the first time you read A Farewell to Arms.”

I plop down next to him on the bed. “This was worse, so much worse.”

He grabs hold of my shirt, pulling me to lay my head on his shoulder. “My sensitive girl.” As he runs his fingers up and down my spine, the way he spoke the words he just uttered makes my stomach flutter. To be called “my girl” in any form makes me much happier than it should.

“Did you even go to classes today?” I ask him.

“Nope. Watching the mini-human wore me out.”

“By ‘watching,’ you mean watching TV with him?”

“Same thing. I did more than you did.”

“So you like him, then?” I’m not sure why I’m asking this.

“No . . . well, as far as annoying children go, he isn’t at the top of the list, but I won’t be planning any playdates soon.” He smiles.

I roll my eyes but don’t say anything else about Smith. “Are you ready for the game tonight?”

“No, I already told him I’m not going.”

“ Jiyong! You have to go,” I shriek.

“I’m teasing . . . he’ll be here soon. You owe me for this shit, Y/N.” Jiyong groans.

“You like hockey, though, and Taeyang is good company.”

“Not as good of company as you.” He kisses my cheek.

“You’re in a good mood for someone who acts like they’re being led to slaughter.”

“If this goes badly, I won’t be the one who is slaughtered.”

“You better be nice to Taeyang tonight,” I warn him.

He raises his hands in mock innocence, but I know better. A knock is heard at the door, but Jiyong stays put. “He’s your friend, you answer the door,” he says.

I give him a look but go answer the door.

Taeyang is dressed in a hockey jersey, blue jeans, and tennis shoes. “Hey, Y/N!” he says with his usual friendly smile and a hug for a greeting.

“Can we get this over with?” Jiyong says before I can even say hello.

“Well, I can see this will be a fun night.” Taeyang jokes and runs a hand over his short hair.

“It’ll be the best night of your entire life,” Jiyong teases him.

“Good luck,” I tell Taeyang, who just chuckles.

“Oh, Y/N, he’s just showing off, trying to act like he isn’t excited to spend time with me.” Taeyang smiles, and it’s Jiyong’s turn to roll his eyes.

“Well, this is too much testosterone for me, so I’m going to change and run some errands. You two have fun,” I say, leaving the men to their little games.

Jiyong POV

As Taeyang and I push our way through the crowd, I groan and ask, “Why the hell is it so crowded already?”

He gives me a look with a little attitude behind it. “Because you made us late.”

“The game doesn’t start for another fifteen minutes.”

“I usually come an hour early,” he explains.

“Of course you do. Even when I’m not with Y/N, I’m with Y/N,” I complain. Taeyang and Y/N are literally the same person when it comes to their annoying need to be the first and best at everything they do.

“You should feel honored to be with Y/N,” he tells me.

“Stop being a dick and we might actually enjoy the game,” I tell him forcefully, but can’t help the smile that appears on my face at his annoyance. “Sorry, Taeyang. I’m honored to be with her. Now, would you chill out?” I laugh.

“Sure, sure. Let’s just get our seats,” he says quietly, leading the way.

“WHAT THE HECK! Did you see that? How the heck did that count!?” Taeyang screams next to me. He’s more energized than I’ve ever seen him. Still, even angry, he sounds like a pussy.

“C’mon!” he yells once more, and I bite my tongue in laughter.

I suppose Y/N was right: he isn’t too terrible of company. Not my first choice, obviously, but not so bad.

“I hear that the more you yell and scream, the more likely they are to win,” I tell him.

He ignores me and continues to yell and boo with the ebb and flow of the game. I alternate between paying attention and texting Y/N dirty things, and before I realize it, Taeyang’s yelling “Yes!” when his team wins the game at the last second.

The crowd piles out of the arena, and I push my way through them. “Watch it,” a voice behind me says.

“Sorry,” Taeyang apologizes.

“That’s what I thought,” the voice says, and I turn around to find a nervous Taeyang and an asshole wearing the opposing team’s jersey. Taeyang swallows but doesn’t say anything else as the man and his crew continue to taunt him.

“Look how scared he is,” another voice says, one of the asshole’s friends, I presume.

“I . . . I . . .” Taeyang stammers.

Are you kidding me? “Fuck off, both of you,” I snarl, and they both turn to look at me.

“Or what?” I can smell the beer on the tall one’s breath.

“Or I will shut you up in front of everyone, and you’ll be so humiliated it’ll be on the game’s highlight reel. That’s what,” I warn him, meaning every single word.

“C’mon, Dennis, let’s go,” the short one, the only one with some sense, says and tugs on his friend’s jersey, and they disappear into the crowd. I grab Taeyang by the arm and pull him the rest of the way. Y/N will have my balls if I let him get beat up tonight.

“Thanks for that, you didn’t have to do it,” Taeyang says when we reach his car.

“Don’t make it awkward, okay?” I grin, and he shakes his head, but I hear him laugh quietly to himself.

“Should I take you back to your apartment now?” he asks after several minutes of awkward silence while we wait to leave the crowded parking lot.

“Yeah, sure.” I check my phone again to see if Y/N has responded; she hasn’t. “Are you moving?” I ask Taeyang .

“I don’t know yet, I really want to be closer to Dakota,” he explains.

“So why doesn’t she move here?”

“Because her career in ballet wouldn’t work here; she has to be in New York City.” Taeyang lets another car pass in front of his, despite the fact that we’ve barely moved in the line of traffic since we left our parking spot.

“And you are just going to give up your life and move for her?” I scoff.

“Yeah, I would rather do that than continue to be away from her. I don’t mind moving, anyway. New York City would be an awesome place to live. It’s not always about one person in the relationship, you know?” he says, looking sideways at me. Fucker.

“Was that supposed to be directed at me?”

“Not exactly, but if you think it was, maybe it is.” A group of drunken idiots stumbles in front of the car, but Taeyang doesn’t seem to mind that they’re blocking us.

“Shut the hell up, would you?” I say. He’s just being a dick now.

“Are you telling me you wouldn’t move to New York to be with Y/N?”

“Yes, that is exactly what I’m telling you. I don’t want to live in New York, so I won’t be living in New York.”

“You know I don’t mean New York, I mean Seattle. She wants to live in Seattle.”

“She’ll be moving to England with me,” I tell him. I turn the volume dial on his radio up in hopes of ending this conversation.

“What if she doesn’t? You know she doesn’t want to, so why would you force her to?”

“I’m not forcing her to do anything, Taeyang . She will move because we’re supposed to be together and she won’t want to be away from me, simple as that.” I check my phone once more to try to distract myself from the irritation my lovely stepbrother is causing me.

“You’re an asshole.”

I shrug. “Never claimed that I wasn’t.”

I dial Y/N’s number and wait for her to answer. She doesn’t. Great, fucking great. I hope she’s still at home when I get there. If Taeyang didn’t drive so goddamn slow, we would be there by now. I stay silent, picking at the torn skin surrounding my fingernails. After what seems like three fucking hours Taeyang pulls up in front of my apartment.

“Tonight wasn’t so bad, right?” he asks me as I get out of the car, and I chuckle.

“No, I guess it wasn’t,” I admit. Then I tease, “If you tell anyone I just said that, I will kill you.”

Taeyang chuckles as he drives off. I let out a deep breath, very pleased that he didn’t get his ass beat by those guys tonight.

When I walk into the apartment, Y/N is sound asleep on the couch, so I just sit and watch her for a bit.

Jiyong

After watching Y/N sleep for a while, I gather her into my arms and carry her to our bedroom. She hugs on to my arms and rests her head against my chest. I gently lay her onto our bed and pull the covers up to her chest. I give her a soft kiss on the forehead and am about to turn and get myself ready for bed when she says something.

“Seunghyun,” she mumbles.

Did she just . . . ? I stare at her, trying to replay the last three seconds in my mind. She didn’t say—

“Seunghyun.” She smiles, rolling onto her stomach.

What the fuck?

Part of me wants to wake her up and demand to know why she would call his name—twice—in her sleep. The rest of me, the paranoid and fucking fed-up part of me, knows what she’d say. Y/N will tell me that I have nothing to worry about, that they’re only friends, that she loves me. Some of that may be true, but she just said his name.

Hearing that asshole’s name fall from her lips on top of fucking Taeyang and his certainty about his future—it’s too much. I’m not certain of anything, not in the way he is, and Y/N obviously isn’t sure about me either. Otherwise she wouldn’t be dreaming of Choi Seunghyun.

Grabbing paper and pen, I scribble out a note for her, leave it on the dresser, and head out into the night.

I TURN THE CAR toward the Canal Street Tavern. I don’t want to go there in case Nate and the group are still there, but there’s a place close by where I used to drink all the time. Gotta love the state of Seoul and the dumb-asses that never ID college kids.

Y/N’s voice plays in my mind, warning me not to drink again after the last time, but I don’t give a shit. I need a drink. I hear Seunghyun and Taeyang’s voices next. Why does everyone around me think their opinions matter to me?

I’m not moving to Seattle— Taeyang and his shit advice can fuck off. Just because he wants to follow his girlfriend around doesn’t mean that I want to. I can see it now: I pack my shit and move to Seattle with her, and two months later she decides she’s had enough of my shit and she leaves me. In Seattle, it’ll be her world, not mine, and I could be pushed out of it just as easily as I was brought in.

When I arrive at the bar, the music is low and there aren’t many people inside. A familiar blonde stands behind the bar and looks at me with surprise, and interest, in her eyes.

“Long time, no see, Jiyong. Miss me?” She grins and licks her full lips, remembering our nights together, I’m sure.

“Yeah, now give me a drink,” I respond.

Y/N POV

When I wake up, Jiyong isn’t in the bed. I assume he went for a coffee run or he’s in the shower, so I check the time on my phone and force myself out of bed. Despite not having gone out last night, I’m feeling pretty tired, so I don’t really make an effort with my appearance, just pulling on a SCU T-shirt and jeans. I’m tempted to wear yoga pants so I can tease Jiyong when I see him, but I can’t find them anywhere. Knowing him, he probably hid them or put them somewhere so no other guys can see me in them.

I look in my top drawer again, and when I close it, a piece of paper falls from the dresser.

Went out with my dad for breakfast, it says in Jiyong’s handwriting. I’m equally confused and happy about this. I really hope Jiyong and Ken can continue to build their relationship.

Figuring that they’re probably done, I try calling Jiyong , but he doesn’t answer. I shoot him a text message and head out to meet Taeyang at the coffee shop.

When I get there, Taeyang is sitting at a table, and gestures to the two drinks in front of him. “I already got yours,” he says with a smile and lifts the paper cup to me.

“That was nice, thanks.” The sweet yet bitter taste of the coffee wakes me up the rest of the way, but then I start getting anxious that I haven’t heard back from Jiyong.

“Look at us, looking like regular college students,” Taeyang jokes, pointing at my shirt and then at his, which is identical to mine. I laugh and take another drink of the blessed coffee.

“Hey, where’s Jiyong today?” Taeyang grins. “He didn’t walk you to class this morning.”

I shrug. “I don’t know. He left me a note that he left early to have breakfast with his dad.”

Taeyang stops mid-drink and gives me a quizzical look. “Really?” Then after a moment, he nods and says, “Stranger things have happened, I guess.”

His response only makes my mind fill with doubt. Jiyong did go to breakfast with his father. Didn’t he?

As Taeyang and I walk to class, and Jiyong still hasn’t responded to my previous or recent texts, an ache in my chest grows.

When we take our seats, Taeyang looks at me and asks, “Are you okay?” and I’m about to respond when I look up to see Professor Soto entering the room.

“Morning, everyone! Sorry I’m late, I had a late night last night.” He smiles and shakes a leather jacket from his shoulders before throwing it across the back of his chair. “I hope everyone took the time to either purchase or steal a journal?”

Taeyang and I look at each other and pull out our journals. When I glance around, I see we’re two of the only people to do so, and once again I’m amazed at just how unprepared college students are.

But Professor Soto continues undeterred and absently straightens his tie. “If not, take out a blank piece of paper, because we’re going to use the first half of class to work on the first journal assignment. I haven’t decided how many there will be exactly, but like I said, the journal will make up the majority of your grade, so you need to put in at least a little effort.” He grins and sits, putting his feet on the desk. “I want to know your ideas on faith. What does it mean to you? There is literally no wrong answer here, and your personal religion doesn’t make a difference. You can take this in many different directions—do you yourself have faith in some higher power? Do you feel that faith can bring good things into people’s lives? Maybe you think of faith in a completely different way altogether—does having faith in something or someone change the outcome of a situation? If you have faith that your unfaithful lover will stop being unfaithful, does that make a difference at all? Does having faith in God . . . or a number of gods, make you any better of a person than someone who doesn’t? Take the topic of faith and do what you want with it . . . just do something,” he says.

My mind is whirling with ideas. I used to go to church growing up, but I have to admit my relationship with God hasn’t always been the strongest. Every time I try to press my pen to the first page of my journal, Jiyong comes to mind. Why haven’t I heard from him? He always calls. He left a note, so I know he’s safe—but where is he now? How long will it be before I hear from him?

As each text remains unanswered, the panic inside of me grows. He has changed so much, improved his behavior.

Faith. Have I had too much faith in Jiyong? If I continue to have faith in him, will he change?

Before I realize where the time has gone, I’m on my third page. Most of what I’ve written has gone straight from somewhere inside of me to the paper, leaving my mind and heart out of it. Somehow a weight has been lifted by writing about my faith in Jiyong. Professor Soto calls the end of class, and I listen to taeyang talk about his journal entry. He chose to write about faith in himself and his future. I wrote about Jiyong without a thought. I’m not quite sure how I feel about that.

The rest of the day drags on miserably, since I haven’t heard from Jiyong. By one o’clock, I’ve called him three more times and sent eight more texts, but nothing. I feel bad about it—especially after having just written about faith and my feelings about him—but my first thought is that I hope he isn’t off doing something that will harm us.

My second thought is of Chaerin. It’s funny how she always pops up in mind when there’s trouble. Well, not funny, but persistent. She’s like an apparition that appears in my head even though I know he wouldn’t cheat on me.

RIGHT?