#but sex is easier atm and she's rolling with it

[papaya-twinks]

hey, I don’t know if you take requests atm so feel free to ignore it because I have a pretty long request, but I just wanted to tell you that I love your writing!!

I was bored today and kept daydreaming when I got this idea for a request, feel free to change some things if you want:)

Idea is, the two were dating for a while, like a year or so, and they broke up because they wanted to persuade their own dreams, him winning a wdc and her being in med school to become a doctor. But during their relationship, Lando always dragged her into the gym with him, so she kind of got a contract with the gym for like 2 years idk. After their breakup she kept going to that gym, because she didn’t want to let her money go to waste. One day working out, a guy came up to her and tried to help her, getting close and supporting her. She saw Lando was watching them and kept going because she knew that would get him jealous. After her workout session in the changing rooms obv, she wanted to get unready etc. and Lando came in. Some enemies to lovers banter, so that he ends up pushing her against the wall in the shower and one thing leads to another and they have sex. At the end they settle for another round in his apartment and end up getting back together.

Atp feel free to do whatever you want and whatever you’re comfortable with!

Kind of like break up then seeing each other again leading to hate/anger sex, semi public sex, jealous sex

Kisses <3

Warnings: Smut, 18+ angst, praise, hot!sex, shower!sex, swearing, hate!sex, degradation, slut-shaming

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

A/N - I’m sorry this took so long but omg this is such a good request!! xxxx

You had loved Lando. Of course you had, he had been an amazing boyfriend, but it wasn’t your dream to stay in a garage and watch him from afar, achieving his own dreams. And it wasn’t his dream to watch you go to med school and waste all his talent away.

The breakup had hurt. Absolutely, it had been painful letting go of a man you’d loved since you were in high school, but you both had destinies somewhere else, and if you couldn’t do it with the other by your side, then so be it.

“Yeah, I’m just heading to the gym right now,” you said, pulling on your hoodie as you spoke to your best friend, Maria, over the phone. “Jesus, didn’t Lando drag you there every day?” she asked, as you rolled your eyes, tying your hair into a ponytail.

“Yeah, I still have the stupid membership,” you grumbled, “I’m gonna finish it, then not renew it,” you said, picking up your gym bag, and grabbing your bottle. “Alright, well, you have fun,” she smiled, as you muttered a small ‘bye’ before hanging up.

You’d chosen some cute little pink sports bra and a matching pair of tight leggings, it was easier for you to work out in something like that. You walked into the gym, scanning your membership as you did so, god knows why you’d opted for the two year membership.

It had been a little bit ambitious of you to have gotten a membership, hoping you’d be together for that long, but at the time it seemed reasonable. At the time, it seemed like it could happen, and it wasn’t just a thought that you had.

You were standing by the mirror, holding a couple weights, trying to think of anything but how Lando would stand behind you to make sure you were okay, or how you’d share his bottle with him when you forgot your own…fuck.

It hurt. It hurt so much that you couldn’t be with him, that you’d had to watch his races through a fucking television and not with him, to show your support and how much you loved him. You still loved him. But did he still love you? You’d never know the answer to that.

“Hey, you need some help?” a voice made you look up, a guy, with a half smile on his face. God, you need a distraction from Lando anyways. “Can you spot me??” you asked, as he nodded, setting his shit down and placing his hands on your waist to move you back a bit.

Lando didn’t know why he hadn’t cancelled his membership. He was a millionaire, he could afford to lose a few thousand, but returning to the same place, every single day, at the same time, it felt like a natural part of him that he simply couldn’t go without.

Like a life source, almost needed to him as much as air was needed to him. Almost as much as you were needed to him. But he had a break between his triple header, so it had been a month after you both broke up, but he was back in his game.

That stupid pink set… why did he buy it for you? And why did he gave to see some girl in that same set with a guy helping her lift, who looked a lot like you…wait…

No way. Lando would’ve thought you’d cancelled the membership or something. He remembered the look on your face when he’d said he couldn’t do it anymore, the way your gorgeous eyes had shimmered with tears…he’d never forget that.

But seeing you here now, another man touching you, that’s what made him snap. “I’m gonna grab the rest of my shit, you go the showers,” the guy smiled to you. Way too friendly for Lando’s liking. “Hey,” he said, his voice sullen as he approached you.

“He- oh, uh, hi Lando,” you said, your face visibly falling as Lando narrowed his eyes. “Who’s that guy? You got a boyfriend?” he said, not even caring where he was going as he followed you. “No,” you said, your reply short and sharp. What right did Lando have to do this?

“You don’t get the right to act like-,” you started, but Lando cut you off, his voice sharper and harsher than you expected. “I don’t care what rights I have, I know them very well, thanks,” he said bitterly as you rolled your eyes, hanging up your bag in your locker.

“Still wear this, then?” he said, running a finger along the under band of your bra, your shoulders tensing. “Stop,” you batted his hand away as he scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Why have you moved on so quickly, hm?” he asked, “what, you’re that desperate for a cock?”.

“Oh don’t even,” you scoffed, “don’t make out like I’m a slut or what we,” you snapped, “you left my life, I have every right to move on from you, you left me!”. Lando’s jaw went slack, his eyes darkening. “I left you, yeah?” he said, your body jumping as he pushed your softly, back against the wall of the shower, locking the door.

“We agreed to move on!” he snapped, his voice louder than he intended. “Oh please, don’t act like you haven’t slept with anyone since then!” you said, equally as loud, taking his by surprise. “Why?” he said, his voice dropping of all its hate and and anger.

“Why do you look prettier without me, Y/N?”. That made you freeze. “What the hell does that mean?” you said, voice shaking shaking. “You look good, just as good. If not better,” he said, slowly letting his eyes trace your body. “Why did you move on so quickly?” his voice raised once more.

“Maybe you’re right!” you yelled, “maybe I do want cock, is that so bad?”. Lando clenched his jaw, his teeth grinding together almost painfully. “You want cock, yeah?” he said, “well I’ll give it to you,”. You were about to open your mouth to protest when his hand quite literally tore your sports bra off.

“Lando!” you hissed, the materials falling off your body in two pieces. “I bought it, I can rip it,” he said, dipping his head to press wet kisses to your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive spots, the ones he knew perfectly well, the ones he was so well accustomed to…

“I’ll buy it for you in every fucking colour if you do just shut the fuck up,” he snapped, nipping at your neck, finding a point along your collarbone, and sucking down on it, a moan leaving your lips as he held you against the cold wall of the shower.

He moved his hands down to the waist band of your leggings, a moan on your lips as he traced your wet folds through your panties. “Lando, fuck,” you gasped, hands clawing at his back softly, your nails digging into his skin as you tore his shirt off.

“You’re just fucking dick desperate, Y/N,” Lando scoffed, pulled his own joggers down, his cock springing hard against his abdomen as he moved your panties to the side, pumping his finger in and out of you, no care to go slower, his thumb rubbing circles over your clit.

“Couldn’t even last a month without crawling back like a desperate little slut,” he laughed, the sound cold and belittling, as you whined, his throbbing head pushing your folds apart, running over your aching bundle of nerves, teasing your entrance.

“Say you want it, Y/N,” he said, his head dipping down once more to run over the love bite he left on your neck, his cock slipping into you. “Oh fuck, Lan,” you gasped, your hands tightening over his biceps, nails scratching at his skin as he groaned.

“Tight as ever,” he said, holding himself inside of you, running a hand over the bump in your tummy. “Fuck, it’s like you’re made for me,” he said, slowly pulling out of you, leaving his head hanging inside of you as your cunt clenched again, tightening round his tip as he wrapped a hand round your neck.

His veins flexed as he slowly moved his hips, shifting the tempo til he was ploughing through your folds, your moans becoming louder and louder, eyes rolling as he held you against the wall. You hadn’t really gone a whole month without sex whilst dating Lando, so it didn’t take long for your orgasm to build up.

“Oh fuck,” you gasped, your heat enveloping his thigh member, the vein on the underside throbbing against your entrance, your breaths coming out short and sharp. “I’m gonna cum, Lando,” you gasped, one of his hands moving to your hair, the other rubbing across your clit.

“God, do it,” he said, your eyes squeezing shut as you both gasped, his thrusts becoming sloppy and your pussy clenching as your orgasm flushed, your thighs painted with thick ropes of cum, your body shaking. “We’re not done,” he said, his hand in your neck.

You whimpered, accepting the hoodie he thrust at your chest, pulling it over your head as you let him grab your hand, dragging you out of the changing room. The guy from earlier just watched as you were dragged away, grumbling under his breath about ‘bitches changing their minds’.

By the time you had come back to the apartment, it had barely changed, but the one place you were most acquainted with, aka, Lando’s bed, looked even more appealing than it ever had. “Lando,” you gasped as he dropped you onto your back, your body bouncing.

“Turn over,” he said, teeth gritted together as you nodded, your body bent over the edge of the mattress as he lifted the hoodie. “Always looked good in my shit,” he said, pushing his cock into you once more. “Oh god,” you gasped, your eyes rolling as he held himself in you again.

“Missed this, hm?” he asked, “still come to that stupid gym, all because of you,” he growled. “What?” you asked, just about managing to say the words without moaning, one of his hands pushing you it not he mattress, the sound of his hips snapping into yours echoing round the room.

The sound of his cock plunging into your wet heat, over and over again, it was filthy, your eyes rolling at the sound of it, Lando’s jaw going slack. “Can’t not go to that place when I used to take you there all the time,” he said, “you’d look so good…”.

“Can’t believe we never fucked there when we were dating,” he said, and all you could respond with was a moan as he toyed with your clit once more. “Missed you so bad,” he said after a few seconds, his lips parted with need and pleasure.

“Missed y-you too,” you choked out, your cunt clenching round him as you felt your second orgasm build up, the bump in your tummy prominent from his cock, thick and long inside of you. “Need you back,” you gasped, your hands helping your body to balance.

“Yeah? I want you too,” he said, leaning down to press surprisingly soft kisses to your neck and collarbone, as you whimpered. “Lando, please,” you moaned, “d-don’t say that,”. He frowned, his hips slowing down, not enough to deny your orgasm, but to make you focus on him.

“Why?” he asked, tilting your chin to look at him. “Don’t get my hopes up,” you said, body rocking as he frowned. “Y/N, I want you back,” he said, “truthfully, I want you back. We do long distance, I’ll visit after every race,” he said, almost pleading with you.

“W-We can talk about it,” you said, your cunt clenching round his thick member as your orgasm flushed through, Lando’s body lined with a sheen of sweat, his cheeks painted red as he slowed down, pulling out of you, his cum shooting along your thighs as you panted.

Fuck, you needed him back.

[veilchenjaeger]

First of all, hi! I love you! In a distant, non-creepy way, but yeah! I have no clue who you are but I saw your post about genderswapped SVSSS in the tag and god that's just amazing to think about.

You focused a lot on the Luo Binghe/PIDW aspect of it, which I love, but my thoughts immidiately went more to how characters in SVSSS would be changed.

Like if we take Shang Qinghua, who would be either be genderswapped from the start, or would be a trans woman now that Airplane is in her body. Part of her whole deal with Mobei-Jun is the grovelling, submissive attitude she keeps up in the beginning of their story. How would that read differently? Because it's mostly played for laughs, haha, look at that, that man has no dignity, that is not what men are supposed to be like, etc. But if it's a woman, it's seen more like her fulfilling her natural role, especially in a sexist society. Then it takes on more of a sad tone, of look what women have to do to survive, especially if Mobei-Jun is kept male. Personally I'd prefer him to be a woman in this AU, but then that raises the question, who else would be genderswapped?

How about Yue Qingyuan, Qi-jie? Who would be far more criticized for her preferential treatment of Shen Jiu, look at her, so irrational, her emotions are making her unfit to be a ruler.

Shen Jiu, of course, who visits the brothel. Rumours say that she's a sex addict, haven't you heard? Apparently she pays women to sleep with her, how terrifying. Because WLW are often put down for showing interest in sex, even if that isn't what Shen Jiu really was doing there. Either be chaste or be a predator.

Liu Qingge, who would not ascribe to traditional femininity at all, and would so be killed off in the beginning for breaking those stereotypes and being punished by the narrative for that, rather than her being a threat to the roll of the Protagonist.

Sorry for going off here, this really just tickled something inside my mind ^.^

HI! Never apologise for going off about lesbian SVSSS, my inbox is absolutely the place for that. And thank you so much for your kind words! Lesbian Bingqiu brings people together.

I honestly haven't thought much about characters other than Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe! That has three main reasons: A) I am a Bingqiu and especially Shen Qingqiu stan first and a human second, B) as you pointed out, a lot of these characters' plots could be used to showcase different kinds of sexism, which is technically a plus, but I personally am atm extremely picky when it comes to Stories About Sexism (as opposed to Stories Where Sexism Plays a Role), C) I think that a lot of these characters' plots as well as the general state of sexism in the PIDW universe would depend greatly on the genre this version of PIDW falls into. And I don't know enough about webnovel genre tropes to play around with that!

So, you've thought about that more than me, and you've got some excellent points here! Like, which characters do get genderbent? That works for some better than for others! And it's so intriguing to think about the way they would change accordingly, both in the PIDW universe and on the SVSSS meta level.

Like, Shen Jiu would likely have to be a woman, and yeah, the brothel visits would result in even harsher accusations like that. Not that I think Shen Jiu would care much more than he does in canon! But it would definitely play a major role in her downfall. (My brain immediately goes to Juvenal's take on Empress Messalina here bc I'm a useless historian. Did you hear the Qing Jing Peak Lord sells her body for fun? How disgraceful.)

My heart also wants Qi-jie ;-; I go back and forth on how much would change for Yue Qingyuan, because on the one hand, it would indeed be easier to paint Qi-jie as irrational, but on the other hand, kindness and compassion for her sect siblings might be expected of her and she might end up being seen as a victim of vile, vile Shen Qingqiu. (Especially since no one knows about the Qijiu backstory.) Again, I think it depends a lot on the PIDW genre! There might also be a lot of cultural stuff here re.: expectations and traditional gender norms that I don't know anything about.

Liu Qingge is the most difficult one imo! Bc on the one hand, he might work better as a guy, depending on the genre. Then again, Liu Qingge is gay and in love with Shen Qingqiu and that's important. The only thing I know about Liu Qingge is that they're trans because Liu Qingge is always trans.

Airplane tho! AIRPLANE. I have thought a lot about Airplane.

In a world of Luo Binghes and Shen Qingqius and Qi Qingqis and Sha Hualings, mousy grovelling Shang Qinghua would still keep a bit of that original ridiculousness, but she might also shamelessly use gender stereotypes to grovel even harder and even more effectively. Shen Qingqiu thinks it's setting back feminism hundreds of years. Shang Qinghua argues that 1) she never actually worldbuilt a feminist movement into PIDW so there's nothing to set back, and 2) if it works, it works.

I'm also intrigued by Airplane in the modern world, especially if we go for the "PIDW is targeted at straight men" route. Peerless Cucumber and Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky each give themselves obnoxious dick joke names to avoid unfortunate comments in a dudebro-dominated online space, completely unaware that the other did the same thing. Upon meeting post-transmigration, Shen Qingqiu is absolutely appalled that a woman would write that about Luo Binghe's tits multiple times with the exact same wording. (Don't think no one noticed your re-used phrases, Airplane!) Shang Qinghua shrugs and goes, "Bingjie's tits sell." Shen Qingqiu has an aneurysm.

Moshang would definitely only work for me if Mobei-jun were also a woman, for the exact reasons you listed. It's just... icky otherwise. (Also, making existing queer couples straight seldom sits right with me on a personal level.) What I love to think about is Mobei-jun as the stoic buff butchy queen of Airplane's fantasies that Luo Binghe couldn't be because that's not the kind of character who sells as a protagonist. Luo Binghe is too pretty and feminine for Shang Qinghua's taste; local femme4femme-in-denial Shen Qingqiu can have her. Shang Qinghua both wishes she had been a cool tomboy as a kid and wants to be thrown over a six feet tall butch's shoulder.

I'm getting carried away. The bottom line is: YEAH, there's a whole cast to fit into Bingjie's universe and so much to think about!

[threeletterslife]

Across the Madness

→ [7/7] of the Society Series

→ summary: It’s you and him versus six strange societies. It doesn’t sound too bad until you factor in the fact that you despise his guts. And he hates you right back. Home has never sounded so wonderful.

→ pairing/rating: seokjin x reader | PG-15

→ genre: 60% angst, 30% fluff, 10% crack | e2l!au & dystopian!au

→ warnings: profanity, mean insults, misogynistic men (but not our king seokjin), mentions of sex, death, blood and gore

→ wordcount: 28.6k

→ a/n: i cannot believe this series is finally finished!! i remember plotting the very first fic (the exam) three years ago. and it feels just like yesterday when i finished up writing fleeting forevers. this series will always have a special place in my heart. writing atm was an emotional rollercoaster ride; it unlocked so many old memories, and i realized how much i didn’t want to let these society series characters go 😭nevertheless, all good things must come to an end, though i’ll always cherish this series! anyways, hope you enjoy a lowkey slowburn e2l!!

Kim Seokjin is a pompous asshole. Of course, you could never say that to his face (although you really want to)—stupid corporate policy and all that. You do not want to be forced to sit through another one of those never-ending HR meetings after your last verbal fight with him.

"What is it this time?" Naeun giggles, sipping her iced Americano and leaning back in her seat. "So what ridiculous thing did he mansplain today?"

You groan, rolling your eyes way up to the ceiling. "Affirmative action."

"Ohhh no he didn't," Naeun gasps, hand hovering over her widened mouth. "I can just imagine all the shi—I mean, bad things he'd say."

"You wouldn't believe it," you say, rubbing your forehead. "He was going on and on about how affirmative action is unfair for people who genuinely deserved a chance but are disadvantaged for being advantaged in the first place."

"Oh god no," Naeun says, shaking her head in disdain. "Does he not realize that affirmative action is meant to help and support individuals who don't get the opportunities they deserve??"

"He definitely did not realize that..." you sigh. "You know what's worse? Half the men in the room were agreeing with him."

"No way!"

"I know. I had to step in and whip some sense into them. God, they're so stupid."

"It's a wonder we all ended up at the same law firm..." Naeun says. "And then they have the audacity to complain about affirmative action."

"As if they don't already benefit from it." You roll your eyes, picking up your still-steaming cup of coffee and warming your hands on it. "I know they're lawyers, but there are just some things you shouldn't argue about."

"Yeah, like rights," Naeun sighs. "But, of course, it's harder for them to understand what it's like to not have something when they have so much of it. An excess too," she snorts.

Your lips curve up slightly in a smile. You don't know what you would've done without Naeun. As the only two women in the office, you constantly feel outnumbered, outperformed and degraded. And people like Kim Seokjin don't make it any easier for you.

"I asked her to send me that brief of the Langshorn case five times now!" Seokjin says, throwing his hands up in the air. "It's been a week. No brief whatsoever. Sometimes, I wonder if she comes to work with her brain left at home."

"Maybe she's a little busy," Jimin offers. "She's been working on the Chamberlain case for a few weeks now. I think she's a little stressed about it."

"Dammit, Jimin, whose side are you on?" Seokjin sighs, running his fingers through his hair. "Y/N needs to know that she's a team player around here. There are fu—freaking deadlines to be met. Damn the freaking corporate profanity policy."

Jimin giggles slightly. "You know they made that policy because of you and Y/N."

Seokjin turns to glare at the shorter man, his glare so sharp that Jimin shrinks back a little. "You still want to take her out on a date?" Seokjin asks in astonishment.

Jimin shrugs. "Well, I already asked and kinda got rejected."

Seokjin raises his eyebrows. "I still can't believe you're somehow attracted to her. Her, Jimin. She tries so hard to be different and 'quirky,' and god, it drives me up the wall."

"Oh," Jimin grins. "I thought that was cute. She's pretty artistic for a lawyer. And she's easy on the eyes too, if you know what I mean."

"Yeah, well, good looks can't fool me," Seokjin says. "I still can't stand her."

"The whole office knows that," Jimin giggles. "The whole office also knows that she hates you. It's pretty common knowledge around here."

Seokjin's just about to open his mouth when you enter the room with Naeun by your side. Immediately, the two of you lock eyes and glare at each other.

"Come to the main room, a-hole," you say, crossing your arms over your chest. "We're discussing lunch orders."

Before Seokjin can throw a dull insult your way as a form of mild vengeance, you strut out of the room, head held high and heels clacking loudly on the wooden floor.

"She's got a model walk," Jimin points out quite unnecessarily.

"She just called me an a-hole," Seokjin says, eyebrows furrowing. "Are we in sixth grade?"

Jimin snorts. "Based on the arguments you two have? Yeah."

With the small group of lawyers on their lunch break crowded around the room, you and Seokjin don't feel the need to strangle each other's throats. You're leaning against the counter next to your close friend while Seokjin's sitting cross-legged on one of the only available chairs in the room. Of course he's sitting in the power seat. He's practically the unofficial official CEO of this place. A leader. And people have the nerve to follow him. Even the actual CEO adores him.

"I say we go to that sub place downtown. The place next to Starbucks," he says in a way where it almost seems like he's expecting everyone else to agree with him. And everyone does.

"Dude, I've been totally craving meatball subs," Jimin says, slapping his friend's back.

"You're talking about Taylor's, right?" Hoseok chimes in. "They have the best subs in the city. Hell, the county."

"So we're all going then?" Seokjin grins. It's the type of grin that would charm everyone passing by, but you're not that big of a fool to be drawn into it.

"Bossman says we need to stop filing out every lunch break. I'd say someone has to go pick up everyone's orders," you say, crossing your arms over your chest and staring at a certain man who's giving you a mean look.

Naeun, who is a literal angel, says, "Seokjin can go since he suggested it."

An unintelligible noise comes out of Seokjin's mouth, and he looks to Jimin as if to ask him to do something. Jimin seems to get the clue. "Well, Seokjin can't just go by himself... Y/N, why don't you go with him?"

The whole room falls silent. It's the most daring suggestion ever made in this law firm. It becomes so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

Finally: "Me?" you scoff, arms tightening over your chest. "Why me?"

Jimin shrugs, playing it cool while Seokjin is practically fuming next to him. "It'll be like a team-building exercise," Jimin says, winking at you.

You gape at him for a few seconds. Is this some twisted revenge because you rejected him last week?? The audacity!

"Fine," you say, to everyone's utmost surprise. You're not going to back down. "Let's go, a-hole."

Seokjin scoffs but he doesn't waste a single second, standing up immediately and straightening his button-up. "We'll be back in thirty minutes." He's just as stubborn as you are, unwilling to show a weaker side to an audience of co-workers. "Text one of us your orders." He'll play it cool—just until you're out of sight from the rest of the group.

As soon as you and Seokjin step out of the towering law firm building, Seokjin scoffs quite rudely. "I cannot believe the nerve of that imbecile."

You scoff right back at him. "Me?"

"No, you idiot. Jimin." He pauses for a second. "But you're right. You're an imbecile too."

You hate how such childish name-calling seems to insult you. "Shut up. Do you even know where the sub place is?" The faster you get there, the faster Seokjin will get out of your sight. The faster you'll get your normal serotonin levels back.

"Of course I know. I suggested it." You don't need to look at the man to know he's rolling his eyes dramatically at you. Without another word, he begins to walk quickly; if you hadn't looked up in time, you might've actually lost him to the city.

"Hey!" you say, frowning as you dash to catch up to Seokjin. "What the freak is your problem?"

To your utmost dismay, Seokjin laughs. "Are we in elementary school, now?"

You're almost embarrassed to admit that the corporate profanity policy has taken a toll on your speech habits. "We're supposed to go together," you say slowly, carefully enunciating every word so that even an idiot like Seokjin would understand. "Your buddy volunteered me to go. And there's no way you'll be able to carry twelve subs by yourself."

"You're underestimating my strength, fuzz-brain."

"Fuzz-brain?" You roll your eyes. "Is that the best you can come up with, a-hole?"

"I think it's quite better than a-hole," Seokjin claims, running his fingers through his gelled hair. "Leagues better, actually."

"God, you just can't lose, can you?"

"Oh? You don't really back down, either."

"Maybe that's why you love defending guilty people."

Seokjin whirls at you, eyes flashing. "My clients are your clients, idiot. If you have any complaints about the people you're defending, then take it up to HR or management. I'm just doing my fucking job."

"Yeah, right," you snort. "I pass on projects that don't align with my moral code."

"Are you sure it's not because you know you can't handle the case?" Seokjin seethes.

You swear you're not a violent person. But something about the way Seokjin fits his words together, something about his tone makes you want to snap your fist out and punch him in the gut. How this man even has friends is beyond you.

"Whatever," you say. Maybe if you show signs of retreat, he'll stop pestering you. You've never been so wrong.

"Whatever?" Seokjin says, lifting an eyebrow. "Thought you'd put up a bigger fight, fuzz-brain. Did law school do nothing for you?"

He's really pushing it now. "You know what, asshole?" you say, whirling around to face Seokjin. "Save yourself a fucking broken nose and stop talking."

"Are you threatening to punch me?" Seokjin laughs at your threat, much to your dismay. "Looks like you'll need a lawyer yourself to dig you out of that hole."

"Oh my god—" but you stop mid-rant. "Wait... Where are we?"

Your rude repartee with Seokjin had caused the both of you to completely forget about your surroundings, and now you're in an unfamiliar part of town, where there are no longer buildings encompassing the streets and no traffic at all. No people at all. It's almost as if the two of you had stepped into a different dimension. There are miles and miles of blatant emptiness.

"I thought you said you knew where you're going!" you accuse Seokjin. "Where is this place?" It's unsettling. The sky is a dusty, murky shade of blue and the ground is no longer covered in asphalt but brown dirt. When you turn back around, you can't see the tall law firm building anywhere. In fact, it's just miles and miles of dirt land stretching across like a never-ending plane.

"It's your fault for distracting me!"

"God! Do I always have to do everything?" you huff, pulling your phone out of your pocket and attempting to turn it on. "What the hell? I swear it was at full battery!"

"You idiot, you probably forgot to charge it." Seokjin takes out his own phone but is met with a glaring black screen.

"That can't be a coincidence," you say. "Something's wrong."

"Thanks for pointing that out, Captain Obvious."

"Well, I thought you were too thick to notice, being that we've been walking in this weird place for a while and you didn't even realize!"

"God! Just—Just shut up, for a second, all right? We have to fucking figure out a way to get back."

"We don't even know where we are!"

"You know what? We'll walk straight and see if anything comes up," Seokjin suggests.

"We don't know if anything's out there!" you cry. "What if this is some post-apocalyptic zombie world?"

"Listen to yourself. You literally sound like an idiot. That isn't possible," Seokjin snorts. "C'mon. We still need to get the subs."

"That's what you're thinking about right now? Meatball subs? You're joking, right?" you say. "For all we know, we crossed dimensions and we could be stuck. Forever."

"Well, I'm quite the dependable person, unlike you," Seokjin scoffs. "I promised our co-workers some subs. That's what I'll get them."

"You are freaking impossible."

But despite the fighting and blaming and verbal assaults, the two of you continue to walk the barren terrains, keeping a sharp eye out on anyone who could help. Preferably anyone alive. And not preferably the undead.

That's when the stench hits.

"God, what the hell is that smell?" you say, your face scrunching up in distaste as your hand flies to your nose to pinch it.

Seokjin takes a couple of seconds to sniff the air before blanching in agreement. "This can't be good."

"Yeah, no shit," you say. "But there is a chance that it's coming from you."

Seokjin throws you an irritated look. "Real mature of you. Real mature."

You're about to make a witty retort when something catches your eye. "Wait," you say. And for the first time, Seokjin listens without any useless arguing. "What the fuck is that?"

Seokjin looks toward where you're pointing and as soon as it hits his vision, he grimaces. "I think that's some kind of post-apocalyptic junkyard," he announces. "Either that or rotting corpses."

Despite the smell (and rather disturbing sight), the two of you walk closer and closer until you see that Seokjin is right. It is a dump. Trash is towered up so high that it's almost impossible to see what's beyond the junkyard. You can see the faint outlines of flies buzzing about and having a field day over... rotting bodies?

Quickly, you stumble back. "Shit... is that a graveyard?"

"Oh, don't be silly," Seokjin says, but his tone reveals that the sight makes him uncomfortable too.

What makes matters worse are the rats. They're fucking huge—so huge that you can discern them nibbling at carcasses from this far away. Instantly, you back up and Seokjin follows your movement.

"What the fuck..." he breathes, eyes trained onto the graveyard dump, unsure of what to make of it. "Maybe uh, maybe we should try that place instead?"

Your eyes follow where he is pointing—a cleaner, less dilapidated wall made of sparkling clear glass. On the other side, you can see faint hints of green meadows and... homes! Actual homes!

"So they must be the survivors of this apocalypse. And the dump is where they uh, dump their dead," you conclude. "We'll ask for help."

"And what the hell happened to this place."

"Right..."

Hatred temporarily put aside for the sole sake of survival, you and Seokjin inch closer and closer toward the grand wall. Up close, the wall is intimidating yet somehow beautiful. It reflects vibrant rainbows onto the dirt soil and almost blinds your vision as you and Seokjin try to find a possible opening.

After circling around the glass wall for who knows how long (and it seemed longer with all the incessant bickering you two started up again), Seokjin catches sight of the entrance of which is guarded by... soldiers? They're in sparkling silver armor, their faces hidden behind their helmets and their stances rigid and solemn.

You have no idea how happy it makes you see people other than Seokjin around here. "Hey!" you shout without much thinking, earning a harsh tug on your arm from your co-worker.

"You idiot!" he hisses. "We don't know if they're friendly or not!"

The moment you comprehend his words, you realize you'd made quite the amateur error.

"Stand back!" the guards yell, their voices booming from under their helmets.

They don't really have to tell you twice. "Uh, we come in peace!" Seokjin manages to yell at them.

You shoot a glare at him. "Really? Is that the best you could come up with?" you hiss at him. He rolls his eyes in response and you huff before raising your voice. "Excuse us, but could you please tell us where we are?"

There's a bit of an awkward silence where the guards all give each other hidden looks that you and Seokjin can't quite discern from so far. Slowly and cautiously, you step closer to the guards, hands raised in a placating manner. They don't make any moves to attack and after Seokjin sees it's safe, he follows right behind you. The guards seem to observe your advances carefully, and finally, one of them speaks up. "Are you Tagnasians?"

You and Seokjin pause momentarily. "Tagna what?" you say, brows furrowing. "Are we a what?"

The guards begin to regroup and murmur amongst themselves—except now, you and Seokjin are close enough to hear what they're actually saying.

"No, no, they're obviously playing dumb, I swear."

"Yes, they have to be lying."

"It's plausible."

"They told us to arrest and detain any wanderers."

Arrest? Detain?? Well, those aren't quite words you want to hear—even as a lawyer. You and Seokjin give each other a look, and for the first time, the two of you are connected enough to telepathically communicate that this place is trouble.

But before either of you can book it, the guards reveal a small, white hockey-puck-looking device from their pockets. You've only stepped one foot backward when they're hurling the pucks at you and your co-worker. The next thing you know, you see a flash of vivid, blue light and you've collapsed on the floor. As your eyes begin to flutter shut against your will, you curse Kim Seokjin for ever suggesting to get lunch at Taylor's Sub Kitchen.

Blinding white light floods your vision. Which is weird because your eyes are closed—and it defeats the purpose of resting, so you force your eyes open to find yourself on a cold, metal table. Not only that but your four limbs have been bolted securely to the surface, rendering you immobile and uncomfortable.

For a split second, you panic, wondering where the hell you are. Quickly, your eyes frantically scan the room. Only to see it quite filled with formally dressed people. They're all scrutinizing you through their dark goggles. You can't help but glare back.

You have questions and you need answers; but by the looks of it, you're their experiment, ready to be poked and prodded to answer their inquiries.

"Good," an icy cold voice cuts through the silence, "you're awake. It's been nine hours."

You follow the voice and come eye to eye to a woman. She's frowning, her attire starkly different from those around her. Contrasting from suits and ties and knee-length pencil skirts and white blouses, she's wearing an old, frayed sweater and a pretty locket sits between her collarbones. Though she's the least formally dressed in this room (including you), she radiates an aura of authority and charisma. The others look like her minions. Yet you're rendered unimpressed.

"Where am I?" you demand, straining against the locks around your wrists.

The woman narrows her eyes. "Why, you're in Utopia, where you'll be kept until we figure out who you are."

"Utopia?" you let out a scoff of disbelief. "You mean like the fictional place?"

The woman sneers. "Don't play games with us, Tagnasian. All we want is some information. We'll pull it out of you bit by bit, and it won't be pretty."

"Information??" you say, bewildered. "You must be joking. I don't even know where I am. And wait..." With all this newfound commotion, you'd almost forgotten about your rude co-worker. (Although you wish you'd unremembered him altogether.) "Where's Seokjin?"

"Oh? Your partner?" The woman smirks. "He wasn't cooperating with us. Consequently, we sent him down to Dystopia until he's ready to acquiesce."

It's almost as if Dystopia is Utopia's Alcatraz. Now you have two new names to deal with and little to no answers. "Where am I?" you try again. "Where is this place, really?"

It's almost as if the woman finds amusement in your confusion. "You know where you are."

"I... don't." You want to rub a frustrated hand over your forehead but alas, your hands are chained down. "Listen," you sigh, "I'm from um, Earth, okay?" Might as well start it simple—in case you were on an alien planet.

The woman looks at you as if you'd just told her that you've lived on Neptune for the past three years. She steps back and frowns, her features creasing heavily. "You're... not the brightest, aren't you?"

You scoff. You did not study your ass off in law school to be called an idiot by your co-worker all the time and a complete stranger to tell you that you're 'not the brightest.'

The others behind the women begin to whisper and you catch what one of them says quite clearly: "Governess... maybe we should send her down to Dystopia... Her partner did seem more intelligent than her."

Your blood boils. Seokjin more intelligent than you?? In what universe?? But your boiling blood turns icy cold when the woman—deemed as the Governess—announces, "Very well." She turns to you, her chin raised and head cocked slightly back. "We are on Earth, just to clarify... If you were too ignorant to realize, that is."

Somehow, this woman irks your strings almost as much as Seokjin does. "Well, this doesn't look like the Earth I know!" you protest.

At that, the Governess raises her eyebrows. "So you're claiming that you know another Earth?"

"Um, hello? Seven continents? Countries? The seven seas???"

You didn't think it was possible for the Governess to raise her eyebrows any more than before, but she proves you wrong. "Yes, that, I am aware of," she says, quite unimpressed. But upon looking at your bewildered, panicked face, she seems to take pity on you. Her features soften just slightly. Then, she speaks: "You mentioned the seven continents. Do you know what they are?"

It's a fifth-grade geography lesson all over again. "Of course I do! Africa, Antarctica, Asia, Australia, Europe, North America and South America—in alphabetical order," you list off. "What does this have to do with anything?"

"The capital of Australia?" the Governess asks, ignoring your previous question.

You frown, eyebrows knitting at her strange inquiry. "Aren't there eight?"

"Capital of India, then."

"...New Delhi..."

You feel like you've been thrown back into elementary school, getting drilled by your teacher for a good final exam grade in geography class.

"What about Canada?"

"Ottawa..."

"The United States of America?"

"Washington, D.C.," you sigh. "And before you ask, the D.C. stands for District of Columbia—named after the idiotic prick of a guy, Christopher Columbus. Is that enough for you? Do you need more? In 1492, Christopher Columbus sailed the ocean blue—"

"No, no, that is quite enough," the Governess cuts you off. She looks a little taken aback at your outburst, but in your defense, you just don't start arguments with someone who graduated from law school. And not only does the Governess look surprised but also she looks quite impressed. She turns to the others behind her and not-so-quietly whispers, "A Tagnasian wouldn't know any of this."

That's good news for you. Maybe that means you're not a threat anymore. "Who the hell are the Tagnasians? And why do you think I'm one of them? And if this is Earth, then when is it??"

The Governess slowly turns around, her eyes meeting yours. Though her face is serious, there's a small twinkle in her eye that makes it seem like she's not as scary or intimidating as she tries to be. "Everyone out," she commands in a clear, booming voice. "I'll talk to her alone."

Immediately, the others scramble out of the room, not wanting to disobey the person in charge. The moment the last person leaves and shuts the door, the Governess whirls around at you with a bright smile on her face. You're confused, feeling a little unsettled with her change in personality. But the Governess surges forward and releases you from your chains.

"Oh my god," she breathes. "Oh my god. I wonder how this is possible!" she squeals excitedly. "I just knew you weren't Tagnasian! I have to apologize for my cabinet. Honestly, they're all lunatics, thinking a Tagnasian would even dare to attack us!"

You blink rapidly, wondering if you'd skipped a few minutes of your life. Is the Governess trustworthy now? Is she on your side? Does this mean anything?? But before you can act upon your questions, the Governess drops a figurative bomb on you.

"Oh god, this is great! You seem to know all the old capitals and continents. So that can only mean that you're from the past!"

Your jaw drops open. "The past?? So I'm in the future right now."

"Yes, exactly!" the Governess exclaims. "Well, your future, my present."

"Oh god." You massage your head, unable to think of coherent words to string together. Impossible.

The Governess grins. "You don't understand. It's been ten years since I've come here to Utopia... And never have I witnessed something as fascinating as this!"

In your nearly twenty-seven years of living, you've also never witnessed something as jarring as this. How could she call this fascinating?? "Where—I mean, when exactly is this place?"

The Governess' bright countenance morphs into a look of melancholy. "I can answer both when and where, actually," she says to your surprise. "There was an apocalypse years ago. It was a lethal plague that started in North America and spread to the rest of the world too quickly. All in a span of three years, too. The world was dying—and that was in 2220—so about a hundred-ish years ago. But the remaining survivors banded together and made civilizations."

It's a story that sounds like it'd run straight out of one of those teen Dystopian novels that trended back in 2013. You don't know what to make of it, what to think of this future.

"This society here is Atna, the most advanced society," the Governess continues on. "Our technology is unrivaled, but, the trade-off is that we're brutal," the Governess says. Her fingers reach up to grasp at the pretty, silver locket around her neck. "We've been working on exterminating the less, um... the less intellectually capable."

You don't like the way that sounds. "What does that mean?"

"Well, we're in Utopia now... God, how do I explain this? So, Atna is divided into three cities. You have Utopia, Dystopia and Purgatory. Every child from Utopia and Dystopia is put into Purgatory from ages ten to eighteen. They're supposed to study there, and when they turn eighteen, they'll take a test. Only the top-scorers get to come to Utopia."

You scoff. "What?"

It's almost as if the Governess had expected your reaction. "Yes, I know. We're technically all victims."

And you thought your college experience was cut-throat. "So everyone here is... smart."

"You would say so."

"And you...?"

"The only Atnatian to attain a perfect score on the Exam."

"Oh. Wow." So that's why they made her the Governess, whatever power that entails.

"I know..."

"I don't think that sounds fair."

"It isn't." The Governess looks quite grim. "But it's the way we work around here. Look, I'll convince the others that you're not a threat. And we still have to get your boyfriend out of Dystopia too." She looks a little conflicted at that idea. "But I'm actually not allowed to go there."

"Why not?" you challenge.

"Utopians aren't allowed to leave Utopia. They aren't allowed to be... sullied."

The raging privilege culture in this place infuriates you, but you take a deep breath, attempting to calm yourself down. "It's okay. I can go to Dystopia, then. He's my co-worker, so I guess he's my responsibility." Unfortunately, you want to add. But wait until he finds out this whole place is based on merit. Maybe he'll want to stay here forever—if staying in a future-apocalyptic Alcatraz didn't traumatize him enough, that is.

The Governess sneaks you out of the clean white room they'd kept you in, and you pass corridors and corridors of stark white floor and glass walls. Outside, there are sparkling fountains and verdant green grass lawns that stretch over flat planes and futuristic-looking glass buildings. It looks exactly how you'd expect a Utopia to look. Even the cloudless sky is unpolluted—the brightest blue you've ever seen in your life. They'd somehow learned to clean the air within the walls.

But you have to stay wary. These people leave the 'less intelligent' in a jail-like place; you do not want to get on their bad side. And you don't even fully know the Governess' true intentions. Still, the way she weaves left and right through the building with grace and confidence, all the while shielding you from prying workers makes her trustworthy for now.

"We can't take any of the transportation systems," the Governess whispers to you when the two of you reach outside the building you had been in.

"So they won't track me?"

"It's more like they don't have a public transportation system that goes to Dystopia."

"Oh."

"But I've taken the chip out of my car. You know how to drive, right?"

You sputter a confused yes, which is followed by a black, shiny vehicle rolling up right in front of you. There is no one in the driver's seat. "Wait..."

"Ah, I forget you're from the past," the Governess smiles. "Well, you're going to want to sit in the passenger seat. There will be some buttons on the dash, and if you search up Dystopia on the keyboard, it comes up."

That is definitely not the way driving works back home but nevertheless, you turn to the Governess. "Thanks," you say, gauging her expression and wondering why she wants to help you. Though the Governess seemed like she was in need of an interesting moment in her life, you doubt that was her only reason. There's something complex about the Governess—something you can't quite put your finger on as of now. There just has to be an explanation as to why she puts on a façade of coldness in front of others but decides to be kind to you. She just met you, and yet she trusts you? Maybe you'll figure it all out later.

"Go," the Governess tells you, waving you off. "Try the home button to find me again."

You look behind you one last time to glance at the Governess, but quickly, you slide into the car. She can wait but right now, you'll have to act as Seokjin's prince charming. But you swear if he isn't grateful at all that you come to his rescue, you might just leave without him. The real problem isn't getting him out of Dystopia, anyway—it's to get back home to the present.

The car is spacious and smells of fresh roses. You tap on a couple of buttons on the dash (which also turned out to be holographic), and the car begins to move on its own, steering down the street. From the rearview mirror, you can see the Governess standing, her frayed sweater-clad on her body as she clasps her necklace with both hands. There's just something about her expression that makes it seem as though she is happy for you. Soon, though, the car is far enough so that she's no longer in view. You spend most of the car ride trusting that it's taking you to the right location and looking out the spotless windows.

And gradually, very gradually, the outside scenes begin to transform from bright green grass and wonderfully groomed parks to a dirt road—and nothing but dirt. The land looks grim here. You can even swear that the bright blue sky had gotten darker. According to the holographic dash, this is Purgatory. To the right, you spot several run-down buildings made of chipped bricks, which you can only assume is where the children are forced to study. A little far away from the largest building, however, is a giant hole. Somehow, it's deeper than it is wide—so much so that you can't even tell where the bottom is from your seat in the vehicle.

Why would they even dig such a big hole in the first place? The more you think about it, the more it unsettles you. So you look the other way, fidgeting with your hands in your seat. A part of you thinks you're still in bed and you're dreaming this whole scenario—more of a nightmare than a sweet dream, too. How could you be walking to get meatball subs with your worst enemy and end up in a mess like this? You don't even know if Seokjin had already gotten out. This whole plan might just be void.

Usually, when you're deep in thought, nothing can bring you out—with the exception of raucous noises. However, it's not a sound that makes you break from your mind, it's a smell. No, a stench. Your eyes flit to the window of the car, only to be met with heaps and heaps of...?

Trash? No, bodies. Rats, too. So many fucking rats.

You grip the sides of your seat. The Governess had painted a picture in your mind that Dystopia was more like a prison. You did not expect to see totally unlivable conditions. You stare in horror as people—actual humans—start to come into view. Chills run down your spine. They're more bone than skin, and some of them don't even have proper clothes on. These are some of the humans of the future. It's frightening.

A crowd of rats is chittering away in one of the heaps of trash. It takes you a second to realize that they're feasting upon a small carcass—no, a corpse. A child. You feel bile rise up your throat, eyes watering at the same time from the sheer fetid smell.

How can anyone live here? How can Utopians live in their mansions and not feel one ounce of remorse for these Dystopians?

At this rate, you're starting to doubt whether Seokjin is alive. It's been around nine to ten hours; that's a good amount of time for the rats to have gotten to him already. Maybe he's dead. But not even Seokjin deserves to die like this. Gathering up courage, you manage to steal another glance out the window, only to catch glimpses of Dystopians warily watching you, hidden behind pillars of junk and mud.

They're scared of you.

You're in a shiny, black car—obviously not starving or covered in dirt. They must think you're here to deliver bad news. Momentarily, you freeze. Utopia is so spacious, and its resources are bountiful. It doesn't make sense that the Utopians can't share. This place... it's nowhere near as livable as Purgatory. And how will kids born in Dystopian families compete with the Utopian children? Your mind is racing, running over the logistics and not liking any of the results. What the fuck. This is worse than what you had to deal with at home—where the rich become richer and the poor become poorer. It looks like in the future, the situation's gotten worse.

The car teeters over the bumpy mud, occasionally sloshing in dirt water but soon comes to a full stop. Then begins the contemplation. Are you going to actually look for Seokjin? What is the extent to which you'll search for him? Well, you've come this far, so you might as well try...

You inhale deeply before making the decision to roll down the window and call that idiot's name. But that doesn't happen until a few more minutes because you struggle to find the button that controls the car windows. Alas, you find it on the holographic dash and press it. Immediately, a warm, gross stench fills the car, completely wiping out the sweet smell of rose. You struggle to keep a straight face.

"Hey, a-hole!" you yell.

You'd actually meant to call his name. But after the trouble he made you go through by not keeping his mouth shut? There's no way.

"Where are you??" you shout.

Glancing around, you can see the curious Dystopians staring at you strangely, giving you side-eyes and disgruntled looks. Seokjin better hurry up or you might even be forced to leave.

That's when you see a familiar figure.

It's Seokjin.

He's lost the impossible glow to his skin, along with his confident and arrogant strut. In fact, he looks defeated. When he's closer, you can see that his clothes have become tattered and his face marred with dirt. He looks like he'd been struck by a hurricane of all things.

"Shut up!" he shrieks.

What a warm welcome.

The Dystopians carefully watch the scene unfold before them, but they don't act, don't move at all.

When Seokjin reaches the car, he frowns at the empty driver's seat and then slides into the back, shivering beyond control. "Get me the fuck out of here," he says, gritting his teeth.

You quickly roll up the window with the click of a button and turn around to look at him. God, he looks horrible. It almost makes you feel bad... but then again, his attitude is ungrateful and it ticks you off.

"Really? That's the first thing you're gonna tell me after I save your ass?"

"Second thing, actually," Seokjin mutters underneath his breath. He tries to run his fingers through his sweaty and matted hair but with no luck. The man gives up. "The first thing I told you to do was shut up."

You glare at him. "We have to do something, you know."

"Do what???" Seokjin yells, his voice raised and eyes widened. "Just get me out of here! Please!"

He sounds desperate. And he did say the magic word. But you can't just roll up in a fancy car in Dystopia and just save one person. Something called your moral compass doesn't find that idea so hot.

"Please. Let's get the fuck out of here. I can't stand it."

You look back at Seokjin and then out the window. Most of the Dystopian borns have already started to mind their own business again. Maybe you can ask the Governess what to do. Maybe (with her intelligence) she can come up with a brilliant plan to better Dystopia. And you've never seen such a desperate look on Seokjin. It's not really the time, but you almost feel satisfied.

Just enough to press the button on the holographic dash labeled 'home.'

"Yeah. You know what? Let's get you home."

Seokjin had thought you were pulling a massive prank on him. That you orchestrated this whole society thing and created a scary Dystopia to shove him in there to teach him a lesson. All because you'd uttered, "Let's get you home." Of which, Seokjin believed that home had actually meant home. As in the Earth the two of you know. He didn't believe that home had actually meant the strange Governess' mansion of a house.

You've never seen that man be so silent, so... unargumentative. Usually, you two can go back and forth with banter, but whatever was in Dystopia must have scared him silent. In fact, the whole car ride to the Governess' home had been silent, which was uncharacteristic of both of you.

The Governess seems happier than you to see Seokjin back, and she quickly offers him a gigantic bath. He doesn't need much convincing to accept it. When Seokjin comes out from the bathroom, he's in fresh, elegant clothing and there are no more traces of dirt on his skin.

Over a lavish dinner of excess food and drinks, the Governess fills Seokjin in with Atna's intentions and what Dystopia really is. You just eat quietly, gauging Seokjin's shocked expressions and wondering if that experience of his would do anything to change his character. You doubt it though. Kim Seokjin's one stubborn man.

"So... What you all said," Seokjin begins slowly. He's choosing his words carefully as if he can't even believe what he's saying. "You're saying that people who live there compete with the people who live here???" He shakes his head, scoffing and running his fingers through his clean hair. "How would that even logistically work?"

Your eyes widen at his words. For a man who had so vehemently argued against affirmative action, this is quite the improvement. You actually find yourself agreeing with him. The Governess sinks back in her seat, shrugging her shoulders and picking up a twinkling glass of bubbling amber liquid and downing it in one gulp.

"It just works," she answers.

"But what if only one person consistently scores the highest every year? Kinda like what you did. The population in Utopia won't benefit from that at all," you point out. "Utopia is underpopulated and judging from what I saw in Dystopia, it's pretty overpopulated."

The Governess shakes her head. "My year it was rare. You see, usually, there are about seven to fifteen kids who tie for the highest score. And apparently, that's enough to keep Utopia alive." The silver locket sitting between her collarbones sparkles in the bright light of the chandelier hanging above the tall ceiling as she mindlessly plays with the fraying ends of her wool sweater. "It's enough to keep the government happy."

Seokjin stands up abruptly, knocking over his chair in the process. "It's wrong," he says, surprising you and the Governess. "It's unfair."

Pressing your lips together, you turn to stare at Seokjin. "Oh so since you've experienced it now, you think it's unfair, huh?" The words come out filled with scorn and contempt, which you didn't exactly mean, but it's too late now.

"No one should have to worry about food and shelter and disease while studying at the same time," he says. "The priorities are uneven."

You raise your eyebrows. So Seokjin's a tactile learner, you suppose. He's got to experience something to make sense of it.

"That's unfortunately what I've been saying for years," the Governess sighs. "I don't think I can do anything."

"Aren't you the Governess?" Seokjin asks, crossing his arms over his chest. He remains standing looking down at the woman with a look of surprise. "You're practically the mayor of the city."

"Well... yes, but—"

"Can't you just abolish Dystopia and Utopia?" you cut in before Seokjin begins to drill the poor Governess with passive-aggressive questions.

"I-I'm... I'm not sure. But you have to understand that the point of Dystopia and Utopia is to divide those who are intelligent and unintelligent."

This time you're the one who stands up in disbelief. "Hold on. Hold the fuck up. Hey, look. I didn't get into my fourth-grade gifted class, but I still made it as a lawyer," you say. "A little IQ test hurt my confidence as a kid. I thought I was fucking stupid for the longest time." You shake your head, staring right into the Governess' eyes. "But it's not that easy to define intelligence."

The Governess looks away, fidgeting uncomfortably. "I know... I mean, I knew a boy once. Back when I was a lot younger." She sighs in a way that makes you feel sorry. She holds pain in her eyes and her lips tremble before she speaks again. "We both hated the system. And he was one of the most intelligent people I knew. His older brother had started a revolution in Purgatory and well, they decimated everybody in his year." She shudders at the thought but continues on, pacing herself and not once looking up to you and Seokjin. "Taehyung," she whispers, fingers flying up to grasp her locket. "We were supposed to beat the Exam. We were supposed to win. But we couldn't. As you know, I was the only person who scored the highest on that year's exam. And I... So I lost him to this place. This fucking mansion."

"I'm sorry," you say, features softening as you slowly sink back in your seat. You want to reach across the table and hold her hand, console her, help her in some way. The Governess lives in a vast estate, hundreds of Utopian citizens and workers praise her for her intelligence—yet she is broken. Maybe even lonely.

"That's terrible," Seokjin offers. He uprights his chair and slides into it too, brows knitting together in pity. "But that just proves that there is no purpose in dividing the intelligent and unintelligent around here," he says. "Why even give the Dystopians a chance when you won't even support them? When you obviously favor the Utopians?"

You're about to yell at him for being so insensitive, but the Governess, with her sad-looking face answers anyways. "They say it's equal. I'm actually Dystopian-born myself, and I admit I worked twice as hard to get to where I am now. And even then, I had my advantages... A Utopian-born who shared the knowledge his parents illegally bought. A... friend who shared his medicine, his clothes, his warmth..." She holds herself, running her fingers across the woolly fabric of her sweater.

"So... it's not equal," you say. "They say it is, but obviously it's not."

"Then, my question is, why can't you make Dystopia equal? Why not fund them? Build them proper houses? A goddamn plumbing system? Give them fucking jobs?" Seokjin says, his voice rising with each consecutive question. "Just because they're 'unintelligent,' they don't get to be treated as human beings?"

It seems as though he'd learned a thing or two in the long hours he'd spent in Dystopia. You're almost impressed.

The Governess, however, downcasts her head in response. "But Atna was founded on the basis of weeding out the unintelligent."

"But that's the fucking problem!" Seokjin erupts. "You said it yourself that you were the only one who made it in your year. But you had a friend! An equally intelligent friend who didn't make it because of a bullshit system!"

To balance out Seokjin's outbursts, you try to speak a little calmly. "Whatever test you take might just be an unfair judgment," you offer.

And to your utmost surprise, Seokjin nods at you. It's insane—you can't remember the last time the two of you agreed on something.

Then there's a bit of silence as the Governess thinks. "... There might actually be some ways to go about this, I suppose."

"They planted in your head to be subservient," you say, "but you're the Governess, for fuck's say," you say. "You can make some suggestions, and they might listen since your judgment will always be assumed as sound."

"Exactly," Seokjin chimes in. "By their standards, you're the most intelligent person in this whole city. So by all means, propose a change."

The Governess looks up for the first time in a while. There's a little twinkle in her eye and a small smile playing on her lips. She's impressed. "You two are quite the duo."

Seokjin snorts. "We just get paid to argue."

"And we're pretty damn good at persuading too," you add on.

The Governess laughs, and it's a loud kind of laugh. Not exactly dainty but boisterous and obviously full of genuine happiness. "You two remind me a lot of myself and Taehyung," she smiles. "Listen, your words and insight have gotten me out of the slumps I've been in for who knows how long. I want to help you get back home in return. If you really are from the past... We Utopians haven't exactly figured out time travel yet, though we're working on it..."

"Oh, god," Seokjin groans, massaging his forehead. "I completely forgot this isn't our home. This whole thing is surreal!" he exclaims.

You nod in agreement. "Didn't you say there were other societies out there?"

Seokjin turns to you in astonishment while the Governess frowns slightly. "Yes, I did mention that some time... But I don't recommend you go tour them."

"Why not?" You cock your head in curiosity. "We're in the future. Might as well get a good look around."

Seokjin scoffs and for a second, you think you two have resorted back to stupid arguments, until: "You know what? As reckless and stupid as that sounds, I guess it makes some sense, fuzz-brain."

You scoff right back at him. "Fine. A-hole."

"You're crazy," the Governess says, gaping at the two of you. "You don't want to go to Tagna."

"Tagna..." The name sounds familiar. "Oh! You thought I was a Tagnasian!"

"While we value education and intelligence, they quite excessively value equality," the Governess tries to explain. She's got one of those worried frown creases on her forehead, but it's almost as if she knows that nothing she'll say will stop you two from doing what you want. She's right.

"I don't think valuing equality can go badly," you say. "At least Seokjin won't get stuck in a dystopia there."

Your co-worker snorts, but strangely, he brushes off the comment and turns to the Governess. "I think Tagna might be cool to explore for a while."

The Governess just shrugs your shoulders. "It's clear I won't be able to stop you two."

"You're right," you laugh.

"In that case, Tagna's just left of Dystopia. If you walk straight, it'll be there," she says. "But I'm warning you in advance that they're dangerous."

Seokjin laughs. "I somehow survived ten hours in Dystopia with no prior knowledge of survival and the society itself. I think I'll be fine at least."

You roll your eyes, but when you turn to the Governess, you see that she's just smiling and shaking her head. "All it took was one conversation from a couple of capable adults to change my perspective."

She sounds grateful and even more hopeful of her future here at Atna. Her fingers dance around her silver locket again, and you can't help but suspect that it's either a gift, or there's something significant inside. Either way, you know that all of you will never forget this encounter, and in some way or another, it'll affect your lives.

You and Seokjin bid the Governess your final goodbyes. After she tells you precise instructions of how to sneak out of her estate and out of Utopia's guarded walls, you two are off, walking side by side and into a strange, possibly stranger world.

"This is not what I expected," you whisper to Seokjin.

"Why are you whispering?" he asks in a booming loud voice that makes you grit your teeth. A few Tagnasians look at both of you strangely before walking away in a hurry.

You glare at Seokjin. Apparently, his stay in Dystopia hadn't completely demolished his arrogance. "This place feels... surgical."

There's no other way to describe it. Unlike Utopia, there are no lavish green lawns or towering mansions or bubbling fountains. Quite unlike Dystopia, Tagna is absent of rats, carcasses and foul stench. And there is no dirt at all. Instead, the ground consists entirely of smooth off-white stone and it seems to stretch on and on forever. The buildings look quite similar to each other with slight variations and the people—why are they all wearing the same thing?

"As ironically as I like equality... this is taking it... uh, a little too literally," you try to explain. "And some of these people are giving us mean looks for not conforming."

"It's like high school all over again," Seokjin snorts. "At least there isn't anything that poses as a threat around here. Lemme tell you in Dystopia, literally everything—"

"Hey!"

The loud, booming voice makes you nearly jump out of your skin. When you and Seokjin whirl around, you see a man in the same plain, gray attire as the others, but there's a small silver badge pinned to his chest that makes you assume he's some sort of law enforcement; a cop.

"W-Who are you?" the cop stutters. For law enforcement, he's not very intimidating. He must not be very used to any wandering stragglers—either that or he's new. "W-What do you two want?"

You glance at Seokjin, unsure of what to say, but luckily, that man has an answer for everything. "We're just visiting, officer."

However, that hadn't been the answer the cop had been looking for because the next thing you know, you're standing before what the Tagnasians apparently call, the Council. Seokjin thinks it's their government system. You hate to admit that he's right, but you have to agree.

There is a grand panel of serious-looking older men and women—somewhere in their early forties, which is odd considering that most government leaders back where you're from are well past their sixties. But through the slits of their eyes, they scrutinize you and Seokjin, shaking their heads disdainfully and disapproving of the way the two of you do not conform with the rest of their society. The cop presents you and Seokjin to the Council. Their whisperings cease.

"Ah," a man sitting in the middle speaks. He's got graying hair, a few wrinkles on his forehead, obviously a little older than the others, but he at least has a friendly demeanor. "It has been quite a while since we've gotten refugees."

You turn to Seokjin to give him a look, but when you find that he's not looking at you, you resist the urge to roll your eyes, looking back at the members of the Council.

"You are welcome to stay here in our humble society of Tagna," another member speaks out. "You'll like it here, refugees."

This time, Seokjin looks at you, but you're too entranced by what the Council is saying to meet his glance. He scoffs and proceeds to stare straight ahead.

"Tagna has a special place called Everland," a woman speaks out. "Only our best, our most esteemed are invited to be transported there."

"Everland is a place where the skies are cerulean blue," another chimes in. "The grass is green year-round and sparkling lakes stretch across the land. The weather is always quite lovely."

"A paradise."

"Yes, long, long ago, we humans fought wars over our slightest differences. We've faced terrorism, homicide, arson—over the smallest bits of jealousy and hatred," the man in the middle speaks. "But Tagna rids us of our differences. We are all equals in this place."

You glance at Seokjin and somehow find weird comfort in the fact that he's looking at you too. Almost as if to say, 'the way they put it, this doesn't sound too bad at all.' And if he did mean that, then you'd have to agree. You have no idea what's been happening to the Earth after the year 2220, but you can only assume that people have only increased their aggression against each other for the smallest differences. If it was that bad at home in your present, you can't imagine how worse it's gotten—and especially with a deadly plague.

"As our most esteemed refugees, the Council is quite honored to offer you an opportunity to explore Everland," the Council leader speaks. He smiles warmly and nods to you and Seokjin. "We want you to make yourself at home."

"Oh," you laugh politely, shaking your head. "Actually, Seokjin and I are just visiting, if that's all right."

Seokjin nods. "We were wondering if we could get a quick look around Tagna and Everland."

The Council leader smiles. "Of course, of course. But I would like to warn you... No one ever wants to come back from Everland. It is a Utopia."

"A Utopia, huh?" you snort, lying across your hospital bed and scratching at your semi-itchy patient gown.

Seokjin looks at you and shrugs. "Sounds familiar. What is with the future's obsession with Utopian societies?"

"No idea," you say, rolling your eyes. "But I mean, at least the Governess was wrong about them. The Council's pretty accommodating."

"I hate agreeing with you, but yeah. Still think shoving us in a hospital is weird, though."

You sigh. "Were you not listening to a single thing they said? That's the only way we can get transported. The nurse said it's a complex process and we need to prepare for it."

"I was listening," Seokjin grumbles. "It seems as though Atna isn't as intelligent as they think they are," he says. "The Tagnasians have already figured out all that dimension-traveling jazz. We'll definitely have to ask them to help us get back home later."

"That's the first solid idea you've had since you were born," you snort.

Seokjin glares at you. "You seem to forget that I saved your ass on the Morder case, do you not?"

You whirl around and face him, jaw hanging slightly. "You're kidding me. I missed one detail. I would've figured it out in a couple more days."

"Yeah, your client would've been ecstatic about that, huh?"

"Why do you always bring up the oldest shit to argue with me?" you counter. "It's not helping our situation at all!"

"You're the one who keeps starting it," Seokjin scoffs. "Besides, I'm the one who had to stay in Dystopia by myself, and I'm still letting you go around to face the other fucking societies!"

"You were stranded there for what, like ten hours? Some people are born there you fucking asshole. Did you even learn anything??"

Before Seokjin can yell at you, the door opens and your nurse pops his head into the room. "I heard yelling," he says. "Is everything all right?"

"No," you and Seokjin say at the same time—both with equal annoyance.

The nurse stares a little before quickly gathering his thoughts. "Well, Seokjin, why don't we get you back to your room so we can let Y/N rest a little? It's not good to transport to Everland with any sort of irritation. We want you to be as calm and happy as possible."

Begrudgingly, Seokjin saunters out of your room, following the nurse's orders. When the both of them leave, you let out a sigh of relief. How the fuck you got stuck with an ape of a man is beyond you, but as soon as you tour Everland, you'll be ready to leave. You miss home. You miss Naeun, who always backed you up when Seokjin said some sort of bullshit. You miss being in a normal society with a government that you can sort of maybe trust. It's better than a government that allows discriminating against intelligence levels and another government that is, for some reason, obsessed with preciseness and hospital-like procedures. For a second, you almost feel the urge to run out of this room and ask the Council if they can take you home. But if you do, you're going to miss the opportunity of a lifetime. You're going to a Utopia—another dimension. If you don't take this chance, you're never going to be given another. Someone as annoying as Seokjin can't stop you from experiencing the supernatural.

Cursing that pompous man out in your head, you soon fall asleep vowing that you're not going to leave until you've seen Everland.

During the next few days, with your nurse's blessing, you explore the hospital. There's this pretty hallway that lights up nicely with its long window panes. You like to stand there and look out at the lawn outside.

You can't exactly remember the last time you've gone this long without talking to someone. Though you've tried making conversation with the others in this hospital, no one looks like they have the time to carry on small talk. And your nurse is one of the most boring people ever to have graced this Earth; you've found that talking to him is akin to talking to a brick wall. All he ever wants to do is tell you stories of Everland that are too pixie fairy-dusty for your taste and offer you the emotional support that you don't need. He also likes to answer questions that you never asked.

"Yes, Y/N! Tagna is quite the advanced society."

"Our science is unparalleled!"

"Yes, yes, we sport a zero percent death rate. Oh, you heard that right. Yes, zero. With our advanced medicine and technology, we can cure just about every disease out there. In fact, we're the ones who found the cure for the plague that killed off billions!"

The only thing you found interesting in your one-sided 'conversations' with your nurse is that people don't die around here. Instead, 100 percent of the time, Tagnasians are transported to Everland before they pass from old age. After a while though, the information becomes repetitive and boring. It's mild suffering, unable to have some sort of banter or argument with someone, unable to have a satisfying back-and-forth discourse.

That's when you start searching for Seokjin again. (It's also a little offensive that he's been ignoring you all this time too.)

It doesn't take too long to find that man leeching off in the cafeteria, scarfing down a double-decker rocky road with a glass of milk at his side. Seokjin has always had a habit of glorifying food. Cautiously, you step forward and take the seat in front of him, gauging his countenance. Seokjin looks more surprised than annoyed, which is a good sign, really.

"Missed me already?" He smirks, mouth covered in chocolate and crumbs littering the white table.

You almost stand back up and walk out, but you tell yourself to have patience. "I'm just bored," you say nonchalantly. "Are you taking apart this kitchen by yourself?"

"More or less," Seokjin snorts. "Why? Do you wanna help?"

You grimace. "No."

"Then why are you here?" Seokjin sighs, setting down his treat and brushing off the crumbs on his hands.

"That's a stupid question," you mutter. You're not going to be caught dead admitting that you came to seek Seokjin for company; his ego is already too big for that.

"Whatever, fuzz-brain, people find me irresistible," Seokjin says. He grabs a napkin from a napkin dispenser nearby and begins to meticulously wipe the chocolate off of his face. Watching the disgusted look on your face, Seokjin laughs. "The nurse says we're going to Everland in a couple of days, though. Exciting isn't it?"

He's trying to make polite conversation and for once, you're pleased.

"I guess," you say. "Though we'll have to keep in mind that we need to leave there after a while."

"Aw, you don't want to live in Utopia with me?" Seokjin asks, a mock pout on his face. "I was actually looking forward to convincing you to stay with me."

You snort, shaking your head. "Yeah, well, good luck with that."

"Thank you," Seokjin grins before standing up and straightening out his white patient gown. "I'm kidding, by the way," he says. "I'd never stay too long in a place where I can't wear my spectacular outfits."

Of course.

"Anyway, I'm going up to my room. You can come too, if you want to continue our conversation."

For a split second, you wonder if you should follow Seokjin up to his room. You can't exactly guarantee this conversation won't end in an argument, but then again, this is also the first time Seokjin's almost been kind of... considerate of you. Besides, you should be getting close to him—he's the only person you know in this crazy society. So, before you can really stop yourself, you end up in Seokjin's room, sitting on the edge of his bed as he lounges on his plush couch (brought to him per vehement request).

It's silent for a while as the two of you collect your thoughts. Though, it doesn't take long for one of you to break the silence.

"You never did tell me what happened in Dystopia," you say, squeezing your hands together. "Unless you don't want to revisit those memories."

Seokjin raises his eyebrows—as if he's being challenged by you to dare to speak. "I didn't think you could handle the atrocities I had to face."

You make a face. "That's a very backasswards way of thinking."

"Fine then. If you want to know so bad, then fine," Seokjin huffs. He sits up a little on his couch, uncrossing his legs and then crossing them the other way. "I might've not been too cooperative when they got us. Their hockey-puck taser only hit my side, so I woke up a little earlier than you. And I guess you could say I didn't have many kind things to say to them."

You snort. "Predictable."

Seokjin ignores you, though you can tell he flinches slightly. "But they told me I was going to Dystopia—before even telling me what the hell that even means—and then they tased me again. Properly, this time. I woke up smelling some sort of batshit smell.

"Apparently those bastards threw me in a pile of mud. I had it everywhere on me. Even my face. It was a struggle trying to get it off of me, which was also unsuccessful. I didn't even look around my surroundings until way later, and that's when I noticed how desolate that place actually was.

"And the fucking rats..." Seokjin pauses for a moment, folding his hands together and looking down at them. "It was... Well, it was really hard to believe this was all real. I thought I was dreaming. But it felt too real, you know? The smell of the rotting bodies, the sight of blood on the rats' teeth... Even the grime sticking to my clothes was heavy and wet and goddammit, I'd never do it over again.

"I tried wandering around to somehow get out. I wasn't about to give up so soon, right? But it was so... fruitless. I don't know."

Your eyes widen at Seokjin's words. This is the first time you've ever seen him without his blazing trail of usual arrogant confidence. It's a weird look on him; you're not sure whether you find it amusing or worrying.

"There... Well, there was a family." Seokjin pauses, gathering his thoughts. "Their children actually found me. And I guess they felt pity. They felt the need to help me... even in their situation. I didn't know what to say." His head is downcast and he struggles to find his next words. "They offered me food. They offered me things that they barely had themselves. And they were hopeful."

"Hopeful?" you say in a voice barely above a whisper. "For what?"

"I'm not exactly sure," Seokjin answers. "I didn't know anything at all when I was there with them. But now, I think they were hopeful for their children to take the Exam. For them to succeed in life where they couldn't... And it just clicked when we were having dinner with the Governess."

You're about to put your own two cents in, but Seokjin speaks before you can open your mouth.

"It's not fair."

"Yeah, I know it isn't."

"But it's like that in the real world too, isn't it? You know, back home?"

You look at the man in astonishment. "So you do get it?"

Seokjin scoffs. "Of course I do. I'm not a blithering idiot. The rich will always get richer. They'll always produce the richest children who will inevitably have better access to education and therefore be deemed more intelligent. The poor will get poorer. They're told that they're given opportunities. But really, they're given basic human rights and passed off to the middle class where the wealthy will profit from their labor. I get it now. I fucking get it."

You have the unexplainable urge to jump up and down from your seat and yell, "I TOLD YOU SO. YOU SHOULD'VE KNOWN THAT I WAS RIGHT!" But you swallow it down your throat and clear it awkwardly. "I'm glad you understand."

Seokjin whirls around at you. "Do you think we're here because some higher existence wanted me to learn a fucking lesson?"

Whatever you expected to come out of his mouth, it definitely wasn't this. You can't help but laugh a little at his theory. "That would mean I'm being punished for your flaws."

"Oh? But maybe your flaw is hating me unconditionally."

You snort. "Fair enough. Although, I wouldn't say that would be a 'maybe.' It's a fact." Seokjin just scoffs, but it's not the kind of scoff that would make you think he's patronizing you. It's more of an amused one. A scoff of defeat, too. "I'm glad you seemed to have learned a very important life lesson from your struggles."

There's a bit of empty silence before Seokjin answers, "Me too."

And from there, things run as smoothly as things can get with Seokjin by your side. He's a wild man, always looking to talk up a storm without feeling the need to shut up once in a while. You've had to hold him back on multiple occasions to keep him from holding up busy nurses and surgeons seen walking about the hospital. Quickly, you realize that the only way to get Seokjin to calm down is to feed him. So, you spend most of your time in Tagna's grand cafeteria.

Days pass with surprising ease as you and Seokjin wait for your transport date to Everland. Your nurse is just as excited as the two of you are, always checking up on you to see if you had everything you wanted.

But after a while, the days become repetitive. How long have you been here? A week? Maybe only three days. It feels like it's been an eternity. You're not one to feel claustrophobic, but you're also not one to like staying in one place all the time. The white walls seem to close in on you, and the smell of rubbing alcohol protrudes your nose, numbing your head and making you feel dizzy at times. You begin to wonder if you'll ever make it to Everland.

"I've come to an interesting conclusion," Seokjin announces one day, entering your room and quite rudely (without invitation) plopping down on your bed. You give him a side glare. He ignores you.

"And what might that conclusion be?" you sigh.

"Have you ever taken a look at the patients around here?"

"No...?" Why would you? It's none of your damn business.

"They're either old, disabled or mentally ill," Seokjin says. "No exceptions."

You frown. "Which one of those categories would we fit in, then?"

"Okay, fine. We might be the exception. But don't you find it a little weird?"

"No?" you say. "It's a hospital. You would think old, disabled and mentally ill people would come here."

"But sometimes, you can go to hospitals for check-ups too, you know. Except around here, every patient just stays here," Seokjin says. "I don't know if you would know, but I made quite a lot of friends who graduated med school, so I'd know how this stuff works."

You roll your eyes. "Fine, if you're so smart, enlighten me."

"While you were stuffing your face with some key lime pie, I was knocking around patients' rooms," Seokjin explains, seemingly quite proud of himself for doing so. "I just wanted to get to know some people."

"You just wanted to hit up cute girls."

"No." A pause. "Okay, maybe. But that's beside the point, fuzz-brain. Anyways, the first couple of rooms were a bust. I tried talking to the patients but they started talking to themselves. It was as if they couldn't understand what was going on. I walked into a third room. The patient was old. I think they had hearing problems too. So I had to go into a fourth room, and you know what I found? A patient with an amputated arm. He was talking on and on about Everland. And sure, I wanna go there too, but after a while, it does get kinda annoying."

"What is your point?" you sigh.

"I'm getting there," Seokjin says, huffing impatiently. "I go into about twenty more rooms before a nurse stops me. And you know what I find funny? Every single damn patient. They're either old, disabled or mentally ill. And they all believe they're going to Everland. Do you see a pattern? Or is it just me?"

"Yeah, I see the pattern," you say. "But I don't get what you're trying to say."

Seokjin looks disappointed in you. "I'm just saying... Something feels off."

"I mean, it does feel a little weird around here, but that's only because this is so far from home. Tagna's a good society. An advanced one. You know our nurse? He made a huge show about how they have a zero percent death rate. They can stop death, apparently."

Seokjin raises his hand. "Hold up. Our nurse said that??? And you never bothered to tell me???"

"I thought with all the talking and poking around you do, you would've already known!" you protest.

"No death??" Seokjin whispers aggressively. "Even for a future society, it sounds pretty preposterous! How did you believe it that easily?"

"It sounds preposterous, but it doesn't mean it's not impossible!" you argue. "These people survived a global epidemic and created an advanced society from scratch. You should give them some credit."

"Something's off," Seokjin says, shaking his head. "I just know it. Why can't you feel it too?"

"Of course, I've felt it!" you say. "But what are we supposed to do about it? What are you suggesting we do then, huh?"

"I don't know!" Seokjin exclaims. "It's just... God, don't you see? It's like—I dunno—It's like Everland is a place people who don't belong go to!"

Your eyes widen. "People who don't belong?"

"The Governess said Tagna likes equality, remember?"

You do remember. "You're saying... you're saying they're just getting rid of people who don't conform—er, can't conform??"

"Exactly!" Seokjin exclaims.

"And... oh my god." Your voice drops and goosebumps appear on your skin. "The Council said at one point, everyone here will end up in Everland... Do you think...?"

"Do I think Everland is their way of death? Fuck yeah," Seokjin says. "Didn't you see how young the Council members were?"

"Everland... is death."

"We have to make that assumption. It makes sense that they would want to kill us for walking into their society unannounced. They're probably suspicious of anyone who is different."

"We have to get out of here," you say, voice rising. "Oh my god. These poor people! If Everland really is... you know, death, do you think everyone knows? Or is it safe to assume that the Council would keep that from everyone? Or, or, what if the Council thinks Everland is real and the hospital workers know what's really going on?"

"As much as I'd like to know those answers, I don't really want to wait around to find out," Seokjin says. "I wanna explore what the afterlife entails as much as the next guy—if there even is one in the first place—but I'd also very much like to go home alive."

"We need to get out of here," you say.

"We'll leave tonight," Seokjin says. "Hopefully, their security isn't so tight. I have a feeling most people here like to follow the rules."

As soon as the nurses call lights out, you and Seokjin both slip from your bed covers and creak open your doors. You meet each other's eyes then survey the dark, empty hallway of the hospital.

"Do you know the way out?" Seokjin whispers to you.

You frown. "I was kind of hoping you knew the way out."

The maze-like hospital hallways make it nearly impossible to even find the cafeteria sometimes. Even worse is the fact that it's dark, which makes it harder to navigate the place.

Seokjin curses under his breath. "Okay. New plan. We search the whole hospital and try to avoid the nurses. The exit should show up sometime."

Following his lead, you tiptoe across the hallways, back flush against the darkened walls, carefully looking through the windows of the doors in the hopes of finding a flight of stairs that would lead down to an exit. You must've checked at least twenty doors with Seokjin, but your attempts are fruitless. You're starting to wonder if you'll get caught before you even find what you're looking for.

And your worst fears begin to come true.

"Shit," you whisper. "I think I hear some nurses."

A couple of light footsteps echo across the hallway. It seems as though the nurses are yet to turn the corner, which gives you and Seokjin approximately a good thirty seconds before the two of you get in big trouble.

Without another word, Seokjin quickly flings open the closest door—which happened to be made out of a rather heavy-looking metal and had no space for a window. He pushes you inside and follows in straight after, closing the door behind him. It's dark in there but with the faintest reddish glow down a long flight of stairs.

You and Seokjin look at each other. "I think we just found the basement," you say.

"Well, that's a step backward," Seokjin sighs. "I think the nurses would've passed us by now, right? Let's try to get out again."

"Wait," you say, holding up your hand. "Do you smell that?"

"No? Wait," Seokjin says as he sniffs. "Smells like something's burning down there. Maybe it's a furnace."

"Let's check."

Seokjin visibly freezes.

You poke fun at him. "Are you afraid of the dark?"

"No." He grimaces. "Fine. Let's give it a whirl."

You don't miss the way he desperately holds onto you as the two of you descend the flight of stairs. But instead of coming down to a basement, the two of you come face to face with another door. It's got a slim slit filled in with a thick, smoked-up window, where the reddish glow is emitted. Worst of all, the door's got a keypad and it's locked.

"Damn," Seokjin says, "maybe next time." But he sounds almost glad about it.

You roll your eyes. "Lemme try."

"What the hell are you doing??" Seokjin demands. "What if you get the wrong code and it beeps like crazy?"

"Stop being so paranoid," you tell him, leaning forward and studying the keypad. "Hm..." Without hesitation, you type in the most obvious password you can think of: 0000.

The lock beeps quietly and flashes a bright red.

"See? You could never crack it, fuzz-brain. You can try for the next hundred years."

You ignore him, instead opting for the second most obvious password: 1234. Seokjin scoffs at you, but you get the satisfaction of seeing his shell-shocked face when the lock clicks and the door creaks open.

"What the hell??"

"I just thought they wouldn't have an outrageously hard password, considering that they're obsessed with simplicity and conformity," you snort. You swing the heavy door open with both hands, only to be hit with a putrid stench. It's a mixture of something rotting, something dying and something burning.

"I know this smell," Seokjin says. His tone is icy and laced with trepidation. "I've smelled it in Dystopia."

The moment he announces this, you realize this smell is quite familiar. You've gotten quite a bit of exposure to it when you were in Atna. But why is it here? Unless...

Seokjin cowers behind you as you saunter into the mysterious room. And you have to hold back a scream when you see what's before you.

Bodies.

There are burning bodies in here. Engulfed by red flames, eaten away by the heat and smoke. You resist the urge to shriek. Seokjin grasps your arm.

"O-Oh my god," you whisper, your hand flying up to cover your mouth. "Oh my god!"

"They kill them," Seokjin whispers, his voice shaking. His grip around you tightens, and if you weren't so terrified right now, you would've pushed him away.

"They burn them!" you whisper aggressively. "Now we have to get out."

Seokjin doesn't speak another word; he's already tugging you up the stairs, leaving the basement door wide open.

"Wait! The door!"

"Leave it!" he says. "We're getting the fuck out of here!"

For a split second, you realize the next unlucky person to venture down this dark staircase will have an unfortunate surprise waiting for them. But maybe they aren't unlucky. Maybe they deserve to know what's really happening. If it's a nurse—and nurses really don't understand what Everland is—they'll know the truth. Maybe they'll feel guilty. Maybe they'll faint right on the spot. Maybe they'll see this kind of monstrosity and leave Tagna for good. Or maybe... they already know they're killing people who are different—people who cannot possibly conform to their standards.

"This way!" Seokjin whispers, breaking you from your thoughts.

You follow him out, footsteps thudding a little too loudly against the white hospital floors. You can only hope that the next person who goes down there finds the basement by accident. You want them to scream. To panic. To realize how bad this place really is. To break away from their stupid Everland fantasies.

A part of you wants to have a word with the Council. Threaten them. Do something. But maybe the most you and Seokjin can do is leave that basement door open, hoping someone unsuspecting will find it and pass on the truth.

You and Seokjin don't stop running. You're unsure where the two of you are going, but your heart is racing, and you can feel it thumping in your head. It's either luck or Tagna's strict curfew that allows you and Seokjin to get away without anyone catching the two of you. Finally, you see the faintly familiar exit—the entrance of which you and Seokjin had entered the hospital a week(?) or a little over a week ago.

The dark streets are completely empty, void from any signs of life. Seokjin's still got a hold of your arm, though his grip around it has loosened a lot. You would've never thought that confident, arrogant man was such a scaredy-cat in dire situations. It's a little ironic, but you don't exactly have any major complaints, either.

The two of you begin to slow down when you reach the outskirts of Tagna. The white emptiness begins to morph into brown dirt—you've never been so happy to see soil. It's the sign of which you know that you and Seokjin are finally safe.

As soon as you catch your breath, you attempt to make a joke to stave off the tension and cope with what you've just seen. "You-You know what? Maybe equality isn't the right answer."

Seokjin sounds surprised. "Oh, really now?"

The two of you continue to walk, though your paces have slowed down significantly. "I don't know," you sigh, shaking your head. "Maybe we shouldn't try to erase our differences. Instead, we need to learn to embrace them."

Seokjin turns to you, an indiscernible look on his face. "Does that philosophy apply to us?"

You snort. "Don't make it about us, now."

"Oh, c'mon," Seokjin says, "we've been through so much terror together."

"It wasn't exactly the most enlightening experience."

"Oh?" Seokjin raises his eyebrows. "I would argue that we've learned quite a lot of important life lessons in Atna and Tagna."

You roll your eyes. "You're the one who did the learning, anyway."

Seokjin scoffs. "I'd like to disagree. Who was the one who saved us from death by the hands of Tagna, huh?"

"We were bound to find out sooner or later," you argue. "Besides, if it weren't for me and my password hacking skills, we wouldn't even have had the truth confirmed."

"What do you want, a cookie?" Seokjin says. "It was a joint effort."

Even though you do actually agree with the latter part of Seokjin's claim, you don't want him to have that satisfaction of your acquiescence.

"If I didn't save you from Atna's slums, you would've been rat food," you say.

"Maybe being rat food would've been better than hauling around an idiot like you around highly dangerous societies," Seokjin retorts. His comment makes your blood boil. Rat food??? You're worse than rat food?

"Hey, now, you fucking asshole—"

"Oh, look, it's a castle," Seokjin interrupts you.

Another long string of mean names was about to leave your mouth, but you look up to where Seokjin had stopped walking. To your surprise, there is a castle. It's grandeur, sparkling underneath an unnaturally azure blue sky—somehow bluer than that of Atna's. The towers stretch vertically upwards, casting light shadows on beautiful groves of green trees. The castle's so large you can barely see where it begins and ends. Your jaw nearly drops open at the sight. "Woah. This is the next society." Your favorite society yet. You've always wanted to visit a nice castle.

"The castle's nice, but look at that village over there," Seokjin says. And once you squint, you see hundreds and hundreds of people hunched over, working the dirt soil in hopes of having a good harvest next season. The people look exhausted, their faces sunken and their clothes tattered and muddy. It's a jarring sight—especially after leaving the prim and proper society of Tagna. The village is quite expansive, surrounding the castle that seems much farther away now. "This is like what was happening in Atna," Seokjin observes. "Look, the royal family is living in luxury and leaving their citizens in poverty."

You frown, staring up at the grand castle and then staring back down at the poor village. "But there's always a twist. Royalty living in riches, citizens living in poverty. That already happens. There's something more."

"And you wanna find out, don't you?" Seokjin sighs.

"Let's walk around," you suggest. "These people look a little too busy to care about us."

Turns out, you're right. As you and Seokjin walk through the village, no one stops you, not even bothering to glance up. The village isn't exactly foul-smelling, nor is it a place you think people want to live in; it seems as though they don't have a choice. Upon further walking, you and Seokjin stumble on a strange... ceremony? There are young girls lined up in rows and an older man in a crown inspecting them.

The girls have made a conscious effort to tame their tangled locks and have also put on their cleanest clothes—though they're still quite ridden with dirt. Confused, you turn to look at Seokjin, who shrugs. He then proceeds to ask a girl right next to him, "Hey, what's up with this?"

The girl just grins. "The Choosing Ceremony!" she exclaims, which explains something but also nothing. Choosing for what?? Seokjin's face scrunches up in the way it does when he's confused, and you're just about to ask for further details when—

"I would like to choose you, my dear."

You whirl around to come face to face with the old man in a crown. It finally hits you that he must be the king of this kingdom. You don't wanna find out what happens around here when you disrespect the king. Cautiously, you attempt an awkward curtsy, "Chosen for what, your majesty?"

"My dear!" the king laughs boisterously. "Why, to live in the castle, of course. You have become quite the fortunate young girl to live in royalty for the rest of your life under the care of the Cerulean Kingdom. It's quite the honor as only one girl is chosen per year."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Seokjin asks you, crossing his arms over his chest. "That sounds a little too good to be true."

It's quite the weird proposition, indeed. But once the king sees Seokjin standing next to you, he roars, "Do not question my generosity, peasant."

You give Seokjin a panicked look. You hope that he's intelligent enough to understand not to mess with some foreign king in a totally new society. He has no idea what they're capable of.

"Come, my dear, let us get in the carriage."

You hesitantly look back at Seokjin, who's absolutely seething. For a second, you're scared. Going with the king will mean you'll be separated from Seokjin, and that's never been a good thing in these societies. But if you resist, there's a high chance you'll be killed.

"Leave him," the king orders as he watches you consider your limited options. He grabs your arm and you instantly freeze. Something about the king instills fear in you. It's almost like you have to obey him.

As soon as the king lets go of you, a slew of knights come and begin to drag you away to the royal carriage. It's almost frustrating not being able to resist in fear.

The only comfort you have is Seokjin, who yells at the top of his lungs, "YOU IDIOT! IT'S OKAY! I'LL FIND YOU, OKAY?"

You just nod vigorously, right before the guard shuts the carriage door in your face, trapping you and the king inside, together. He stares you up and down, probably scrutinizing the whiteness of the Tagnasian patient gown you're still wearing. Then, he speaks.

"Never have I seen someone be so ungrateful of being chosen," he mutters. "I'm quite astonished, dear. I would've thought a darling like you all dressed up in white would have at least felt honored."

"I am honored," you lie through your teeth. "It was just... I'm sorry, it was heartbreaking to have to leave my boyfriend behind."

"Ah!" the king exclaims. He buys your fib in a split second. "Well, that won't be a problem, dear." You expect him to say something on the lines of, 'You'll be able to visit him any time you want!' Or at least a, 'He'll be allowed to visit you in the castle!' Instead, you get a, "You'll forget about him in three days. I have quite a handsome son. A prince."

You resist the urge to gag.

But once you step on the castle grounds, you realize how hard it's gonna be to turn back. It's incredibly lavish here—something you've never experienced in your whole life. Immediately, you're the star of the show. The nobles, dukes and royalty marvel at your white patient gown, comparing it with their older, more medieval fashion. All eyes are on you when you waltz down the steps to enter a grand party that they threw just for you. They have glasses of amber, bubbling liquid, which fizzes down your throat and keeps you calm yet playful. The alcohol's just enough to keep you relaxed and drunk enough to forget about reality, about Seokjin.

Never in your life have you felt this popular, this rich. The conversations you have with random strangers blend in your mind. The faces blur together. All you can remember is twirling around in your silky, blue dress and losing all the ribbons they'd interlaced in your hair. The next morning, you're too busy to think.

There's a closet full of dresses to try on, hundreds of rooms to explore and a whole kitchen—the size of your house—to completely devour. (Your compliments to the chef for the delectable pastries.) You're completely mesmerized by the luxury. Even spending ten, fifteen years here, you don't think you'll ever get used to the pool-sized bathtubs and hundreds of maids waiting to follow your every order.

When you thought things couldn't get any better, you discover the wine cellar. Expensive wine is something you love but can't have the luxury of having too often—because of stupid budgets. But right here, right now...

You must've taste-tested at least fifteen bottles before you finally notice the unfamiliar face just staring you down. He's handsome. Pretty eyes, a sloped nose and a fit body. You're too drunk to notice the silver circlet on his head, but you do notice the sun-shaped pendant that rests between his collarbones.

The man stares at you with a grave look on his face. "You must be the new girl."

"Ha!" you laugh. "And you are?"

He looks at you strangely. "The prince."

You don't even bother curtsying. "Looking for a drinking buddy?"

He stares. You take it as an invitation to continue the quite one-sided conversation. "You know, this place is great."

The prince mumbles his answer under his breath, which comes out incoherent and practically unintelligible. Maybe he's shy. Then you'll seek others' company.

"Where are the other girls? I've been looking for them but I think they're in hiding or something," you giggle a little. "Oh, and one of the doors is locked. I was wondering if you have the key?"

The prince just grips a wine bottle tightly by the neck, gritting his teeth and staring at the floor. An awkward silence commences.

"Wellll... Nice talk," you say. "I'll get going. I like this place, but my friend's kinda waiting for me outside, so sooner or later, I'll have to leave. Just not tomorrow, though. There's still too much to explore."

The prince again makes no reaction. You just roll your eyes and saunter out of the room with the best of your slightly drunk ability—the best-tasting wine in your hand. The rest of the day, you spend in your room, fighting off a hangover and curling up in a grand, plush bed. You allow your thoughts to run wild, and for moments, you think of Seokjin. Is it selfish of you to leave him in the village for a couple of days while you live a lavish life? Is he going to be mad when he finds out that you haven't even been trying to get back to him? But he would've done the same as you if he were in your situation, right? You can't say no to luxuries; he probably can't either. Besides, the village can't be worse than Dystopia... right?

There's a little bit of guilt that lingers in your mind before your thoughts slow down and you drift off to deep sleep.

In the afternoon (when you end up waking up), you decide to explore the castle one more time before attempting to escape. You glance at the massive door with the heavy chains locking it from the outside. If only you had a bobby pin. Maybe you could've picked the lock. But maybe you don't want to know what's inside that room. The curiosity still eats you away, though. To ward off unwanted urges (that could possibly lead to your demise), you swiftly enter a large room to explore, only to find that it's a large library. The books tower over you in the biggest bookshelves you've seen in your life. The chairs and desk decorating the room look so antique and expensive that you almost have to think twice before sitting on them.

This is every book-lover's dream. Imagine being able to read books from the future!

You immediately scour the whole place, pulling out books and scrolls and skimming through them. But after a while, you come to a disappointing conclusion. Everything in this library is about one thing: scripture. Not just any scripture, but a scripture for an unfamiliar religion. Where they worship the gods. It reminds you a little about Greek mythology.

While the words dull you, you stare at the intricate pictures, instead. Yet that becomes tedious after some time as well. There must be better rooms to explore. You clean up after yourself a little, putting back the books you'd pulled out and rolling up the scriptures again and placing them back in the correct spots. But you notice a certain book situated perfectly on a table you hadn't even sat at. It's open. And it looks as if it's done fairly recently.

You inch closer to the book, wondering what the contents would entail. But what you see on the page makes your heart drop.

There's an image, a painting on the right-hand side of the page of a bloody sacrifice. The skies opening up like a veil and two outstretched hands coming forth. Below, young girls are chained to the ground, their pale faces distraught and their insides hanging out of their bodies. Blood pooling on the gravel. A cloaked figure offering what looks like a heart to the sky deity. Your own heart seems to stop, itself.

Quickly, you read through the contents of the page, no longer just relying on the image. It's worse news. These folks annually sacrifice the heart of a young girl to the sky god in hopes of another beautiful year of cerulean skies and a good harvest. The girl is allowed to stay at the castle for three days before she'll be taken to the sky room and be sacrificed for the good of the Cerulean Kingdom.

So you're a sacrifice. Now you really got to get the hell out of here. Maybe being transported to Everland would've been better than having a cloaked man rip up your insides. Attempting to escape doesn't become a thought in the back of your head anymore. It's your number one priority, now. Because if you don't manage to escape today, you'll be gutted tomorrow.

You hide the book under your dress and make a bee-line to the confines of your room. You'll come up with something. You have over six hours, right? You'll figure something out. Since you know the castle pretty well, you think you can manage sneaking out to the gardens... But you're not really sure how well-guarded the castle is at night.

You curse in your head. You hope Seokjin's faring better than this. You open up your windows to let a cool breeze in, trying to calm yourself down, but it doesn't do much to help.

Too soon, night falls upon you. You're pretty much ready—a stealthy-looking black dress on (which you conveniently found in your expansive closet) and the important book in hand. All you have to do is turn your door handle and walk out. It should be that easy right? The aureate clock on your wall reads past midnight. Most people should be asleep.

With a deep breath, you turn the doorknob and push. The door does not budge. You push again. Same result. You begin to panic. No fucking way. They locked your door???? When?? Did they suspect you were going to escape? Was it their final precaution before the big day tomorrow?

A string of curses leaves your mouth as you pace back and forth in your room. There has to be a solution. A way to escape sacrifice. Maybe you can hide in your closet—with its size, they'll never find you. Or, or you can fake your own death! Where's your fucking knight in shining armor when you need him??

Your thoughts are interrupted when a small pebble whizzes into your room through your open window. "Shit!" you shriek, stumbling over to the open window to see who the hell would've thrown such a thing into your room. "Be carefu—oh my god, Seokjin!!" Your heart soars and the relief that washes over you is so cathartic that you feel faint. He's here. He found you! But as soon as your special moment comes, that bubble bursts.

"SHHH!" the man whispers, putting his finger to his lips. He aggressively motions you to come down.

Your hands fly up to the air. "I can't!!" you whisper. "The door's locked! And there's no rope!"

"Unlock the door???" Seokjin whisper-yells as if that were the most obvious solution in the world.

"It's fucking locked from the outside, you twit!"

"Then use your damn blankets or sheets or something??"

"But that doesn't seem very sturdy!!"

"Do you have another choice??"

"ARGH. Just—hold on!"

You mumble more curses underneath your breath as you try to figure out how in the hell to tie your sheets together strongly enough so that you don't fucking fall to your death. While you're partly glad that Seokjin's now here, he doesn't exactly understand the sheer urgency of your situation yet, and you're already half-annoyed that he thinks he knows everything.

But in the middle of your desperate rush, you hear a solid knock on your door. You freeze.

"You better not be feasting on cake right now!" Seokjin yells from below. "Why's it gone so silent?"

Your insides are twisting and coiling as you look between the open window and the locked door. Are they onto you??? Using the last of your brainpower, you leap to the window and put your fingers to your lips. "Shh!! Someone just knocked on my door!" you whisper.

Seokjin either has more than half a brain cell left in his head or he notices the urgency in your voice because he shuts up right away.

In the next minute, you frantically try to kick the tied sheets under your bed, head reeling with all kinds of the worst thoughts. When the lock clicks and the door opens, you drop the sheets and step on top of it, trying to act nonchalantly and smiling through your trembling lips.

While you expected to see a guard or a maid or maybe even the king, you don't expect to see the prince. He glances at the tied sheets under your sheet but doesn't say anything. You're practically sweating bullets. Hopefully this bitch isn't a snitch. If he runs along to his father and tattletales on your escape attempt, it's all over.

Instead, the prince steps into your room. A little timidly, even more cautiously. His eyes flit to your open window, your smiling face (though he can sense the desperation through it), a heavy book in your hand and your escape method "hidden" under your feet. To your surprise, his features soften.

"I thought... thought that you might need some more wine..." His voice is beautifully silverly, just like the circlet that sits on top of his head. You didn't notice that before. His presence is strange, but somehow even reassuring. You don't know what to make of it.

The prince sets the wine on your pearly-white dresser and glances at you. There's a peculiar look of wanting in his eyes. Longing. You can't seem to discern his countenance, and he remains solely a mystery to you.

"Thank you," you manage to breathe out, unable to look away from the enigma in front of you. The prince just gives you a nod of acknowledgment. His lips part for just a split second, almost as if he were to utter several last few words. But he doesn't. He stares at your sheets for another moment and that's when you see him smile a little. A smile! As if he were proud of you.

That's when it dawns on you that he could've been the one who had so conveniently left out the book for you to see. He wants you to escape the sacrifice.

The prince doesn't turn around once. He leaves your room and you hear the click of the lock. For a minute, you stand still, trying to make something of that moment. There was just something about that prince that you can't really pinpoint. He seems broken in some way. A kind soul who wants the best for people but watches them die before him. It was kind of him to bring you wine. Though you appreciate the gesture, you need to be clear-headed to get out of this mess.

You poke your head out of the window and give Seokjin the all-clear.

"What took you so long??" he whispers. "I thought whoever knocked on your door killed you!" It's meant to be a joke, but the fact that that could've been a possibility doesn't make it very funny.

You just roll your eyes and check the security of your ties before roping them around your bedpost and then pushing your bed (with all your might) up against the window. Right at the last second, you grab the wine the prince had brought you. And with that, you begin to slide down your sheets, careful not to let the book slip from your grasps.

Seokjin's right by your side as soon as your feet touch the ground. He's poking at the wine and book under each of your arms. "Souvenir?" he asks, pointing to the wine bottle. "Don't mind if I do."

"Wait," you say, tugging the wine away from him. "We can't right now. We need to get out. Are there guards around here?"

"Why so serious?" Seokjin snorts. "No, this place is scarcely guarded." He carefully watches your expression. "Did something happen in there?"

"Uh, more like something didn't happen. If I stayed here until morning, I could've died."

Seokjin's eyebrows raise. "What??"

"No, listen, it's crazy," you say. "But look, let's get out of here first. I don't want to be gutted."

Seokjin gives you a strange look, but he follows your lead out of the castle, hiding under the shadows and moving swiftly through the night. When the two of you finally reach the outskirts of the poor village, Seokjin takes the lead. He seems to know the dirt paths fairly well, guiding you into a small, cramped hut with the smallest bed you've ever seen in your life. The covers are hastily made, so you can only assume that Seokjin had stayed here while you were lounging about in the castle's fancy furniture. It makes you feel a little guilty again.

Seokjin settles down on the ground and pats the bed for you. "I can take the floor."

You stare at him. "No, I'll take the floor. It wouldn't be fair."

Though he pauses for a little while, he nods quietly and quickly sits down on the bed. "What exactly happened in there?" he asks.

With a sigh, you pull out the book you'd technically stolen from the castle library and open up to the page that had revealed everything to you. "You see this picture?"

Seokjin squints, letting his eyes adjust in the dark to get a closer look at the image. And when he does get a proper glimpse of it, he gasps. "What the hell is that?"

"A sacrifice," you answer bluntly. "Apparently these royal folks believe in the gods. And apparently, they trick the villagers into being excited to come here. Only to sacrifice them for the sky god three days later."

"That's insane..." Seokjin whispers. "Damn. And most of the girls were disappointed that they weren't chosen."

"That's just... so... I don't know, wrong."

"It's weird and wrong. And you literally did almost die." Seokjin frowns. He slips off his shoes and climbs into the bed before taking one of his covers and handing it to you. "You sure you'd rather take the floor?"

"I think my back needs some humbling," you say. "It's been coddled too much in the castle."

Seokjin laughs. It's loud, boisterous and for once, you're actually not annoyed by it. It's welcoming. Familiar. As the two of you lie in the dark, a peaceful silence fills the one-roomed hut. You can even feel the unspoken words in the air. Or maybe they're just your internal thoughts. I kind of missed you. Thanks for coming for me. You're not that much of an asshole as you used to be.

Either way, sleep almost comes a little too easily. After such a long, panicked day, even the floor becomes comfortable to sleep on.

The morning sneaks up on you, and by the time you wake up, Seokjin's already made his bed (though not very well) and he's forlornly staring off into the distance in front of the hut's only window. Rubbing your eyes, you let out a sarcastic, "What's so interesting outside?"

Seokjin nearly jumps a foot in the air. "Nothing," he answers after he regains his composure. "I was just looking for something interesting."

You laugh, getting up from your situation on the floor. Your back mildly aches, but for Seokjin's sake, you don't bother to mention it. The man turns around and sighs. "We should leave."

"Yeah, before they hunt me down," you say, folding up the blanket you'd slept in and picking up the wine bottle.

Seokjin picks up the book. "We should leave this here."

You raise your eyebrows. "Leave it?"

"The villagers deserve to know what's really going on," Seokjin says. "I know the perfect spot to lay it out."

Half an hour later, after Seokjin had displayed the book in front of a worn-down podium where he swears all villagers pass by on their way to the field, you and your co-worker are walking out of the Cerulean Kingdom and towards the unknown. You tap your fingers on the wine bottle, staring at how the sun reflects off the dark glass. At this point, you have no idea where you and Seokjin are heading.

"We should've asked the Governess if she knew how many societies there are exactly," Seokjin sighs. "What if there are over a hundred?"

"And which society's gonna end up killing us?"

Seokjin jerks his head toward you, an indiscernible look on his face. "Don't give me that," he scoffs.

You struggle to make sense of yourself. "No, but it's just that these places are really dangerous. I mean, technically, in every society we've visited, they've kind of tried to kill us."

"Then do you want to go home?" Seokjin asks. He's careful when he asks this. Cautious.

"Of course I do. But I'm not sure if we have that choice."

Seokjin groans. "God, what if we're stuck in the future forever?"

"And we spend the rest of our lives just wandering around and collecting dirt on different societies?" You laugh at how absurd the idea is. "Maybe we should start writing a book."

Seokjin laughs along with you. "Chapter one, Atna, the obsession with education. Chapter two, Tagna. The obsession with equality. Chapter three, the Cerulean Kingdom, featuring their obsession with sacrificing young girls?" he says the last one as a question, waiting for you to correct him.

You actually smile, appreciating the small gesture. The Seokjin you used to know would never let anyone get the upper hand. "I actually think the Cerulean Kingdom was obsessed with... I don't know how to explain it. Material wealth? Opulence? But, like, excessively—to the point that splendor and richness and blue skies were more important than their citizens' lives and well-being."

"Really? And how did you take it?" Seokjin asks. He looks genuinely curious, so you grant him your answer.

"I might've kind of lost myself to the luxuries... and uh, the alcohol," you say, holding up the wine bottle as if to show Seokjin the proof. "It's... It was pretty stupid of me, but I couldn't help it. Money, wealth, it's just so desirable, you know? It could've killed me."

"But you fought through it," Seokjin says.

You shake your head, looking down at your feet in embarrassment. "Actually, I had some help."

"Help??" Seokjin says. "You mean your handsome knight in shining armor?" he snorts, puffing out his chest in self-admiration.

You roll your eyes. "No, the prince."

Seokjin whirls around at you, eyes wide. "You got the prince to help you???"

"Well, he didn't exactly help help me. But he indirectly helped me figure out about the sacrifice," you say. "I think he's the one who made it so that I discovered that book talking about the sacrifice, and he's the one who knocked on my door when I was about to escape. He saw what I was doing with my bedsheets but he didn't say anything. He kind of actually... smiled? And then he gave me some wine." Seokjin gives you a confused face. "I know. It was weird."

"I can't believe you got the prince to be your secret admirer. Was he at least hot?"

"Yeah, hotter than you," you snort. "And what can I say? I'm pretty hot too."

Seokjin just laughs and you're about to turn to him in surprise, confused as to where his sarcastic, argumentative personality had gone. But instead, he stops walking, prompting you to halt as well. "I think we're in the next place."

You frown at the vast land in front of you. "It looks... um, very..."

"Sand color," Seokjin finishes for you.

"No, that's tan."

"Looks slightly beige to me."

You huff. "Either way, this place is sort of... ugly. Very plain," you take note as you survey this foreign society.

Seokjin snorts. "For a person who can't dress very well, that's saying a lot," he laughs.

Aaaand he's back. Normally, you would've been offended, but it's also pretty true that when it comes to clothes, you have no idea what you're doing. So you decide to humor him, laughing along with him, and Seokjin raises his eyebrows. "Well, I'm just wondering what this society is obsessed with."

"It seems normal," Seokjin says. "Plain, albeit normal."

There are bustling crowds of people, their heads kept down and their clothes the closest to normalcy since you've even been trapped in the future. Everything seems... normal. There isn't much to describe, nor is there anything that appeals to the eye. The buildings that tower over everyone are squarish and dark—almost like it is back home. A single thought flits by: if all else goes wrong, you and Seokjin can stay here forever.

"What do you think of this place?" you whisper to Seokjin who's spending his time to survey his surroundings.

"I'm not sure," he replies. "I think... we'll have to ask around."

"This place doesn't seem too dangerous, right?" you say. "No one with a machete's gonna come to decapitate us?"

Seokjin snorts. "We'll see." But something about the way he says it sounds as if he's not expecting anything dangerous lurking in the corners of this society. The two of you can finally lower your guards.

"Excuse me? Hi, hello, we're a little lost," Seokjin calls, singling out a woman who keeps staring at her watch and refusing to make eye contact with your co-worker. "What is this place called? If you don't mind."

The woman finally looks up at Seokjin but stares at him strangely. "Tan."

Your brows furrow and you look to Seokjin to see how he's faring. He seems to be just as confused as you are. "Come again?" he asks politely. "I must've misheard you."

"This place," the woman sighs, careful to enunciate her words properly, "is called Tan."

You can't hold in the snort that comes out. "I told you the color was tan," you say, poking at Seokjin who's watching the woman fall back into the crowd, unable to be distinguished again.

"It's a weird name..." Seokjin says before he turns to you. "Are you sure you want to walk around here?"

"Well, we kind of need to figure out what Tan is all about, you know?" you giggle. "If we want to write that book."

Seokjin just smiles at you, though he disapprovingly shakes his head. "All right, then. We'll walk around a bit. But the moment we notice something's off, we're leaving. I don't think strangers are welcomed here."

You laugh out loud. "And since when were strangers welcomed anywhere else?"

"Very true," Seokjin says.

Walking side by side, you and Seokjin begin to explore the society of Tan—though there wasn't exactly much to explore. Most of the buildings looked identical to each other and all of the citizens were uninterested in a nice little chit-chat. In fact, everyone here is fucking boring, you conclude. Though their attire is normal and what you would consider as business casual, none of them seem to have an affinity for bright colors.

"Everyone here has quite a bland sense of style," Seokjin voices, a little too blatantly for your taste.

You whirl your head around at him, eyes wide. "You didn't have to say that so loudly!"

"Relax." He grins. "None of them even care."

He's right, though. What Seokjin said hadn't offended anyone. Instead, his blatant comment had been ignored. No one even bothered to look up.

"Maybe this is a world where they're obsessed with time management," you joke. "No time to dwindle or dawdle or even have a sense of humor, I think."

Seokjin looks horrified. "Well, that's not a fun way to live."

"Tell me about it."

Just as you're about to tell Seokjin that you two might be better off leaving this society (where it seems like nothing ever happens), you spot a single speck of color in a sea of dark indigos, blacks and grays. It's a bright red band that a rather tall man is wearing around his arm. But he's just like the others, head tucked down and eyes following his own shoes—nothing else.

Before you can make any more judgments, however, Seokjin's already calling over the man. "Hey!" he says, arms wide and welcoming. "Nice band!"

"Love the color!" you chime in, offering your nicest smile.

The tall man stops in his steps and he stares right at the two of you. Instead of taking what both of you had said as a compliment, the man looks a little ashamed. "Are you... mocking me?" Your eyes widen in shock at his words, but before either you or Seokjin can defend yourselves, the man mumbles under his breath, "But you two probably don't have the creative capacity to mock me, don't you?"

Now you're offended.

"Excuse me?" you say, crossing your arms over your chest. "I actually won my fifth-grade art contest so I don't know what you're talking about."

The tall man whips his head around at you. Almost habitually, his hand comes up to tug at his red armband as he stares curiously into your eyes. "You're... not from around here."

"We're definitely not," you laugh.

"Is that band you're wearing a bad thing?" Seokjin asks and your eyes enlarge at his invasive question. From your peripheral vision, you catch another person a bit further away wearing their red band, but they stand out from the crowd, eyes shimmering and glazed over as they seem lost in thought. That's when you also notice that the others tend to avoid these individuals with red bands. Even where you're standing right now, the bustling crowd has created a distinct path around the three of you.

"Ah... the band. It indicates that we have a disease," the man says. Upon closer look, you realize that the man is quite good-looking—he's even taller than Seokjin and has pretty dimples that appear when he presses his lips to a thin line. "Creative Imaginative Disorder. CID," he clarifies. "It's contagious. So you should probably stay away."

"Hold on a minute," you say, shaking your head in disbelief. "Is being... creative a disease around here???"

"So this is a world without creativity," Seokjin gapes. "It's so barren."

"You must be from far far away," the man says in awe. "For you, this," he gestures outwards to his society, "isn't normal."

"Yeah," Seokjin says. "Where we're from, creativity is actually allowed."

"It's funny. Because even in our world, creativity is pretty limited too," you say, "but at least we don't exactly call creativity a disease."

If Tan's obsession is just solely being against creativity, maybe it's not as dangerous as the other societies you and Seokjin have been to. At least no one seems to be out to kill you. The most you might get from Tan is a red armband and some discrimination from the non-creative folks. Unless there's something more to this society that you don't quite know yet.

"I was like them once," the man confesses. He gestures to the rather stiffly walking people. They nearly look like robots, with their eyes trained straight ahead of them and head seemingly empty but legs moving on their own. "I helped cure CID patients. Until I became one myself."

Your eyebrows raise. Cure creativity???

"You should go," the man says hastily. "You shouldn't stick around here and risk losing your creativity. Cure or no cure, in an environment like this, people like us just don't belong."

Now it makes too much sense to leave. How can you possibly live without creativity? Without imagination? Half of your insults toward Seokjin are thanks to your artistic thinking! Your grip around the wine bottle tightens, and you nudge Seokjin with your elbow. Hopefully, he gets the message that you want to leave.

He nods slightly before turning to the man. "Look, maybe they think creativity's a disease. Maybe you stand out like a sore thumb because of it. But what are they gonna do? Change the way you think?" Seokjin scoffs. "They can't. You should just embrace what you have... And I dunno, help some other poor folks salvage their creativity before it gets lost."

And for the first time, you find Seokjin admirable. Never in a million years would you have pinned him the type to be so adamant about creativity and the value of free-thinking. You always assumed he was a prissy, art-is-no-good, rational person. But there are apparently a lot of facets of Seokjin that you hadn't known before being stuck in the future with him.

The man lets out a small smile at Seokjin's words and gives the two of you a nod of acknowledgment. "Thank you," he says. "I'll keep that in mind." He slowly walks away from the two of you, though looking back once or twice just out of curiosity.

You and Seokjin stay standing, you wondering if Seokjin wants to leave as you do. But you're usually the bit more adventurous one, so maybe he wants to get moving too.

"Do you wanna leave?" Seokjin's the first to break the short silence. "We can explore a little more around here if you want. Unless you're afraid of losing your creativity or something."

Of course, Seokjin can't go a second without trying to challenge you. This time though, you won't take it. "I actually kind of want to leave," you say. "I'm not sure if there's even much to see."

"Scared to lose your creativity?" He snorts.

"Honestly? Yeah," you answer. "Let's go."

The two of you begin to walk away from Tan. And as short and innocuous your interaction with that society had been, for the most part, it's still a little shocking. You can't help but wonder how the hell a whole society can function without anyone attempting to think outside the box. It's depressing how they condemn a perfectly fine way of thinking. And it leaves several questions. Do they have music? Art? How do people live without any form of entertainment?

"Hey, can I ask you something?"

Seokjin's voice breaks you from your thoughts.

"Yeah?"

"You said earlier that our society doesn't allow us as much creativity as we'd like. You know, that it's limited."

"Oh, right." You turn to Seokjin and see that he looks a little confused. "I can elaborate," you offer and he nods happily in response. "The way I see it, we spend more than half of our life in school. And in school, we learn a lot of subjects, right? I dunno, I was always sort of bad at math and science when I was younger, so a lot of people just assumed I was dumb—even though I was constantly winning art contests and poetry slams. I thought being good at something made me smart, but I guess not. It's just that even back home, creativity and rationality aren't measured the same way. But whatever." You sigh, grimacing at grade school memories. "I'm not salty."

"Hm..." Seokjin hums. "You do have a point. And I... might've been one of those people who made fun of others for being bad at STEM."

You shoot him a look of disbelief. "I think creativity's harder to learn."

"Really? I always thought it's harder for us to learn concepts, you know, like math and science. I don't think we're biologically cut out to be very systematic. As in, I don't know, creativity comes to us more naturally."

In a way, he makes a good point. It's an interesting, theoretical discourse to have. "But here's the thing," you say. "From a young age, I think we're told to 'be logical' and use our heads in serious situations. If a child is bad at STEM, they're stupid. If they're bad at the arts, they're given a free pass from insults because they apparently have better things to accomplish. Our school systems are built to honor rationality and conforming. Creativity, though, is literally the backbone of our society. I mean, where do we spend our leisure time? Movies, books, music, television—all creativity. Do you get my point?"

Seokjin seems to be mulling over your ideas, an unreadable expression on his face. "Goddamn," he finally says. There's a dramatic pause. "I... I actually think... You know what? You're... you're—"

"Ooh, go ahead and say it." You grin.

Seokjin sighs. "You're right."

Your grin somehow widens as you sing-song, "Can't believe you finally admitted it!"

"Don't get too full of yourself," Seokjin grumps. "We should still be cautious, anyways. We were lucky this time with Tan. I'm not sure about the next society."

This time, it's your turn to acknowledge that Seokjin's right.

You have no idea how long you’ve been walking along the dirt soil with Seokjin before the next mysterious society shows up. It almost seems like it will never end. The wine bottle around your hand is sweaty and your fingers begin to prune in response.

“I’ll hold that if you want,” Seokjin says. “Think about the money we could make if we sold that back home. Wine from the future.”

You snort, handing him the wine bottle. “It should be at least a hundred thousand bucks,” you say. “For all of our struggles, you know?”

Seokjin nods his head. “We can brand it as the wine the royals would drink. And it wouldn’t even be a lie.”

Soon, the brown dirt soil morphs into a verdant green color of grass and a nicely paved, smooth sidewalk. With each step you and Seokjin take, the two of you become immersed in a completely new world. For the fifth time.

“This is the next one, huh?” Seokjin comments, looking around. “It looks like our suburbs back home.”

He’s right. The houses are quaint and fairly spaced apart, but there are plenty of cars crossing the roads and even more people walking about, hand in hand. Not just any people but young couples. From just one turn of your head, you spot at least three to four couples making out in public. You grimace at the gross display of PDA. When you were their age, you probably didn’t have your first kiss yet, too busy sticking your nose in a variety of books.

“Is it just me, or is this scene making you uncomfortable?” you say in a low voice, gesturing toward the lip-locked couples.

“This is probably where they obsess over raging teenage hormones,” Seokjin says.

You laugh but both you and he realize it might be a bit deeper than that. It always has.

“Let’s walk around,” you suggest. It’s not an outrageous suggestion, considering that these suburbs look quite friendly, otherwise harmless. And if, by chance, this place did turn out to be dangerous, you and Seokjin could pull one of your miracle solutions again and escape. You’ve done it before. You’re pretty sure you can do it again.

There are small cafes, restaurants, bookstores and smaller buildings lined up on the street, with people walking in and out of the doors. By people, you mean couples. Rarely do you seem to see a solitary figure wandering about the town. Hm.

Finally, you and Seokjin come across a building at the end of the widest street. It’s white in color and grand in size, but there’s nothing to indicate what the building is for. You cock your head in curiosity.

“Let’s go inside,” you say.

Seokjin looks at you warily. “I dunno… What if they try to turn us into one of those teenage hormonal messes back there?” he says, pointing behind him where a handful of couples are making out by a small water fountain. You’re not sure if he’s joking or if he’s genuinely worried.

“Oh, come on. I don’t think it’ll kill us or anything.”

Seokjin frowns. “That’s what we thought of Tagna and the Cerulean Kingdom, you know.”

He does kind of have a point. But you don’t really care. Your hand juts out, reaching for the handle of the large white door to the building. However, a sudden “Ahem” makes you freeze. That had definitely not been Seokjin.

“Hello. Good day.”

You and your co-worker whirl around to see a middle-aged man standing promptly behind the two of you. He’s got spectacles on his nose, which he pushes up slightly to get a better look out of them. Then, almost by reflex, he pulls out a rather thick book from inside his navy-colored coat.

“Ahem.” He clears his throat again. “Surname?” he then inquires in a surprisingly high-pitched, mosquito-like voice.

It’s almost by reflex.

“L/N.”

“Kim.”

The man frowns, holding up his hand. “Couples must have the same last name. Are you registered?”

Seokjin gives you a nervous look. “Registered for what?”

The man sighs. He then flips open his book, mumbling “Kim, Kim, Kim,” to himself before he looks up, shaking his head. “You’re not on here.”

“Oh, actually, we’re not from here,” you say. “We wouldn’t be registered.” Whatever you’re not registered for, you have no idea.

“Nonsense,” the man scoffs, pulling down his spectacles to glare at you and Seokjin. Despite his demeaning stance, you and Seokjin find the situation more strange than threatening. “You are together, no?” Before either of you can respond, he says, “Well, no matter. You must get married now. We’ll find you a household too. It’s a pity the two of you missed Truve Day. You would’ve gotten cake at your marriage contract ceremony.”

“Wait—” you say.

“We’re,” Seokjin laughs, “oh, we’re not together.”

“We’re not even in love,” you say, laughing along with Seokjin at the preposterous idea. You get married to him? Never in a million years. “We’re honestly just visiting,” you snort. “There’s really no need to pull out a marriage contract.”

The man frowns at you, his brows knitting together. “Clearly, you two have not taken any of our essential classes. Hmph.” He stares you down. “Snorting is quite an unladylike behavior.”

You scoff.

“And so is scoffing.”

Immediately, Seokjin turns to you, his eyes wide. “Uh, you sure you want to stay?”

You cross your arms over your chest, sizing up the man in the navy coat before grinning. “Oh, no. We’re staying. Until I figure out what the hell is going on.”

The man gasps. “Cursing is unladylike!!”

Seokjin looks at you, clearly unsure and uncomfortable. He’s fidgeting, maybe uncertain whether he should step in and stand up for you or let you defend yourself. He makes the right choice of staying silent, though.

You look the man right in the eye and smile as angelically as you can. “Well, maybe you should’ve considered the fact that I don’t wanna be fucking ladylike.”

The man looks faint. And you have never felt more satisfaction in your life.

Just as much as you expected, there are zero consequences to your ‘unladylike cursing.’ Well, except for two things. One, he confiscated your precious bottle of wine (much to your dismay) because it “wasn’t good for an expecting couple,” whatever the fuck that means. And two, you had to follow through by signing a marriage certificate with Seokjin. It’s only a minor problem—both you and Seokjin have wordlessly agreed that the certificate only exists in this society called Truve, where apparently, the divorce rate is a whopping zero percent.

The man you had intentionally cussed out was quite cold to you afterward, giving you a rude crash course of your ‘duties’ as a wife. And even hours after you saw him, you still remember the last thing he said to you two.

“Men go to work, women clean the house. You two look capable of doing that. May your new love for each other bring you prosperity.” A disconcerting pause. “You’ll find what you need in the bedroom drawer for tonight.”

Of course, by singling out the bedroom drawer, the man had unknowingly sparked an intense curiosity in both you and Seokjin. So much so that the bedroom drawer is the first place the two of you check in the new home that the two of you can now call yours. What follows is something neither of you had expected.

“Toys???” you gasp, nearly falling back into Seokjin’s chest and darting away from the drawer you’d just opened.

“Children’s toys?” Seokjin asks, unable to see from behind you.

“No, sex toys!” you shriek, moving over to show Seokjin a colorful assortment of high-quality sex toys. The ones that probably cost a little too much for what they do.

“No way!” Seokjin rummages around in the rather spacious drawer. “There’s lube in here too! Ooh. It’s flavored.”

“Dude???”

“They have condoms! They’re flavored too!! And lingerie!” He looks at you. “Wanna test to see if that’s flavored?”

“No thanks, jerkface.” You push him aside to get a better look at the items that had been so conveniently placed by the bed. “Oh, look. They have pamphlets. You pick one up, flipping through the glossy pages and frowning all the while.

“What does it say?”

You make a face. “They’ve made a little too detailed guide of sex for dummies… Maybe Truve is obsessed with love. At least, the idea of it.”

“You sure they’re not obsessed with sex?” Seokjin snorts, taking another look inside the drawer and scoffing. “I mean, the evidence is pretty clear.”

“I don’t know… If they were obsessed with sex, we would’ve seen a couple of orgies out there. But everyone outside was fully clothed,” you say. “And look. These pamphlets have it all wrong. They barely say anything about the female orgasm. It’s just pages and pages of blowjob manuals.”

“I didn’t know you were a sex connoisseur,” Seokjin says.

“Oh, shut up. This place is backasswards.”

“That, I can agree with. Seems like the patriarchy wanted to make itself more apparent around here. It’s even worse than back home.”

You turn to him in shock. “Never would’ve pinned you to be the type to be aware of that.”

He just shrugs, evading a straight answer. Then, he changes the topic. “It’s crazy that I’m expected to go to work tomorrow. I don’t even know what kind of job they’re going to give me!”

“I’m sure you can survive a day. Or maybe two. Or three?”

Seokjin raises his eyebrows. “Don’t tell me you’re thinking of settling down here.”

“If I get to stay home all day and watch T.V. every day… I dunno. Sounds pretty tempting,” you grin. “Also, I’ve always wanted to live in the suburbs.”

“They expect you to cook and clean, you know.”

“Shit.” You might’ve forgotten about that bit. You became a career woman for a reason—you’re absolute shit in the kitchen and you’re definitely not the neatest person in the world. And back home, you and Seokjin had the same job. In fact, in terms of seniority, you were the better-ranked employee. “At least this place isn’t dangerous, right?” One look at Seokjin’s face and you know he doesn’t want to settle down here. Something about this place makes him uncomfortable. You let out a heavy sigh. “Fine. We’ll leave after one day.”

“You were seriously considering staying here?” Seokjin looks at you in bewilderment. “That man treated you so badly.”

“Oh, I’m pretty used to that,” you snort. “Even back home.” You were a part of my struggles back home, you want to add. But you don’t. And you’re not even that sure why.

Seokjin just slams the open drawer shut in response, lightly sitting on the single—but generously sized bed—in the vast room. “Did you see how young the couples outside were? Do you think they were all married?”

“Yes and yes,” you say. “Hopefully, they don’t force it… like they did to us.”

“Why? You don’t like your new husband?” Seokjin grins.

You look down at him, a disgusted look on your face. (Though you’re not sure if you’re actually disgusted with this man anymore.) “I think I could’ve done better,” you tease.

“Oh, please. You get to see this face every day now that we’re ‘together,’ ” Seokjin jokes, framing his face and batting his lashes. You roll your eyes, but can’t help but let a smile slip onto your lips.

“Whatever. Are you any good in the kitchen? I’m hungry. And it’s probably been a while since you had a proper dinner, huh?”

“Am I good in the kitchen?” Seokjin dramatically rolls up his sleeves. “I’m fucking amazing.”

He then proceeds to march into the kitchen and takes a look in the fridge, which is stocked full of fresh fruits and veggies. You check the cabinets to see a healthy amount of sugars and spices, along with plentiful silverware. “Can you really whip something up from scratch?”

Seokjin decides to take the challenge.

He ends up making fucking ratatouille. It almost brings you back to your childhood, when you’d first watched that movie and had maybe possibly softened up to rats. But after that trip to Atna, not so much.

And the ratatouille is delicious. You’ve never had that dish before, but it’s exactly what you expected it would taste like and more. Seokjin practically glows when you compliment his cooking skills, and he’s so glad that he can’t even come up with any throwaway insults or snide comments.

The two of you eat until you’re full and unable to eat another bite. The leftovers go in the fridge and you and Seokjin take care of the mess in the kitchen together. By the time you two are done, it’s pitch black outside and sleep is calling.

After having to fend for himself in an impoverished environment for two days, Seokjin’s more than elated to be going to bed (a really nice bed too) on a full stomach. Except, of course, he was going to have to share his sleeping space.

“I mean, at least the bed is huge,” you say. “There’s a lot of room.”

“They expect us to have sex in it. Of course it’s huge.”

You roll your eyes at his bluntness. “Whatever. Let’s get to it then.”

Seokjin jerks his head around at you so fast that he winces. “Let’s get to having sex???”

You give him an unamused look. “No, you dim-witted twit. Sleep.”

Seokjin laughs nervously. “...Right…”

It’s actually a little funny how embarrassed he seems to be right now. You can’t help but poke a little fun. “Did I get you excited there?”

Seokjin scoffs. “You definitely did not. You would make my dick shrink in size.”

“And I’m as dry as the Sahara Desert.”

There aren’t exactly enough pillows to make a convenient pillow barrier between the two of you, but the bed is so large that a barrier isn’t needed, anyway. You and Seokjin slip into the covers quietly. Maybe because you’ve suddenly become hyperaware of what the fuck is actually happening. You’re getting in the same bed as your co-worker. Not only that, but a co-worker you would’ve paid to sack in the stomach a week or two ago. But now, you don’t hate him that much. Do you even hate him at all?

God, that makes it even more awkward.

You lie as still as possible, for some reason finding the noise of shifting blankets being the most embarrassing thing ever. Seokjin lies still as well, and it doesn’t really help dissolve the awkwardness of the situation. At this rate, you might never even fall asleep.

Finally, you can’t fucking take this anymore.

“Hey… you awake?” you whisper.

Seokjin grunts a reply, “Yeah.”

“I was just teasing you.”

“Teasing me?”

You stare at the ceiling, cheeks heating up in embarrassment. Are you really going to explain yourself? “I didn’t actually think you wanted to… I dunno, hook up with me. I was just teasing.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” An awkward pause. “If it makes you feel better, you’re objectively hot, and a lot of our co-workers think the same.”

You never expected Seokjin to laugh. “Actually, you’re not so bad yourself.” You didn’t expect him to say that either.

You turn around. And your heart drops as you meet his dark eyes. You realize he had turned around to face you too.

“What are you turning around for?” you scoff quietly, feeling the need—for some reason—to whisper.

“You turned around too,” Seokjin points out.

“Ugh.” You roll your eyes. But damn. Against the white sheets and illuminated by the moonlight flooding in through the window, Seokjin does look pretty fucking great. For a second, you can feel an uncomfortable twisting in your stomach. Your heart clenches. And the butterflies are released from their cage, fluttering in your gut. You want them to die, but they’re soaring.

Oh, fuck.

Seokjin raises his eyebrows. He knows you’re looking at him, completely shamelessly. But he looks right back. There’s an inexplicable silence, bottled-up feelings caged inside.

Suddenly, you’re leaning forward. You can’t even stop yourself. Maybe it was purely in the moment. Maybe your brain has been fried. Or maybe… maybe you’ve really wanted to do this and you’ve been holding back for who knows how long.

Your lips lock with Seokjin’s, and through your half-lidded eyes, you see his own eyes widen. But he never pulls away. Instead, he pulls closer. You want to scream into the kiss, but even if you did, no one could’ve heard because he envelops his lips around yours, deepening it with just a simple tilt of his head.

He’s reciprocating. He’s… reciprocating!

It’s almost too much to comprehend. His hands snake into your hair, fisting it and bringing your body closer to his. He doesn’t give you a second to breathe, and when you finally have to pull away for breath, he stares at you through half-lidded eyes—before he’s leaning in again. It’s more than enough for you to know that this isn’t a mistake.

He kisses you again, harder, as if to prove his feelings to you. And now, all you can do is reciprocate.

You wake to the sound of some imbecile quite loudly knocking on your door way too early in the morning. Groaning, you blink your eyes open, only to find Seokjin already staring at you. Then, you realize you’re nestled in his arms. The two of you stare at each other before you jump apart.

“G-Good morning!” Seokjin manages to stutter. He runs a hand through his messy hair, looking around frantically to find the doorway out of the bedroom.

“Y-Yeah,” you manage to say. “Good morning.”

“I’ll, um, check to see who’s at the door,” he says quickly before darting out. You hear him open the door and hear a man in a gruff voice ask:

“Why aren’t you ready for work, new guy? They need you in ten minutes.” There’s a pause. “Oh. Oh. I see. Nice bed hair.” You can practically see the suggestive wink on that faceless man’s face. You roll your eyes. “Well, meet me outside in five.” He whistles before Seokjin shuts the door.

He rushes back into the bedroom, panting in panic. “Help me get ready in five!”

“On it!”

While Seokjin’s frantically trying to tame his hair while brushing his teeth, you pull out clothes from the closet. You’re not as fashionable as he is, but he’s going to have to deal with his rather plain mix and match for today. After Seokjin comes back from the bathroom, he takes one look at your outfit for him and smiles. Without another word, he gets dressed, you turning around to give him some privacy.

“I’m done, you know,” he says.

You turn around again to find him staring at you, unabashedly. “What? Do I have bed hair too?”

“No.” He just smiles, shaking his head. “But last night… Pretty great, right?” Before you can get a word in, he dashes out of the bedroom, swinging the front door open and leaving. “See you at five!”

You scoff at the way he just leaves. “Really fucking smooth of you!” you call. But you smile to yourself. So there had been something there. You can’t wait to see where it goes from here, especially when things had felt so right last night.

And after the morning chaos, you take your leisure to freshen up, taking a while to choose an outfit from the closet that even Seokjin would be proud of. Just when you’re putting the finishing touches on your makeup, there’s another knock on your door.

You open it, expecting almost anything, but definitely not a group of women—er, more like girls. They all look fairly young. At least seven years younger than you.

“I heard you moved in yesterday!” one of them chirps. “We just wanted to welcome you into the neighborhood!”

Another pulls out a plate of hot fudge brownies. Having skipped breakfast, the sight and smell of the treats make you salivate a little. “And here’s our welcome gift.”

You accept it with both hands. Then, remembering your manners you say, “Would you like to come in?”

“Oh, yes please!”

And that is how you get five strangers in your new home. These five strangers also won’t shut the fuck up about their husbands. You find out quickly that all they want to do is talk about sex—but they cover it over with the notion that it’s normal. In Truve, you learn, it’s the norm for couples to marry young and have children young, which explains the pregnancies of three of the five women. You find that the group is full of eighteen and nineteen-year-olds.

“They shipped in new pamphlets yesterday,” one of them giggles. “It had a detailed manual of blowjobs. Needless to say, we tried it out last night.”

You cringe. This is the kind of stuff you tell your closest of your closest friends—not random newcomers on the block. The other women, have a different reaction from you, however. They gasp and cheer.

“Did he like it?”

“Maybe I should try it with him.”

“It sounds like so much fun!”

Normally, in conversations, you can’t shut up. But today, you’re unusually uncomfortable enough to keep quiet. Until they start asking you personal questions.

“Oh, Y/N, was it? How was last night with your husband? It was special, right? They usually stock up on nice lingerie—”

“It was fucking fantastic,” you cut her off. “Amazing. So great. I chained him up and dicked him down. I used to call him an ‘asshole’ all the time. Never meant it so literally until yesterday. Oh yeah, and we might do it again today.”

One of the girls’ mouths drops open. The others are stunned into silence.

You take your cue to stand up, clearing up the empty plates littered with brownie crumbs. “Well! It was so nice meeting all of you,” you smile as nicely as you can. Now please fucking leave the premises. Except you don’t say that. And you don’t have to. The women are already scrambling up from their seats, all giving you strange looks before mumbling their goodbyes and practically sprinting out of your home.

You grin. What a triumph. You’d been stuck in their awful company for what? Nearly four hours? Listening to their sex stories about their husbands. It was torture. But you’re proud of yourself for getting yourself out of that mess.

You have no idea Seokjin had faced a very similar situation at his workplace.

“No, no, you don’t understand. Missionary isn’t even an option for us. She keeps whining about me not kissing her enough. Like, you gotta be stupid not to know that there’s a fucking reason that I don’t kiss you. Also the same reason we do doggy.”

“That’s rough, man. You deserved to be matched with someone more attractive.”

“You guys wouldn’t believe it, but last week, I washed the car and all I got was a lousy handjob in return.”

“I honestly can believe it, dude. My wife baked a pretty shitty cake on my birthday and then expected me to ‘fuck her romantically.’ What the fuck does that even mean???”

“They do one favor for us and act like they deserve the world.”

Seokjin has never felt more uncomfortable in his life. He fidgets, completely silenced by possibly the worst men he’s ever met in his whole life. In normal circumstances, he would’ve picked a damn fight. But he’s shocked. So shocked that he literally can’t lace together his words for the time being.

“Hey, new guy. Didn’t you take her virginity last night?”

Seokjin has never felt a bigger urge to sock a person in the stomach. How dare they even ask. His blood boils but he manages to keep his calm.

“Oh no. She was so experienced,” he practically groans from the nonexistent memories. “She had me all pinned on the bed. Called me a ‘good boy’ and I almost nutted right there.” He smiles. “You guys should try taking it in the asshole some time. It feels—”

The men have already left the area before he can continue. Seokjin grins.

“You’ll never fucking believe the shit I had to deal with today,” you say the moment you hear Seokjin want in from the front door.

He circles around to find you sitting on the couch, arms crossed over your chest. “Oh yeah?” Seokjin laughs. “Try me. I could’ve had it worse.”

What follows is an exchange of stories and the two of you laughing your asses off at how similar your experiences had lined up.

“The toxic masculinity was borderlining psychopathic behaviors!” Seokjin exclaims. “They just wouldn’t shut up.”

“Ugh, and the internalized misogyny,” you sigh. “I seriously could not sit through that conversation. It was like all their thoughts were consumed with their husband.”

“Well, now I’m glad we’re leaving this place today.”

You laugh. “Me too. At least the bed was nice, though.”

“Was it the bed that was nice or was it really me?” Seokjin asks.

“Hm.” You pause to think. “The bed.” But with the teasing lilt to your voice, Seokjin knows that you’re joking. “I’m pretty pissed they took our wine, though. That was supposed to give us a healthy profit.”

“Right?” Seokjin says. “But hey, we got a good marriage certificate out of it.” He points at the framed thing on the wall. “Want that as a souvenir?”

You snort. “No thanks. I have something else in mind.”

Seokjin follows you into the bedroom where you open up the drawer and rummage around to pull up the neatly folded lingerie. Finding a small bag in the closet, you shove the lingerie in there, turning to Seokjin to gauge his reaction.

He laughs.

“What? Good lingerie’s expensive back home.”

“In that case…” Seokjin reaches forward and grabs the sex toys of all things before setting them in the now bulging bag.

You are quite impressed. “Good thinking. We can make a couple of hundred bucks from that!”

Seokjin laughs. “Oh? Who said anything about selling these goodies?”

Your eyes go wide and you have to turn away, feeling your cheats heating up unnaturally.

But with your souvenirs, you and Seokjin walk straight out of Truve, not regretting leaving so soon at all. As the suburbs disappear behind you and the black sidewalk morphs into brown dirt, you begin to overthink.

So much has happened in Truve that it’s going to take some time to unpack. You and Seokjin hadn’t exactly had the time to discuss your relationship with each other. Are you now co-workers with make-out benefits? What is going on? Are you even attracted to him?

One glance at the man, and you realize the answer to that question is a resounding yes. But is he attracted to you? You’re not exactly a mind reader, so you wouldn’t know. But he did lean in for that second kiss. And he was the one who deepened it in the first place.

Either way, you vow that you’re not going to be the one who brings it up. Unfortunately for you, Seokjin’s thinking the same thing.

The new society looks a lot like a ripoff of Tan. All you can see are bustling people, keeping their heads down in the most low-profile manner as they move without barely being conscious of their surroundings. The only real difference you can spot is that there aren’t any folks with red armbands this time. This place obsesses over another thing.

Definitely not lights. It’s a little too dark here for your liking. Why are the street lights so scarce? The buildings look the same as well; much more than Tan. In fact, you predict that if you walk around here for a bit too long, you can see yourself get lost forever. Every single street, every corner looks identical to the other.

Seokjin moves closer to you, bumping your shoulders together. “No threats, so far?” he asks. You like that he’s checking. If you were stuck in this place alone, you would’ve been terrified. But Seokjin’s here with you, making subtle indications that he cares.

“I don’t think so,” you say. “Let’s try to ask around what this place is about.”

“Excuse me?”

“Pardon me!”

“Hello?”

“Hey! Wait, please?”

No matter how much you and Seokjin call for help, no one bothers to stop. No one even bothers to look up, so encompassed in their own little worlds.

“I don’t understand this place,” you confess. “I don't get why everyone is ignoring us. Nobody cares about anybody else.”

“I’m confused too,” Seokjin says. “There are no street names. And look, even the buildings. They all look the same. We could seriously get lost around here.”

“I think they definitely have a thing against names,” you snort, rolling your eyes.

“Chapter six, the society without a name,” Seokjin laughs. “How mysterious.”

Even though he tries to make a joke to lighten the atmosphere, you can’t help but feel a little grim in such a dark, isolated place. There are so many people, but why do you feel practically alone? Why do you feel so lost? So unknown? It’s unsettling.

You look up at Seokjin’s face to find his brows furrowed, looking around his surroundings. He looks just as perplexed as you are. Maybe you should leave this eerie place early. But knowing nothing about it? The mystery has to be cracked—it always has.

A warm hand suddenly encompasses your wrist. Your head jerks up to stare at Seokjin, who offers you a warm smile. And upon your slight nod of acknowledgment, his hand slips down to hold yours, your fingers fitting perfectly together. His hands warm yours and you can’t help but stand closer to him.

The two of you walk past hundreds of apartment buildings that all have the same exact sidewalk leading up to the same exact door and the same exact shrubs decorating the entrance. The only thing that differentiates these buildings are the barely legibly written numbers in the color of black on the sides. But they blend in with the dark color of the buildings, making it impossible to read without squinting your eyes for another impossibly long amount of time. And those numbers mean nothing to you. Why name things in numbers when numbers don’t tell you a single thing? 42069 can easily be a pancake house while 69420 could be a work office. It’s ineffective. Almost as if this place values anonymity.

Finally, you and Seokjin duck into an eerily empty aisle, catching your breaths from your brisk walk. You realize after all this time, your hands are still intertwined together. Seokjin notices too, and he gives your hand a small squeeze.

“Thanks,” you blurt out.

Seokjin turns, his brows raised but lips in a nice smile. “For…?”

“I dunno. For a lot.” You shrug, trying to play off as nonchalant, but there are a lot of times you wouldn’t have survived in the future without Seokjin. “And for this.” You hold up your intertwined hands. “I needed it, Seokjin.”

His heart feels warm. And he realizes it must be because this is the first time that you have ever uttered his name. It sounds good in your voice. He feels a little honored that you no longer feel the need to call him an ‘asshole’ or ‘jerkface.’ And this feeling is especially nice because you’re the only one who knows who he is in this place where everyone seems lost. Maybe this means your relationship has evolved over the course of your journey.

“I want to thank you too,” Seokjin says. He looks down at his feet, almost embarrassed that he’s admitting this out loud. “And… sort of maybe apologize. I wasn’t the nicest co-worker.”

You giggle at his bashful state. “You know what? I’m sorry too. We both couldn’t leave each other alone.”

“And now, we’re technically married. Ironic isn’t it?” Seokjin laughs.

You gasp. “Goddammit, we totally forgot to bring the marriage certificate! It would’ve been such a funny souvenir.”

“Yeah, if we ever get back, that is,” Seokjin snorts. “As far as we know, we’re a married couple in the future. Or, maybe our marriage only exists in Truve.”

You shrug. “We never got a proper wedding. And we didn’t even get a cake!” you huff. “That was not a real marriage.”

Seokjin just laughs, nudging into you almost instinctively—out of fondness. Since when did he feel the need to get so close to you? Since when did he even acquire feelings for you? He has absolutely no idea. But he can’t exactly get himself out of this now, can he? He’s stuck with you. And for the first time, he’s not pissed off about it. No, he’s happy. There isn’t any other person he would’ve like to journey through future dystopian societies together.

“If there are more societies out there,” you say, nearly reading his mind, “I think we’ll do well to come across them. And maybe when we find one that we like… We can stay.”

“Yeah,” Seokjin agrees. “I learned so much in such little time too.”

The experience had taught both of you life lessons that you would’ve either never learned or taken another decade to realize. And the idea of settling down with Seokjin seems so right, now. In the beginning, you would’ve much rather just wandered off on your own. But you’re a team now. More than co-workers. Friends. And then maybe something more. You wouldn’t mind being stuck here forever if he were always by your side.

“So, are we going to do anything about these folks around here?” you say. “Something to maybe get them to open their eyes?”

It’s become a sort of a habit between the two of you to leave a very lasting impression on each of the societies you visit.

“Hm.” Seokjin stares straight into your eyes before a bright grin spreads on his face. “You like art right?”

It takes about three hours to find what Seokjin is looking for. You think if he at least told you what he was trying to find, you could’ve gotten it over with two hours ago. But nevertheless, you appreciate the semi-romantic(?) gesture of trying to surprise you. He takes you—hand-in-hand—into some kind of home improvement store and stops right in front of the spray paint aisle.

You look at him. “Is this the surprise?”

“Well, it wasn’t exactly supposed to be a surprise,” Seokjin says, scratching his head. “But I wasn’t really sure if this kind of place would have spray paint. I didn’t want to tell you, get your hopes up and then realize that didn’t exist around here.”

You just laugh. “That’s very sweet of you to think that through.”

“I know,” he says, puffing out his chest. “I’m amazing.”

“Just as much as I am.”

He grins at your answer. “Now, what do you think about…” he leans into you to whisper, “shoplifting and vandalizing?”

Turns out, you used to think breaking the law as a lawyer was the worst possible thing you could do. But… maybe in dire circumstances, it’s a different story.

You hold a can of spray paint in your hand, standing before a tall building and grinning at Seokjin. “Think we can finish five of these by morning?”

The streets are barren, everyone tucked away in their apartment buildings, probably sleeping or doing whatever more introverted activities you can think of. No one had even cared to stop you and Seokjin from leaving the home improvement store with bags and bags of spray paint. It must be around 12 to 2 a.m., though there are no clocks or watchtowers to make sure.

“I know we can finish by morning,” Seokjin says. “But you’ll have to do most of it. Arts and crafts were never really my thing.”

You roll your eyes but smile. “Then we better get working then.”

It’s been years since you’ve painted and another several years since you’ve held a can of spray paint. But art has always been your second nature (your first being arguing). It’s easy to get back on track and you let yourself paint on the buildings, letting your arms move whichever way the vision in your mind wants it to go. Sometimes, you glance over at Seokjin, who’s more or less struggling, paint stains on his clothes and face, looking frustrated at his lack of artistic intelligence. It’s a little endearing the way he turns pouty like that. You’ll just walk over to him, position his arms, covering his hand with yours, and then help him draw something he’s proud of.

For once, conversation is pretty scarce between the two of you. But it’s not because there’s nothing to say. No, there’s really plenty to say. The two of you communicate almost wordlessly.

Can you pass me another can? you’d say with your eyes.

But what color do you want? he’d reply.

I dunno. Surprise me.

He’d tossed you a pitch-black one, and you’d roll your eyes. Not that one, you giant twit. I can’t paint black over black.

Oh, I know. A grin. I was just teasing you.

He’d then toss you a can that’d produce a pretty shade of lilac, and you’d taken it gratefully. Thanks.

No problem.

Conversation continues like that for hours on end. You’re typically not one to spend the night up, but you can’t exactly remember the last time you were so captivated by a project—so much so that you felt like you had to sacrifice precious sleep time for it.

By the time the sun peeks out over the horizon, you and Seokjin are finished, albeit tired and paint-covered. The two of you admire your work, staring up at the five buildings with matching grins on your faces.

You’d painted over those silly numbers, instead, writing five familiar names in their place. One building is named Atna—half of it spray-painted with green grass and blue, crystal buildings, the other half of it brown and gray. Seokjin had attempted to draw the Governess in the middle, but she ended up turning out as more of a messy blob. The building next to it is called Tagna. The bottom of it is fiery red—you’d drawn the flames licking up and engulfing piles of bodies, but above the basement is a surgical society, all prim and proper. And above it all, is Everland. Then, you’d drawn and named the Cerulean Kingdom, the whole building drenched in the prettiest blue shade that you could find. Seokjin drew the village, the castle and the clouds. You drew the skies opening up to reveal a deity’s outstretched hands. Tan’s building was plain—but Seokjin had insisted on painting a red horizontal stripe running across the sides. A perfect splash of color and a dash of creativity. The last building was Truve, which was a little hard to draw. (Seokjin had suggested making a visual representation of what was in that bedroom drawer. You had whacked him for even suggesting that in the first place.) But finally, the two of you had opted for drawing hundreds of pastel-colored hearts across the building. Seokjin might’ve tried to recreate the marriage certificate, but it ended up looking like a used tissue more than anything else. You like his efforts, though.

And there you have it. A physical representation of all the places you’ve visited with Seokjin over the past couple of weeks. Some more traumatic than others but all as equally enlightening. Now, this nameless society has five named buildings.

“That should get them started with naming stuff,” Seokjin laughs. “Atna, Tagna, the Cerulean Kingdom, Tan, Truve—they really don’t have an excuse now.”

You snort, throwing down your spray paint cans to slip your hand into Seokjin’s. He takes it gladly, looking at your graffiti masterpieces in awe. “We should probably get out of here,” you whisper. “Before they start waking up.”

Hand in hand, the two of you begin to walk out of the nameless place, leaving behind five buildings, five names and five memories. Where people had lost their identities and became mindless robots, you and Seokjin had learned to appreciate each other. People need each other.

“A world with too much anonymity is a dangerous one,” Seokjin says, breaking the silence as the two of you begin to trek on the familiar dirt again. “No one cares.”

“Yeah,” you agree. “We shoplifted and they didn't notice. Wait. Do you think they’ll even notice the buildings?”

“They better,” Seokjin snorts. “After all of our efforts?”

“Right... But god, I still can’t believe this is the future,” you sigh. “Pick your poison, huh?”

Seokjin nods. “But I’m sure others will come and rebel rightfully and in larger numbers.”

“They better.”

“But out of all the societies we’d been to, which one would you want to live in the most?” Seokjin asks. He’s genuinely curious, waiting for your answer as he swings your intertwined hands back and forth, the bag of souvenirs from Truve clinging tightly in his other hand.

“You can’t ask me that!” you scoff. “Three of them are deadly and the other three are so irritating I’d die of stress!”

“But if you had to choose!”

“Well, I don’t trust myself to score very high on a standardized test,” you hum thoughtfully. “Which means I’d be tossed into Dystopia, and I’ll probably die there. The rats will dance around my grave.”

“True.”

You shoot Seokjin an ungrateful look.

“But Tagna is just as scary. If I didn’t know the truth, then… maybe? But I do know the truth and it makes the whole place a thousand times worse than it already was. Also, they enforce the strictest rules and you know I hate following stupid guidelines.”

“Also true.”

You laugh. “I suppose the Cerulean Kingdom affects a smaller portion of the general population. But even then, if I don’t get chosen to live in the castle and get my guts sacrificed, I get to live in a village and farm all day…”

“But better a farmer than a sacrifice.”

“Of course! Not something I'd enjoy, though. Tan seems okay, but I’m not sure how long I can survive without my usual creative outlets. And I won’t last in Truve. That place makes me mad.”

“You really can’t choose?”

“Well, I think maybe if I was with you, I’d find the last society we visited pretty tolerable,” you say, rubbing your chin. “Even if things don’t officially have names, we can name them ourselves, you know?”

Seokjin smiles. “I agree with you too. If all else fails, maybe we can go back there and… settle down?”

It’s a nervous question but a possibility that you don’t mind at all. “Of course,” you say, mirroring his emotions. “And just to make it clear… You’re saying that you’re completely okay with the fact that we might never make it home, if you could be with me.”

“Don’t put it that way,” Seokjin scoffs. “That makes me sound like I’m… I’m whipped.”

“Aren’t you?” You squeeze your hands together. “Because I might be.”

You and Seokjin grin at each other, lost in each other’s eyes and drunk in each other’s emotions. You don’t need wine to feel this. So distracted by each other’s presence, neither of you realize that the familiar skyscrapers are coming back into view, the vast dirt land growing farther and farther away from you.

Neither of you realizes what had exactly happened until you halt in your tracks. “Wait. That’s our building.”

Sure enough, standing straight in front of you is the familiar law firm. Seokjin’s jaw drops. “No way…” He looks down at his other hand to find it void of the bag and the souvenirs. "NO WAY!" he shouts. "There goes our proof!"

“How the fuck did neither of us notice??” You throw your hands in the air.

“I was too busy looking at you!” Seokjin answers.

“Well, I was too busy looking at you!” you counter.

The two of you erupt in simultaneous laughter, hands still tightly interwoven.

“I can’t believe that happened,” you say. “All of that. Were we both dreaming?”

Seokjin snorts. “Maybe. No one would believe us, though. Did any time pass while we were gone?”

You fish out your phone, face aghast to finally see it working in the first place. “No. It’s the same day as we left.”

“Even stranger,” Seokjin comments. A sweet ding! indicates that Seokjin had gotten a message on his phone, which he pulls out. “Shit, the subs! They just sent their sub orders!”

“All of this happened during one lunch break??” you snort. “They’re gonna have a hard time believing their eyes when we walk back in without wanting to rip each other's throats.”

Seokjin grins. “It’s gonna be hilarious.”

“But do you really think the world’s gonna practically end like that?” you say a little more cautiously. “And then we’re gonna split off into six weird societies?”

“Who knows?” Seokjin shrugs. “Maybe we got transported to an alternate universe. Maybe not. Guess no one bothered to owe us an explanation.”

You shrug. “A lot of things happen without an explanation, anyway.”

“What? Like somehow I’m attracted to you?” Seokjin snorts. “When I’m a whole ten out of ten??"

You roll your eyes but can’t help but smile. You can’t help but get lost in conversation with Seokjin as the two of you try to make your way to Taylor’s Sub Kitchen without getting distracted this time. But it’s hard not to get distracted by Seokjin’s presence. Not when he’s using every second to tease you and impress you with his otherworldly confidence.

Your judgment has been right since the very beginning. Seokjin is a pompous asshole. But he knows it and you tolerate it. Because underneath that hard-headed façade is a man who cares and a man who worries. Maybe you won’t settle down with him in those six strange societies—not when the one you’re living in right now will suffice just fine.

“Hey, wanna make a coffee stop?” Seokjin asks, shifting the bags of subs on his arms. (He hadn’t let you carry a single one.)

“Now???” you ask. Seokjin’s not usually one to be so spontaneous.

“No, Y/N,” he laughs. “After work.”

God, your name sounds so good coming from him.

“Oh?” You smile. “So it’s a date.”

Seokjin smiles right back at you. “Of course.”

—masterpost

—masterlist

[ramonahblog]

Fuck it, I need to rant about Superman and Lois 2x01 ending or the episode in general. I’ll find out. Also spoilers for season 1 obviously. 

Spoilers under the cut.  As you could probably tell by my first sentence, this is going to be negative towards the episode. 

Great way to make sure your family can’t say no about the Irons’ moving in, Lois. What, a phone call was too difficult to make? Really just put them on the spot there with the Irons’ RIGHT THERE IN EAR SHOT! WTF?  This could easily be certain past interactions in my personal life invading this here but that felt too close to manipulative to me for it to be comfortable.  

Yeah, sure, your family is going to be honest and say they aren’t comfortable with the Irons’ moving in when the Irons’ are Right. There. I hope the next episode they do the whole-time skip thing again and the Irons are moved into their own house and that plot is dropped. The moving-in plot dropped. It’s a small town, Lois. You can get to know Natalie without deciding to move her and John and only telling the other three people who live in the house at the last minute while the Irons’ are right there. Phone call too difficult? Fuck sake, your husband has superhearing, ask out loud in a car or something and tell him to text you.   

Also, the entire promotion with Lois&Clark of them having marital issues and a good chunk of the episode + the show deciding it was happening for three months and all we get is one scene on the porch? Lame effort. Fucking lame effort. 

I mean, cut out the Jon/Candace scenes (and subsequent Jon ones dealing with that aftermath) if it was an issue of timing. Since, honestly, that seemed more like a way to show that there was something deeper going on with Lois. Or one of the Clark/Cushing scenes since they basically were both the same anyway, just with a different Cushing. 

I want to rant about Anderson and the eye-rolling predictably of it but, atm, it’s not readable beyond “eye-rolling predictably”. Predictable storylines can be fun but this just made me roll my eyes. Of course this is how they went with. Again, lame effort. Fucking lame effort.  

Regards to Sarah-Jordan plot:

I’ve seen people speculate that Sarah cheated on Jordan at the camp which I hope not. I can understand why they think that but geez, really hope not. 

Also, I’ve seen people (some of the same as above) speculate that maybe Sarah is questioning her sexuality which is normal. I do not trust shows to do this. The other side of people speculating is that it’s always Sarah comes out as gay. Fully revealing myself as a salty bisexual here: I do not trust shows to let a character explore their sexuality. It either ends up as they were gay all along (show conveniently ignores the canon romantic/sexual interests character had with the opposite sex) or “I don’t like labels” or “bad guy all along”. 

“I’m bisexual” is easier to say than “I don’t like labels” fuck sake. It’s shorter.  Just say it.  

And you know what’s sad? “Crazy Ex-girlfriend” is always the one that is popped up as a recommendation whenever I do end up going a rant about it wherever I’m online. Show ran from 2015-2019. That is the only show that comes up without any warning labels for it. Besides it’s genre. 

And considering how the show seems to be dealing with Jordan’s anxiety disorder: I do not trust this show to go down the route of either “gay all along” or “I don’t like labels” if the reason for Sarah’s attitude don’t think that’s the right word is she’s questioning her sexuality. 

If anything, I hope it’s just at camp, she’s had the time to fully realise no one told her about why Jordan was kidnapped and that the Kents are full of secrets. And at the camp, she was getting resentful about that and, being a teenager, doesn’t know what to do with it. 

Also regarding Jordan:

It’s been three months since S1 Finale happened in-show and Jordan is fine? The dude was taken over by an alien consciousness who used his body to try and kill his brother? And nearly succeeded? Like no one is fine after that. And it’s only been three months. 

Again, Jordan: Have they just decided to drop the fact that the pilot introduces us to Jordan by outright saying he has anxiety disorder? Are they just going continue ignoring that? Especially since the pilot established that he was taking anxiety meds. I mean plotline right there. Have the boys go to Metropolis for some reason and Jordan has an anxiety attack and it turns out it was being in a small-town that was (mostly) helping him manage his anxiety better and not the powers?  

Have him grow into powers enough that he needs stronger dose of his medication and then get into a vicious cycle of wondering if he ends up like his father that medication won’t effects him but he needs the medication cause he’s tried the non-medication therapy route and it wasn’t effective? Then getting more anxious at the thought but can’t say anything because it spills the secret and just a big, giant vicious anxiety circle. And now he’s literally pacing a hole through the floor which causes a panic attack causes more ground breaking etc etc.  

[just-my-sickly-pride]

hey could i request a 80s roger x young reader? where he's insecure about his abilities in bed because he's getting old and you're so young and he's scared that you would eventually leave him? it could be smut or just general fluff. thank you!

i’m v v sleepy atm so sorry if this turned out wonky!it’s about 1.6k and I’d give it a T rating, mostly fluff/angst and then a scootch of spice at the end!

     You’d started to notice it a while ago, maybe three weeks. Your partner Roger had been acting… different. He was still just as loving and romantic and affectionate as he always was, as he had been since you’d started dating him two years ago. But ever since - well. Ever since his birthday about three weeks ago, something had changed.

    It wasn’t as if the two of you had slept together all the time. A couple of times a week, nothing extreme by any means. You’d had a very fun night for Roger’s birthday, and then, now, nothing. You’d made out a couple times, and Roger had gotten you off with his hands, with his mouth, quite a few times since his birthday, to be fair, which was all fantastic, but that had been it. When you’d wanted to return the favour, he’d brushed you off, and you hadn’t actually had sex since his birthday. He was too tired, or too busy, or he didn’t feel like it.

    Which was fine, if it were true. You weren’t about to kick up a fuss if it were true.

    But it didn’t exactly fit his track record. Roger loved sex, and he’d never been afraid to show you just how much he loved it, especially how much he loved it with you.

    So, yes, you were worried, more worried that you wanted to admit. You were twenty-four now, and Roger was fourteen years your senior. The age gap had never really been an issue between the two of you - it was mainly that other people had a problem with it, which hadn’t ever bothered either of you - but maybe things were changing. Maybe Roger, since turning thirty-eight, realised he wanted someone older, more mature, who had their life together. Someone who already had an established career, instead of still finding their feet a couple years out of university.

    Or - and you didn’t even want to consider this - maybe Roger wanted someone… younger.

    It repulsed you to your core to think that. You knew that that would never be the case, and it was just your deepest, darkest insecurities coming to the surface, but it was hard to ignore that evil little voice in the back of your mind.

    So maybe it was time to shut it up.

    “Can we talk?” you said.

    Roger looked up from the book he was reading. He looked so comfy and cozy beside you on the couch, a glass of wine in hand and his book in the other. A small crease grew between his brows when he read, and you liked to smooth it out with your thumb from time to time.

    “Of course, love,” he said. “What’s the matter?”

    He said it casually, but the way he immediately closed the book and set it aside, and then took a healthy swig of wine, led you to believe he knew exactly what was coming.

    It didn’t make it any easier to articulate, though.

    You fidgeted with your fingers, forcing yourself to look him in the eye and not avoid his gaze. “It’s about… something between us that’s happened. Or not happened.”

    Roger sighed. “Right.”

    “I don’t want you to feel pressured in any way,” you added. “It’s absolutely fine, it is, but I just… I’m struggling to understand. Why we, y’know, haven’t…” You forced yourself to get the words out as straightforward as you could. “We haven’t had sex since your birthday three weeks ago, babe. I just want to know what’s going on with you. I think part of me is - is scared, and expecting the worst, and I just need you to be open with me, please.”

    Roger sighed again, and rubbed his eyes. “Ah,” he said. “Yes.”

    Your stomach lurched. Wait. This was it, wasn’t it? This was the lead-in to the break up. He was about to break up with you. Oh no, no, no, he’d found someone else, hadn’t he? She was probably eighteen and skinny and so blonde and pretty with big Bambi eyes, and he was about to dump you for her.

    “This is sort of… embarrassing,” Roger said, not meeting your gaze.

    Embarrassing? Embarrassing? “What?” you said.

    “So, um.” Roger squared his shoulders and finally met your eyes, and then his face dropped, and he took your hands. “Oh, love, what’s wrong? You’re white as a sheet.”

    “Are you breaking up with me?” you blurted.

    “What?” Roger said. “No, love, not at all.”

    “You’re not cheating on me?”

    “No!” Roger said. He groaned, and dragged a hand down his face. “Wonderful. Wonderful, I’ve made you feel awful.”

    “Rog, just tell me, please,” you said.

    “I’m old,” Roger said, and the sentence fell out of his mouth like gravel. “I’m old, and you’re so young, and I’m just worried that I… can’t - keep up anymore. That I can’t make you feel good like you want me to. Like you think I can, or should be able to. And after that bloody fantastic night, my birthday - celebration, I was sore the next day, and I was wracking my brains trying to figure out what we’d done that was so extreme that I pulled a muscle, and then I realised that I’m just old.”

    You stared at him, letting your brain process what he’d just said. Of all the things you expected him to say, being self-conscious about his age was not one of them.

    Roger took his hand back from yours, and he picked at the fluff on his tracksuit pants. “That’s why we haven’t slept together since then,” he said, his voice tight. “Because I’m concerned that the next time we do, I’m going to pull another muscle or you’re going to want to do something I can’t do, and then you’ll realise you should be dating someone your own age. And if you don’t realise it now, you’ll realise it soon enough. Maybe in a couple years, but eventually.”

    “No,” you said. You didn’t have to think about it - you just said it, and you meant it, with all your heart. You reached forward and took hold of his hands again. “Rog. Babe. Look at me.”

    He did.

    “I don’t care,” you said. “I really, really don’t care. Because I love you. I couldn’t care less that you’re getting older. I love it.”

    “You don’t have to say that,” Roger said.

    “I don’t,” you agreed. “And you know me - I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it. So I mean it. I love you, I love every part of you, I love everything about you. Except when you go through my secret stash of chocolate; that annoys me. And how you complain at the TV when I’m trying to watch.”

    Roger huffed a laugh.

    You shuffled in closer to him, cupping his cheek, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. “I don’t want you to ever think you have to hold back or hide from me,” you said. “Even when you turn fifty, I still very much intend to be there for hot birthday sex, whatever that entails. Even if tomorrow you turned around and said to me that you only wanted to have sex once a month from now on, or once every three months, whatever, I wouldn’t care.”

    “You say that,” Roger said, “but you don’t know. In five years’ time, I’ll be forty-three, and you’ll only be-”

    “I’ll be almost thirty,” you said with a wry smile. “So you’ll get to hear me complaining about how I’m getting old.”

    He didn’t laugh, like you expected him to - he just managed a smile.

    You combed your hands through his hair. “I still want you,” you said. “In every way you’ll have me.”

    Roger’s eyes searched yours, and you could see him thinking, see him battling with himself.

    You drew him in for a kiss. He went to pull away after a second, expecting it only to be brief, but you didn’t let him go. You rose onto your knees and straddled him, and his hands instinctively slid up your thighs.

    God, that felt good. You moaned into his mouth, deepening the kiss, rolling your hips against his, and you felt his muscles slowly start to relax underneath you.

    You ducked your head to kiss and nip at his throat, and he let out a low moan that you felt through his skin. “Let’s go to bed,” you murmured in between kisses. You kissed under his jaw, and then pulled back, meeting his eyes. “Let me make you feel good,” you said. “Help you forget everything that’s whizzing around in that brain of yours.”

    You rocked against him, and you were glad to discover that he was definitely interested. At least, his body was. You were more concerned about whether his mind would pose as a roadblock.

    Roger hesitated.

    “I love you,” you said.

    “I love you too,” he said.

    You smiled. “I love you, and I want you. It’s been three weeks, and I am so desperate by this point that, honestly, I’d be fine if you just lay there and let me do all the work.”

    Roger snorted. “As if.”

    You chuckled. “Okay, yeah, you caught me out on that one. But I am desperate.” You kissed him again, one hand finding the hem of his shirt and slipping underneath it to run over his stomach, his chest, the side of his ribs.

    He moaned, his hands finding your hips and tugging you closer. When you broke apart, he said breathlessly, “It has been a while.”

    You hummed in agreement, pecking him on the lips.

    He took a breath. “Okay, fine, you’ve convinced me,” he said, and kissed you fiercely.

    You smiled against his lips. Maybe his fears weren’t completely assuaged, but you’d figure out how to fight them together. As much as it would take. Forever.

[revisionaryhistory]

Three Days ~ 5

Catch up here AO3

~*~Sebastian~*~

I make playlists for everything. I've talked several times about using music to get me into a character. I use music to regulate my mood too. I have ones for working out anger, songs to make me cry, things to meditate too, songs to help me sleep and give me good dreams, and good start to a morning songs. I'd be lying if I didn't admit that there's a sex playlist. There's really two. One is labeled romance though. Maybe it should be called “foreplay”. It's the glass of wine and quiet conversation playlist. The one called sex could also be rightfully called “fucking”. Every last one of those songs are for slamming balls deep into someone. That Puscifer song is on that playlist. I have a deserted island playlist too. That's where the question came from. I think you can learn a lot about people from what they choose to fill their brains with and why.

It would be an easy thing to reduce Emma's choices down to songs that make her feel. What I got from her list is she likes words. She gave me a line from every song she picked. She didn't even have to stop to think. The words just rolled off her tongue like they were waiting to be said. Again, it would be reductive to think that's all there is, but I bet words are what hook her. She listens.  Most of my choices were tied to an activity. Air guitar, dancing, working out, sex. I watch. I notice how things happen. Process is more important to me. That's how I get into a character, the feel of things. Mannerisms. How they walk. How they talk. How they do things. Current example ~ I remember Emma asked if she could help me find the chocolate chips, but not the exact words. I can bring up the exact feel of her hand on my arm when she said it. When I put my hand on her back leaving her house I noticed she leaned back into the contact. Had she jumped, tensed, or leaned forward I would have know I was violating her personal space. But she didn't. She's given me her hand and didn't move away when I put my leg against hers while we ate. All of this is good because I just can't seem to not be touching her. I don't mean in a sexual way. I mean attraction. I like you and I want to feel your warmth. Accepting my hand on her back has absolutely nothing to do with accepting sex. Neither does kissing. Or touching. Hell, being naked in bed doesn't even equal consent for sex.

Wow, I've drifted way off topic. Maybe not. Back to the music thing. Her liking words and me liking activity. Neither is the superior way, just differences. I'm curious about books and movies, but another night. I have no doubts there will be other nights.

As planned, deserted island playlist propelled us into more music. Eventually we're rattling off songs and giving them thumbs up or thumbs down. It was really good. We laughed and told stories, sharing memories. She hit upon one of those songs that you think no one else ever heard of, but was really pretty popular. Usually it’s a breakup song that you get so lost in the rest of the world didn’t exist. This was one of those. I immediately threw up the thumbs down, then up, then down again.

She grimaced, “Break up song.”

She’d shared hers. I didn’t mind sharing mine, but this was my least favorite. “Sort of. It was later. I had a hard time getting over her. We’d been together awhile. Things were good until they weren’t. First she started saying she didn’t know who she was apart from me. Then it was she didn’t know what she wanted. Then it was she knew and it wasn’t me. I’d been doing the things she wanted, making changes, and it turned out she was making them up. I didn’t handle myself so well. I was hurt because I felt like she’d used my better qualities against me. She’d manipulated me into making changes, doing things, that meant nothing. It was like she was playing with me and she knew me well enough to know better. I really internalize that shit. In the end I’m the one who looked like the asshole. I wasn’t perfect, but I kept trying.” After dropping the lyric that had hooked me, I stopped for a second and focused on our hands. God, I was young back then. Both of us and we’d fought with secrets to hurt each other most. I just had more to work with. Emma’s nail tickling my palm brought my attention back to her and I smiled. “I was pretty pitiful for awhile. I couldn’t get past it, past her. That song got me in touch with how angry I was. Not just at her, but myself for getting so stuck in being victim and feeling guilty for mean things I’d said. So, I raged for a while. Took it out on my liver and my lungs . . . mostly. Then I was better.” The smirk on her face let me know she understood my particular healing methods. I wasn’t very original. Sometimes you have to get high, drunk, and fuck someone out of your system.

Emma excused herself to the bathroom. I leaned back and finished off my beer. I looked out at the dark water letting everything sink in. Not thinking, just letting the good time feel good. Even telling the ex story felt good. Well, her reaction to me getting a little lost in. Another round of beers showed up a little before Emma. As she sat down she knocked hers over.

She jumped out of the way as it poured onto the deck beside her, “Fuck!”

I grabbed the bottle before it could empty and Emma stemmed the flow with extra napkins. “Easy clean up with the deck.”

She laughed, but her cheeks were red. Our server showed up to take away the napkins, wipe up the remnants, and bring Emma another beer.  She shook her head, “I have an unfortunate habit of knocking over drinks. Even sober.”

“It’s good to have a hobby.” We laughed again and got back to talking.

I was so wrapped up in conversation I didn't notice a group of three guys approach our table. I jumped a little when one of them spoke. They had beers in hand and introduced themselves after one apologized for startling me. I wanted to tell them it was really uncool to interrupt my date. They seemed like the kind of guys who would understand. I stood up because I don't like talking up to people towering over me. Gives me a little more control over the situation too. Most people will read the social cue of me sitting down again as ending the conversation. They were nice enough and the short interaction ended with a picture so they could post “beers with The Winter Soldier” on Instagram.

Emma was smiling when I sat down, “Happen a lot?”

“Um, depends where I am. Sometimes one turns into many. Fingers crossed.” I patted my chest without pockets. “I don't have a pen.”

She chuckled, “I've always thought autographs were the excuse to approach someone when all someone really wants is a minute of your time. Or your phone number.”

There's my opening. “Can I have your phone?”

She gave me a strange look, but still pulled her phone out of her purse and unlocked it before handing it over. Luckily she's got an iPhone and I know how to navigate those. I get that people like the customization you can do on an Android, but for barely tech literate people like me I find comfort in the limitations of ways I can fuck up my iPhone. Also makes it easier when I'm trying to sneak my number in someone's phone. I'm not very sneaky. I put my number in her contacts, saved, and handed her phone back. “Now you don't have to ask.”

She was doing something and a second later my text notification went off. “You don't either.

I put in her name and was reaching for her hand when our server walked up, “I'm sorry, Mr. Stan, but we'll be closing soon.”  She laid the black folio containing our bill on the table.

What the hell? It couldn't be after eight o'clock. I glanced down at my phone. It's 2:45.  “Oh shit!” I showed the time to Emma who looked as shocked as I did. I looked up to our server. “I'm sorry. Shit. We've fucked you out of half a dozen table turnovers. I'll take care of you.”

“Don't worry about it. I'm glad you had a good night.”

I quickly pulled out my credit card and tucked it in the plastic sleeve. She walked off and I turned to Emma, “I'll be right back. Gonna get some cash for her tip.” Since Emma had worked in a restaurant I knew she'd understand. Even if they cashed her out they might withhold some of a tip to cover the card fees or make her wait for the full amount. I had some cash, but not enough to cover shorting her all the turnover while I sat my ass here talking. By the time I got back from the ATM she was back with the receipt. I asked her to wait while I quickly scribbled my name. I tucked the cash in the folio and handed it back to her. “Have a good night.” She thanked me and was off. I downed the rest of my beer and reached a hand out for Emma, “Ready to go?”

Emma took my hand. As we walked I twined my fingers with hers. I wanted to walk like this for hours. The simplicity of holding hands is something not be overlooked. Fingers laced, palms pressed together, and the necessity of walking a little bit closer. This feeling. The newness. The thrill. The anticipation. I love them all.

The sky lit up with a streak of lightning in the distance. I looked around, unsure of my bearings. “Is that coming or going?”

“We'll be driving toward it.”

The next flash was closer and the thunder rolled loud. Walking hand in hand by the river was out. “Better get you home.”

In the SUV I waited for my phone to hook into the entertainment center before handing it off to Emma with Spotify open. “Play me your five songs.”

After listening to her five songs I had her search for mine. She did like the Puscifer song. She thought it sounded like stripper music. She's not wrong.

I can not believe it's three in the morning. We talked for nine hours. This has to be the longest first date ever. Unless you count the one's that go overnight, but that's different. This is the longest date I've even been on that hasn't included sex. Or a two and a half hour movie. Nine hours sitting with one person talking about family, friends, and music. How in the fuck did we fill up nine hours? I don't feel like I've even scratched the surface of knowing her or showing her who I am. With the exception of a couple of times it was nine hours of nothing conversation. I don't mean that in a bad way. I'm not bothered. I'm amazed.

Now I'm faced with what next? Imminently, not existentially. Realistically most of my dates end up in bed. Usually I go out with someone I've met on set, an event, or a party. We've got on well enough to ask her out. We go to dinner, back to one of our places to get to know each other.  Conversation pauses, there's a kiss, and boom we're in bed. Sometimes there's not a real date before the sex. Hit it off when we meet and go home together. Nothing wrong there. Sex is what you do while you're getting to know each other.

Or what you do so you don't have to.

None of this means I don't want to go to bed with Emma. Not even close. How do you go from nine hours of talking with nothing more than holding hands to naked and sweaty? Well, I know how you get there, but I'm not sure I should. Even more amazing. I'm not sure I want to. Evans would give me such shit about what I'm thinking. It's been a sweet first date and maybe it's better to leave it that way. If sex is what you do to get to know someone, but we're doing fine doing, why not wait. Show a little restraint. I could ask her what she thinks. Nope. Awkward, presumptuous, and weird. Somebody once told me if you can't talk about sex you shouldn't be doing it. I thought it was bullshit. Now, I'm thinking they might have a point.

All this could change with a kiss. Just one kiss.

The storm was almost on us by the time we got to her place. I ran around to her side of the SUV and walked her to the door. Holding hands like two teenagers. I do not know what to do next. I'm anxious and afraid my hand is turning into a sweaty mess. She unlocked the door and I leaned against the wall. “I had a really good time tonight. I can't remember last time I talked so much. It was a lot fun. Thank you.”

“I had a great time too. Thank you for dinner.”

Emma turned back to face me and stepped closer. This is closer than we've been all night and I have never wanted to stay in a moment so much in my life.

I reached to put my hand on her face. Her eyes fluttered closed when my fingers skated across her cheek. I start to lean in, to close the distance. I closed my eyes. Suddenly a huge crack filled the air and both of us jumped. I yelled, “Fuck” and put my hand over my heart. It's beating out of my chest for more than one reason now.

Emma jumped too and we both started laughing.

The moment I wanted was gone. Dammit. I grabbed her into a hug, “Scared the fuck out of me.” Another crack of thunder and the rain started. I stepped back, “I'll give you a call tomorrow.”

The deluge started after I shut the SUV door. That's lucky. I guess mother nature didn't want me to kiss the girl tonight. No problem.

I'll probably get in the pool at mom's and wait for lightning to strike me.

**tell me something good, fun, full of anxiety.  This lock down is starting to bore me**

[bewareofchris]

Public Relations 5/??

PG-13 atm | Alec Hardy/Dr. Bill Masters | Broadchurch, Masters of Sex | Strong language, eventual sexual situations

“The fact that Alec Hardy was not currently, had not ever, and did not want to date the American sex research did not seem very important at all to the town of Broadchurch.  They did what they had always done with a little bit of juicy gossip: they made a spectacle of it.”

<< prev

Bill had taken the precaution of preparing himself to be stared at.  It was always easier to handle being the center of attention when you had stood in front of the mirror that morning reminding yourself it was only curiosity.  There was nothing wrong with a bit of healthy interest.  (An excess in interest, though, that left a man feeling every so slightly slimy.  There was just something about the slide of long stares across his body that left him with a film of disgust on his skin.  He certainly wished he’d never learned the difference but there was no going back now.)  He had attempted to look casual, like anyone might try to look when they were out on vacation.  Contrary to popular belief at his office, he did own T-shirts.  He just didn’t have any here.  Betty could only pack what she had access to and the only clothes he’d rescued from Libby had been the ones she hadn’t already thrown out or burned.  

Casual was the effect he was hoping for, but the best he’d managed was rolled up sleeves and the top few buttons of his shirt left undone.  Even his shoes were shiny, like a beacon to draw in attention.  He might as well taken to introducing himself as Dr. Bill Masters, I cheated on my wife and got kicked out of the country, I professional observe couples having sex.

Might have been easier to just say ‘cheating pervert’.

The young woman who owned the hotel did not stop him on his way out.  She had been distracted by an oversized crowd in her sitting room.  (Or bar?  Or dining room.  He wasn’t clear on what it was other than it had tables and served beer, maybe.)  It allowed him to escape without too much fuss.  The air was still crisp, and fresh.  

Bill walked without any sense of direction and he found himself along a path that took him closer and closer to the edge of the cliff he’d seen from the beach below.  It was breath taking, like a fist in his chest that robbed his body of oxygen.  It was amazing how small it left him feeling, and how beautiful it was to feel so small. 

And he might have stood there, enraptured in an unfamiliar feeling of smallness and beauty if not for the crude, unwanted interjection of, “for fucks sake,” that sounded a little bit like the skinny stupid man that was fine with dying alone.  Bill turned toward the sound of the voice and there was the bastard himself.  There was a faint blush of color in his face, a shivering restoration of strength to his limbs.  His voice was scraped out of his throat, and his face was twisted up in disbelieving disapproval.  (No it was harder than that, it wasn’t disapproval, it was something like distaste that was bridging into disgust.)  He didn’t say another word but turned immediately and walked away.

“No wait a minute!” Bill shouted after him.  He stumbled after him.  (That came from wearing dress shoes and damp grass.)  It was easy to catch a man with a heart like Alec Hardy’s.  It wasn’t like he was even capable of moving fast enough to avoid a turtle much less a full grown man.  His arm was thin as bones when Bill’s hand caught it and the man whipped around so fast it was unthinkable it was followed with some kind of blow.  A punch, a kick, an open handed slap.  

They were staring at one another, Hardy glaring with contempt and Bill catching his breath (and trying to reason out why he was so vile to the man).  “Just stay well away from me,” Hardy said.

“I have no interest in being near you,” Bill snapped back.  And then, more importantly, “you live here?”

Hardy looked lie he would rather answer any question in the world but that one.  (Or maybe he just didn’t want to admit that he, too, had been sent here by forces beyond his control.)  “Unfortunately.  I mean it, stay away from me.  I don’t have time for you.”  He half turned, stopped, and glanced back at him, as if he were judging if Bill would try to grab him again.  Then he turned full and stalked away.

No amount of imagination, or scientific hypothesizing could have prepared him from this moment.  He had stood in his mirror to prepare himself for nosy baristas, but how could he have known that ill-tempered dying detectives would sneer at him with something that felt almost like hatred.  And what did it even mean I don’t have time for you?  

Bill hadn’t even been asking for time.

He hadn’t been asking for anything but an explanation.  (Maybe.  Maybe just someone that looked almost familiar to him.)  Betty would have loved it, seeing him struck dumb and offended, lost on a cliff side.  She would have died laughing, with a little wink because he’d left so many people feeling the way he felt right now it was about time he got a taste of it.  

The morning had only started and now it felt hopelessly ruined.  (And since there was no hope of improvement, there was nothing stopping him from going back to the coffee shop to be gawked at.)

--

There were far worse things to be than gay.  Being routinely referred to as shitface behind his back came to mind.  And if the whole of his coworkers and the town around them was going to call him such a charming nickname, they could have at least done so with secrecy.  The longer he stayed the less they seemed to care about the pretense of respect.  The last stronghold against the brewing dislike for him was Miller and her amusement at his foulness was almost as annoying.  Hardy didn’t mind being disliked as long as the investigation proceeded properly.

He didn’t mind being thought of as gay either.

But he didn’t have time to fuel any rumors about the sex life that he wasn’t even capable of having.  He wasn’t capable of having anything but a matter of months that was quickly narrowing down to weeks.  His body could feel the failing of his heart and it left him with a sense of dread that couldn’t be ignored.

He’d read somewhere, that’s how it felt when you knew you were going to die.  He remembered seeing it in an article, lost somewhere in late-night wandering through the internet.  He couldn’t remember now if it were true or not, but the idea had stuck with him.  It had been at the back of his mind so long that it had become a fact.  (After all, anything could be true if you believed it long enough.)  The body knew when it was wrong and there was no mistaking that regardless of the spryness of his mind, and the bitterness of his soul, his body was wrong.

Hardy was dying.

He couldn’t have been fucking an American Doctor even if he’d wanted to.  He couldn’t fuck anyone.  He could hardly stand a brisk walk.  He couldn’t even manage an intense emotion without his chest crushing itself.  He could feel the fist of pain starting, and his head was spinning before he’d even made it back to the hotel.  He had intended to go straight to work, but there was no hope in making it there now.

He got through the door without collapsing, let it slam behind him with no sense of decorum or shame.  Becca leaned out of the doorway of her gathered assembling of snoops to squint at him with concern.  She said, “are you alright,” as he walked past.  “Hey,” she called after him.  Her feet were shuffling after him, because she knew enough about him to know that he was not.  “Do you need an ambulance?”

“No,” Hardy snapped back, “I forgot,” what could have possibly forgotten, “a file.  I’m fine.”  His voice was even enough that he could almost believe himself.  He lost her in the hallway, she didn’t follow him the whole way to his room.  That was a small miracle.

Hardy wasn’t interested in thanking God for anything lately, but he spared the idea of a prayer to be thankful that he made it all the way to his room before his legs turned rubbery.  He lurched for the bottle of pills he’d left on the bedside table.  He landed on his knees against the bed, collapsing sideways so he could sit.  His hands were shaking as he opened the bottle and pushed the pill into his mouth.

The pain was intense as the anger.  The anger was useless, it wouldn’t keep him alive.  The anger was a reminder of everything he was losing, or had lost, or still had just enough time to lose.  He’d lost his wife, and he’d lost his reputation, and he’d lost his daughter.  He’d let a child murderer go free and he couldn’t sleep without remembering it, remembering the exact second that he’d found out.

There were two dead little girls out there that couldn’t have justice for what was done to them.  There was a murderer free, toasting Alec Hardy as the fuck up who let him go.  

And Hardy was here, pressing a fist against his own chest, feeling a well of fury and unfairness that could have drown any man.  Hardy was here, right now, taking his time about dying.  

Not just yet.  Not until he found the man who killed Danny Latimer.

next>>

@marvelmisha, if you’d like to be tagged on future updates just let me know.

[maxhoemo]

tw; abuse, suicidal thoughts (not explicit)

have a scene that came to me randomly at 3am. Inspired by a request, but not the actual fill for that request. 

It was getting harder and harder to avoid fights. Max wasn’t sure how he caused them. But he knew he was the cause of them. His girlfriend, Annie told him so. And after a while of being told things, one tends to start to believe it. Like the way she always liked to remind him of the time her friend had said to her; “Why are you with Max? He’s not attractive. He’s not smart. He’s not successful...” Soon, you start to doubt your own intelligence. Your own self image. Your own worth. 

He had agonized for days how to bring this up to Annie. She always had people over. Every night. Max understood. She worked hard. But Max hadn’t been able to film any videos all week, and he was starting to run out of his backlog. “I just need a few evenings where the house is quiet...Or we could get some sound-proofing...”

“All you ever do is ask for money! Am I just your ATM!?”

“No, no, no!” Max had backtracked in every way he could. 

He just had never learned how to avoid it. The screaming. And the throwing things. And the violence. He was sure there was a way, but he just hadn’t found it yet. It was becoming more and more common then it had ever been. 

Annie liked makeup sex. Max didn’t. 

Annie liked to buy things to apologize. It was funny. She always accused him as treating her as a bank, or spending too much. But she would spend so much money on him. Not anything he’d ever asked for of course. The more gifts Max received, the worse the fights would get. He really did wonder what she wanted him around for.

Tonight was a night, just after one of these incidents. Max was still pretty shaken up. He’d gone to the kitchen for a glass of water. 

“Max.”

Max jumped, turning around in the darkness. His glass falling to the ground with a crash.

“What’s wrong with you!?”

“I’m sorry...!”

“You’re always so sorry!”

“I’m sorry...”

“Stop saying that! Don’t be sorry! Clean it up! Dumb cunt...”

Yet again. He just didn’t know how to avoid it... As he dumped the dust pan of glass into the trash can, he heard her footsteps climbing the stairs back to bed. 

Max took a deep, but shaky breath. Letting himself out through the sliding glass door, into the backyard. Grabbing a small wooden box from a patio table and taking it over to the sitting area in the backyard. It was beautiful. White whicker chairs, surrounded by a white canopy mosquito net and lined with fairy lights. Anyone who came over and used it instantly got the impression that he and Annie were the perfect, happy couple.

Opening up the little box, Max rolled himself a joint. It wasn’t booze, but it would do in a pinch. Lighting it, he took a long, slow inhale. Then did the same on the exhale. He just needed this. Needed something. Something that would make escaping to his happy place a little bit easier.

“Hi, Max.” Finally. After several minutes the voice finally greeted him.

“Ian...” Max smiled. Ian smiled back at him. 

“How are you doing?”

“Oh... Not good...”

“I know.” Ian’s face was so understanding. Just as it always was.

“I can’t take it, Ian.”

“It’s okay, Max. Everything’s gonna be fine.”

“Ian...” Max sobbed.

“It’s okay. You’re okay. You’re okay.”

“I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

“Can you just stay here with me?”

“Of course.”

“Oh Ian. How did I end up like this?”

“It isn’t your fault.”

“Will you be here for me?”

“Of course. Always.”

“Will you protect me?”

“You know I will.”

“Ian... Can you take me away from all this? I just wanna be with you. Please. Let’s run away and be together.”

“No. I can’t.”

“W-what...? What do you mean you can’t?” Max felt tears start in his eyes. Slowly, sliding down his cheek.

“I’m not gay, Max.”

 “I’m not gay...” He choked out.

“Max...”

“Ian, please! I need you!”

“I’m not gay, Max. You know that.”

“No!”

“You know I’m not interested in you in that way.”

“Stop it!”

“You know I have a girlfriend who I love.”

“Ian, why are you doing this!?”

“Telling you the truth?”

“No...”

“Do you want me to lie to you?”

“I want you to love me! I want you to love me the way I love you! You’re the only person who cares about me.”

“I do love you. You’re my best friend.”

Max buried his face in his hands. Sobbing harder. “Go away! Just go away! This is all wrong!”

“I want to help you, Max.”

“Then take me away from this!”

“But Max. I don’t believe you.”

Max’s head snapped up. “Shut up! Shut up!”

“I don’t believe you. Erin and Annie are such good friends. She’d never do anything to hurt you.”

“Nooo-ho-ho-hooo...” He screamed it rough in his throat. 

“Max! Ian! We should do more stuff as couples. That was so fun when we...!”

“Go away Erin! I hate you, i hate you, I hate you, I hate you! I hate you so fucking much! I hate you, I hate you! I hate you!!” His fists were clenched so hard, his nails dug deep into his skin. “Why did you take Ian from me!? How can you be so fucking stupid!? Why is Annie your best friend, you dumb cunt! You turned my best friend against me! I would kill you if I could!” He took a second to breath. “Ian! Help me...” he begged.

“But Max... You guys seem so happy... I don’t understand....”

“Ian, I love you! Tell me you love me!”

“Max, stop. You know I like women. Only.”

“Ian. You know what happens to me. I’ve told you everything.”

“No,” Ian sneered. “You’re too pussy. You’ve told your imaginary boyfriend. You’d never tell the real Ian.”

“...But I can’t...”

“You’re pathetic.”

Max brought his feet up on the chair, hugging his knees together. “I know... I just want to die, Ian...”

“Why?”

“Because. I don’t know how to get out of this. I want you to come and save me, but I know you won’t....” he sniffled. “If you were gay, would you like me?”

“No. I could do much better than you. You’re ugly. You’re fat. You’re stupid. And you’re so annoying! I’d probably have to hit you too.”

“...That isn’t true...”

“Then why did you think it?”

Max didn’t have an answer. “I want to call Ian.”

“I won’t answer. I don’t have time for you anymore. I’m with Erin.”

“I know...”

“Do you think I should ask her to marry me?”

“No.”

“When are you proposing to your girlfriend?”

“Never.”

“I think it would be better if you pretended you two were as happy as everyone thinks you are.”

“I want to die.”

Ian chuckled. “I know.”

“How should I do it?”

“You have to go on. For your dog.”

“She wants to take my dog away from me. She says I’m not responsible. I think she knows how much he helps me. I can’t have help. She likes me like this...”

“Why’s that, Max?”

“I don’t know... Easy to control maybe...”

“Yes. You are.”

“I want Ian to talk to me until I die.”

“I won’t answer your calls.”

“I know...”

“Why do you fall in love with people who hurt you?”

“I guess I’m stupid.”

“Yeah. Annie’s right about you.”

“Oh.....Can’t you please love me? Like you did before?”

“That was all fake. The real Ian won’t love you.”

“I don’t care... I just need you. Please.”

....

“Ian?...Ian...?”

[slightly-weird-man]

Right , so , this thing needs a disclaimer warning: I wrote this over an all-nighter fueled by coffee and alcohol, and so there are many , many plot holes that don't make any sense. If anyone ever actually sees it, feel free to shout at me about how it's shit.

Anyway, here's a short film script I wrote about two disabled lesbians , helping each other be happy at a house party. I am not mute, deaf , or a lesbian, so I am intensely sorry if this offends anyone.

I do have a basic plot for an entire film of this thing, as well as internal monologue scripts for both Jane and Lilly in this, but I won't post those atm, because they're a bit sh*t - if anybody wants them, ask me and I'll post them then

Other Means

Characters

Lilly- mute, from birth. Knows sign language, and goes to a college out of town. Know the host because they’re online friends. Is mature and confident. Has had experiences with women. Eleanor from the good place, or Ramona from Scott pilgrim or Linda from blood brothers(theatre show- not a film surprisingly). Forward, strong, funny, and not afraid to speak her mind. However, she is also kind, and sympathetic which should be a key part of her character- she’s struggled , and now doesn’t want other people to struggle.

Jane - deaf, newly, due to a scuba diving accident. Doesn’t know much sign language, and still goes to the same college. Isn’t comfortable talking, because she’s still learning to control her volume, because now she can’t hear her own voice. Knows the host from that college, before she was deaf. Syd from I Am Not okay With This, or Vanya from Umbrella Academy. Still confident, and tries her hardest, but is still struggling due to new pressures.

Setting:

A house party- hosted by Sam, friend of both, asexual. Is not a dick. He shows up to introduce them. 15 people or less, won’t see more than a few at a time.

Open, black screen . “ southern nights “ by Glen Campbell plays, as the picture fades in. We see Lilly standing behind a conversation, with a sign hung around her neck saying “physically can’t talk. Mute since birth. I’d love to chat though!” she has a drink in her hand, and is slumping/leaning against a wall.

Cut to a POV shot of Jane , trying to conversate with a notepad, but struggling

Cut to a shot of Lilly , signing to Sam ,”what’s her name?”

Sam, obviously intrigued: that’s my friend Jane. She lost her hearing recently, so she’s still trying to acclimate. Why?

Lilly signs, “nothing”.

Cut to a symmetrical shot of Lilly and Jane, with Lilly on the left and jane on the right. Lilly signs at Jane, but Jane makes it clear that she can’t understand her. Writes on her notepad

Notepad: don’t speak BSL yet sorry. I’m Jane, what’s your name?

She visibly passes the notepad to Lilly

Notepad: Hi Jane, I’m Lilly.

Points to sign hung round neck

Notepad: you seemed a little out of your depth, so I just wanted to give a helping hand.

Hands the notepad back to Jane, who looks visibly touched by Lilly’s kindness.

Notepad: thank you! That’s so kind! I am sorry I can’t do BSL tho, it seems like it would be easier for you

Jane goes to give Lilly the notepad back, but then Lilly pulls a notepad of her own out of a pocket/bag, doing that thing you do when you reveal something, raising it and showing it off.

*from now speech is on notepads, except from when specified otherwise*

Lilly: it’s fine , we’ll just have to communicate through other means”

title card, somehow incorporating notepads, the lesbian flag, Keanu reeves, super mario, and those hear-no-evil, speak-no-evil monkeys.

Open back on Jane and Lilly playing Mario Kart. It’s a shot from the tv’s POV, so we can see their faces and the glow of the TV, but not what they’re playing. Jane is inexperienced at this, and it should be showing- she’s grunting, and mumbling, and cursing but quite loudly. Lilly on the other hand, is very calm and quite good at the game. However, after something particularly funny that Jane mumbles loudly, Lilly throws down her controller and starts to laugh silently. Understandably, Jane is quite confused

Jane: what’s wrong? Are you alright?

Lilly sits up, reads note, breaks into more silent laughter. Composes herself quickly once she see’s Jane’s concerned face

Lilly: no, I’m fine- worry about yourself! You were making noises like a drunk hamster!

Cut to an over Lilly’s shoulder shot , Jane reads this note, and then looks embarrassed, and looks around to see if everyone’s staring at her. Lilly perceives this mood, writes

Lilly: don’t worry, no one cares anymore- they’re all sloshed enough to not

She gestures to the tv

Lilly: another game?

Cut back to symmetrical. They tense back into playing positions. If I can, I want to transition here like a Scott Pilgrim one, with someone walking in front of the camera, then swiping the scene to a different scene. Lilly and Jane are on the same couch, but are now much more relaxed.

Lilly: ok , shag marry kill… me, Sam , Keanu Reeves.

Jane: f*ck off, I’m not answering that

Lily: come on!

Jane: alright then…. I’d marry you, shag Sam, and kill Keanu reeves

Lily: (draws a big shocked face) how dare you kill Keanu Reeves! The man is a gift to the world!

Jane, now quite drunk: exactly why I’m sure he would die so that the two of you could live- I’d rather not have two of my friends die, and honestly, I’d look forward to shagging Sam, have you seen that man’s shoe size

Lilly rolls her eyes, while Jane stares dreamily off towards a sam in the distance, as if a 1920’s flapper for the briefest of moments

Lilly: alright, two truths and a lie now, k?

Jane motions for her to carry on

Lilly: alright, here they are: I am bisexual, I have had a run in with the new York mob, and 50% of this party thinks you’re cute.

Jane looks confused for a moment, perhaps raising an eyebrow,

Jane: I can definitely picture you as the sort of person to incur a mobster’s wrath, and I have always had a decent gaydar, but there is no way that half of the people here think I’m cute- that’s the lie!

Lilly shakes her head, while making an exaggerated thing like she’s tutting.

Lilly: you weren’t wrong about that gaydar, but I’m afraid you pegged me as a little too open- the fairer sex is where it’s at girl!

Jane: really? 50%?

Lilly does the wobbly hand thing, to signify “roughly”

Lilly,: from what I’ve picked up on at the drinks tables, and my own personal opinion, yeah.

Jane is confused with this statement, motioning between her and Lilly ,and mouthing “cute?”

Lilly: yes, you’re cute- it’s your turn though.

Jane blushes, thinks for a moment, then gets to scribbling.

Jane: alright-I once discovered a genuine David bowie signature on an old £10 note, I’m bisexual, and I play in played in a synthpop band.

Jane should start staring sadly into the middle distance at this point, tearing up if possible. Lilly shouldn’t notice, because she’s pondering and scribbling.

Lilly: I know that the David Bowie one is false, because that is a felony in the UK! She looks up and notices that Jane is looking down. She reaches out to hold Jane’s shoulder.

c/u of Jane’s sad face, nearly crying .Music switches now, from black parade to some Kanye west.

Jane: is there music playing?

Lilly nods

Jane: what song?

Lilly shrugs

Lilly: some rap shite. Not my style.

Jane continues to break down over no music, while Lilly rummages in her pockets. Suddenly, (in c/u) Lilly grabs Jane’s hand, opens her palm, and places an in ear headphone in it.

Lilly: heard about this from a deaf buddy of mine. Should do you right.

Then from silence, we hear the first few chords of “space oddity” fade in. Jane’s face lights up , and she looks up to Lilly.

Low angled shot from Jane’s perspective, of Lilly reaching down to her, in the traditional “shall we dance” way. Jane gets up, and they dance simply for a bit, before Jane pulls Lilly in for a deep hug, and we get the cliché, heads over the shoulders shot.

We then cut to them on the pavement in front of the house. They are leaning on each other as they stroll. Careless whisper is playing softly in the background, like it’s emanating loudly from the house.

We see Jane reach into a side pocket, and pull out the same notepad as before.

Jane: so… do you wanna go for coffee sometime?

Lilly reads this with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.

Lilly: so, a date then. Are you sure? I’m quite high maintenance .

She points to the sign , still hung around her neck. c/u of Jane leaning in, to whisper something into Lilly’s ear.

Jane, speaking softly: yes I’m sure, silly

Cut to a shot of them separating, and then walking away from the camera, backs to the audience, holding hands. If we need to, roll credits over this with soft music- it must be love by madness- specifically the line " how can it be that we can say so much without words"

[artificialqueens]

My loneliness is killing you (Vatya) /Part 9/ - Polly

Author’s Note: So here’s the next MILKY chapter that I had done for the longest time except one paragraph. But times are tough but good (Guess who works 30 hours a week and also has Uni on 2 days). Anyway, this isn’t anything special but I do love this fic so I hope you enjoy!! xx

(PS: I’m rereading ‘A story about love’ and it will come back out of its semi absence soonish (soon as in probably this year) and this is a promise)

TW: mention of human trafficking, mention of underaged prostitution

All Chapters on AO3 and AQ

Sneak into my DM’s (ok its my ask box) here and drop me a line

Summary: ‘How to Get Away with Murder’ trophy wife style. (LESBIAN AU)

(2.1k)

Before

It’s early morning morning and the sun makes the baby hairs around Katya’s face look golden and Violet calls her beautiful. She tells Katya that her parents are in jail, that most her family is in jail, that her parents were con artists and that Violet has stopped calling a long time ago when they breakfast half an hour later. Katya just nods but doesn’t look surprised. Sometimes Violet forgets that Katya didn’t grow up as a pretty spoiled princess either.

“I came to America because my uncle sold me to settle a debt,” she says instead. There’s a pause that stretches on for a long time. Katya starts to look uncomfortable. “Sold you?” Violet asks slowly.

“Yeah.” Violet pauses again and tries to figure out how to just brush over human trafficking but finds it kind of hard to drop it. “How? Why? What? When?” she blurts out instead. Katya laughs a little now. “He was in a gang or the mafia or something. I actually never found out. One day he comes to our house and tells my mom he’s going to America and that I should come because there’s a lot of opportunities there and you know…. my mom…,” she pauses for a moment “she loved me a lot so she said yes. She didn’t know. She couldn’t have known and she meant well. But there I was, 16 years old and in a plane for the first time and I thought that nothing can be this bad when the world can look this small. Then my uncle bought me to a crack house slash brothel slash all things illegal and said 'those people will take care of you Yekaterina. Be good.’” She deepens her voice when she says that and smiles, fucking smiles when talking about her uncle pimping her out. “And then I was there until I was 18 and it was pretty bad.” She doesn’t go into detail and Violet imagines horrible things and knows that it probably was ten times worse. “When I was 18 I was legal and they upgraded me and then I was a high class Russian whore. That’s how I met David.” She shrugs her shoulders and takes a bite of her blueberry muffin and her and Violet stare at each other for a moment, Violet with furrowed brows and Katya almost expectantly while chewing. “It wasn’t that bad,” she adds after a long moment, looking almost sorry. “Right,” Violet breathes out quickly when she realises that a long time has passed without her saying anything. It was bad but it’s too similar to the stories Violet has heard before, stories of her cousins, her friends from school and Violet knows that Katya knows it’s bad too but it’s easier to not acknowledge some things sometimes. And Violet understands how Katya can stay in her abusive relationship for years. This is better than before and sometimes better is as good as it gets.

Christian calls her some time later to tell her that he’s sending a driver for later in the day to get Violet because his parents are coming to town and Violet wants to cry because somehow his mother is even worse than Christian himself.

Katya draws lazy patterns on Violet’s arm and tells her she’s going to be okay. She looks sorry and so much younger when she kisses Violet goodbye later and tries to tell both of them that it will be alright.

- The winter passes in one cold, sad blur. Violet runs into Katya once two days before Christmas and they go for coffee and Katya complains about how for David it all seems to be about money and fancy parties and expensive gifts.

“Our Christmas would be different,” she says.

“Our as in your and my Christmas?”

Katya blinks at her for a moment. “Yeah, your and my Christmas. I think it would be nice.”

“I don’t like Christmas,” Violet says before taking a sip of the hot chocolate with cinnamon Katya had forced her to get while telling her ‘to ‘shut the fuck up about fat percentages and get in the holiday spirit, Violet.’

Katya grabs onto Violet’s underarm with both her hands and looks at Violet manically. “What?”

“I….,” Violet looks at Katya’s face intensely and is suddenly feeling like she’s saying the wrong thing. “…never liked Christmas?”

Katya lets go of Violet’s atm and throws her hands up in surrender with an accompanying groan and Violet thinks she’s being a bit dramatic. “But why? I mean I get that it’s grossly intertwined with capitalism over here but it’s about love and family and all that. Who would hate that?”

“I never said I hate it, I-“

“You didn’t say you love it either, you actually said you never-“

“Can you not interrupt me? I said I don’t like it. It’s not like I hate it.”

Katya is quiet for a moment. “But… why?”

Violet shrugs her shoulders. “My parents were criminals and apparently Christmas was the busiest time of the year. So I spend Christmas at my neighbor’s house. But Pearl’s mom was a drug addict so it wasn’t really that great either.”

“Pearl is a stupid name.”

“You’re only saying that because I told you I had sex with her once.”

“Maybe so.”

Violet only grins back and Katya shakes her head slowly but Violet can see the smile in the corner of her lips.

“Anyway,” Katya continues with an eye roll “if you and I would have Christmas together we’d do it all. Bake all the Christmas cookies, decorate the tree, decorate all the cookies, watch Christmas movies, eat all the Christmas cookies and-“

“What the fuck that’s so domestic. Are you alright,hon?” Violet grins and puts her hand up against Katya’s forehead and pretends to check for her temperature.

Katya bats her hand away with a small laugh. She takes Violet’s hand in between both of her own. “You’re awful,” she says and smiles.

They talk about everything and nothing and Christmas a lot and it’s nice, so nice but then David picks Katya up and his stares make Violets skin crawl.

-

She sees Katya twice after their coffee date. Both times at parties and they can’t really talk but Katya doesn’t look fully miserable and that has to do for now.

When spring comes to New York so does Violet’s cousin Kurtis. Christian suddenly has a business trip that lasts the entirety of Kurtis’ stay. Precisely. Christian tells her to just take Katya to brunch with Kurtis instead and Violet tries to not look too pleased.

Kurtis spends most of the brunch watching Violet and Katya. He kicks Violet under the table once and whispers something about non existing subtlety in her ear while Katya is ordering another coffee.

It’s a bit later, when all three of them are done eating and decided to go shopping that he takes Violet to the side while Katya is trying on shoes on the other side of the store.

“You love her,” he says matter of factly. Violet laughs nervously, glances at Katya and forces Kurtis to try on six pairs of shoes and buys them all. He tries to refuse but Violet insists and mumbles something about birthdays or christmases and it it feels like hush money that she knows won’t work on Kurtis because he would’ve never told anyone in the first place. He doesn’t let it go either though. They’re sitting on the sofa, legs entangled while watching Mean Girls, 15 years old Violet’s favourite, when he brings Katya up again. He puts a hand just above Violet’s knee and looks very serious suddenly. “I just want you to be happy, Vi.“ He looks at her for a moment before looking back to the TV. "Money can’t buy happiness.” Violet doesn’t answer but thinks about their talk long after he left and well into the next year.

She shakes the truthfulness of his words of. Money can’t buy happiness. But money can buy comfort and comfort is better than the crippling feeling of there never being enough to go around.

-

The sun in southern France is warm on Violet’s skin, so much warmer than she had ever expected for it only being May. She doesn’t know if it is always like this here, has never been to France, has never even been to Europe except for her three day honeymoon trip to Stockholm that Christian had mindfully connected with a business trip a few months back. But that had been last spring and Stockholm was nothing like the azur blue ocean and the view of Marseille in the background she was having now.

And Violet loves the ocean, loves how wide it is and is a bit pissed of that Katya doesn’t have the same view now. At least she was on board of the boat too, actually driving it; a fact that confused Violet beyond belief. To give up that kind of control to Katya didn’t struck her as very on par with David’s character. She watches as he takes another sip of champagne and looks on as his face goes sour for a split second and she knows that he will never get used to the taste of it, that he hasn’t been raised on champagne, oysters, monthly trips overseas and that he never feels like he belongs.

There is an army of rich, white people living in the upper class of New York and whose families have been there for the longest time. There is an army of people whose upbringings, motives, movements Violet might never understand. The cold sentences, stiff handshakes, fake smiles, deluded friendships, empty promises and judging stares made Violet’s skin crawl. Christian is one of them. Violet can tell that the guests that came with them onto the yacht were too. Violet knows how to pretend she is one of them. Katya tries hard to make sure that they don’t even get the idea that she is one of them. David isn’t one of them and never will be.

He is all new money; laughs at inappropriate times, reads all social clues wrong, wore the wrong shoes with his belt one too many times. He is almost as out of place as Violet and Katya. But David has the money, is in fact richer than some of the people he associates with. It doesn’t change anything. In such a small group it was evident that he could never possibly close the gap he doesn’t even know exists. This might be his boat but the conversation would never be his. Violet watches him intently and she doesn’t get him but is intrigued by this economical genius that much like Katya grew up on a farm and understands a bit why Katya had once thought that David would be her saviour, that they were a bit the same.

Violet would love to hear Katya’s thoughts on everything. She wants to know Katya’s thoughts on most things these days, could spend days talking to her, finds everything about her endlessly fascinating. She wishes Katya would be upstairs now, especially upon seeing how David grows angrier, uneasier every time Christian talks over him and Violet has no doubt that Katya would be the one to pay for that at the end of the day in one way or another. David catches her staring and his facial expression lightens. He throws her a smile that she fears is supposed to be flirtatious. Her stomach clenches. “I’m glad you came with us today, Violet,“ he speaks suddenly, slowly, while letting his eyes move over Violet’s almost nude body and she wishes to have something to cover the tiny bikini. She tears her gaze away from him, taking a sip of champagne while her hand is shaking lightly. Christian clears his throat glares at Violet in a fashion that she know means that somehow this is her fault. “Violet, you can leave us alone now. We have business to attend.“ It’s not a request, not even a question. It’s an order and normally Violet would feel anger boiling up but for once she is glad. She just wants away. Away from David’s stares, the predatory grins the other two men have on their faces when Violet rises from her sitting position, away from Christian’s clenched jaw and constructed cold expression. Violet holds tightly onto her own glass of champagne and quickly moves down the stairs to where she assumes Katya is.

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[hastybooks]

RULES: Answer these 85 statements and tag some people

@chriscuomo tagged me in this despite my old age, thank you~

THE LAST

1. Drink: black coffee

2. Phone call: my sister

3. Text message: “should i return this glass cover to best buy it keeps falling off”

4. Song you listened to: “bad ones” by matthew dear feat. tegan and sara

5. Time you cried: yesterday, i blame pms

6. Dated someone twice: once, it did not end well

7. Kissed someone and regretted it: a few more times than i’d like but at least there were no dire consequences?

9. Lost someone special: yes

8. Been cheated on: no

10. Been depressed: yes, off and on (age 16 to 19 was a terrible void)

11. Gotten drunk and thrown up: yes. when you get a 32-jug of beer at granite city do not go for ANOTHER ONE

3 FAVOURITE COLOURS

12. vivid purple

13. black

14. lime green

IN THE LAST YEAR HAVE YOU

15. Made new friends: yes, i hope!

16. Fallen out of love: ahahah i’ve never been in love

17. Laughed until you cried: er... maybe, not sure. easier to laugh before november 9th 2016

18. Found out someone was talking about you: yes. nice things, even

19. Met someone who changed you: we all change each other, questioner

20. Found out who your friends are: this sounds like probing for Drama and i’m sorry i am not very Dramatic

21. Kissed someone on your facebook list: no thank god

GENERAL

22. How many of your facebook friends do you know in real life: i’m related to most of them. unfortunately.

23. Do you have any pets: not at the moment

24. Do you want to change your name: it’d be nice if my surname began with Mac instead of Mc so that people could know how to say it without me telling them it rhymes with mac-n-cheese

also i have a pen name so that i can write disgraceful sexy stories lmao. i’ve always liked ‘parker’

25. What did you do for your last birthday: had the weekend off, an endless stream of gin and tonic cocktails, and various tastes in porn videos

26. What time did you wake up: 5:45 am

27. What were you doing at midnight last night: i was fast asleep, i can barely make it to midnight now omg

28. name something you can’t wait for: the fall of the regime, comrade

29. When was the last time you saw your mom: three weeks ago. insert anger emoji here

31. What are you listening to right now: my fingers jabbing the keyboard

32. Have you ever talked to a person named tom: i have two uncles named tom. i have three cousins named tom. you can detect the lack of creativity in naming baby boys on both sides of my family.

33. Something that is getting on your nerves: the regime

34. Most visited website: tumblr, metafilter, dreamwidth

35. Hair colour: red

36. Long or short hair: medium

37. Do you have a crush on someone: no

38. What do you like about yourself: good question. i’m a quick study.

39. Want any piercings: i have none and plan to get none.

40. Blood type: a-positive

41. Nickname: hasty, kate, kay, look my given name is katharinedkfjireghjsafakuhwui SO it leads itself a lot to people calling me kathy and shit

42. Relationship status: single

43. Zodiac: scorpio

44. Pronouns: she/her, them/they? i have an uneasy relationship with femininity at times esp when they try to use it for marketing purposes

45. Favourite tv show(s): i hate to be a pretentious artsy person but i don’t actually watch tv unless people point out a show

46. Tattoos: i want one but i want it to be cool enough to be on my body for the rest of my life

47. Right or left handed: left, although that’s for writing and i’m ambidextrous enough to abuse myself with either hand

48. Surgery: first one was a minor plastic surgery when i was a very little kid and i slipped and landed face first on a patch of ice and rock (they stitched up my badly torn lip), second was when i was seven and they put in my cochlear implant, third was when my leg was broken and the fracture was bad enough a titanium rod went into my tibia, fourth one was when they removed the screws from the rod because it was bothering me like the dickens.

49. Piercing: none

50. Sport: hockey to watch, soccer to do

51. Vacation: a beach with cute ppl and cocktails and 100000 SPF sunblock

52. Pair of trainers: converse

MORE GENERAL

53. Eating: i had one of those weird cinnamon rolls you pop into the microwave. leave me alone.

54. Drinking: no liquid atm

55. I’m about to: get dressed and do my hair

56. Waiting for: money to land into my account

57. Want: the fall of the regime

58. Get married: i guess? i’d be ok if i was single the rest of my life

59. Career: hahahaha you’re funny. writer, better writer, even better writer

WHICH IS BETTER

60. Hugs or kisses: kisses

61. Lips or eyes: eyes

62. Shorter or taller: taller

63. Older or younger: younger (sush!)

64. Nice arms or nice stomach: arms

65. Hook up or relationship: er. sex really improves when you do it with the same person multiple times? so a very good friend ok

66. Troublemaker or hesitant: troublemaker, i still haven’t shaken off my goody-two shoes tendencies and i only tried pot this year

HAVE YOU EVER

67. Kissed a stranger: yes

68. Drank hard liquor: all the time

69. Lost glasses/contact lenses: no but i have lost an hearing aid :/

70. Turned someone down: yes

71. Sex on the first date: yes, if the chemistry is right

72. Broken someone’s heart: probably, i’ve been proposed to twice and turned it down because they were really stupid after coming hard

73. Had your heart broken: ah i was 18 and stupid and they were 18 and stupid.

74. Been arrested: no

75. Cried when someone died: yes

76. Fallen for a friend: yesss? who hasn’t?

DO YOU BELIEVE IN

77. Yourself: pretty much; i don’t disappoint myself too often but when i do UGHGHGH

78. Miracles: i am Very skeptical and also i grew up catholic and thus read about ‘incorruptible bodies’ around the same time CSI was v popular so

79. Love at first sight: nah, that’s lust, son

80. Santa Claus: not since third grade

81. Kiss on the first date: if the chemistry is right

82. Angels: you do realize i have some degree of scientific training, questioner. once again, Very skeptical but not gonna harsh anyone’s vibe. believing in angels is way more harmless than believing in demons

OTHER

83. Current best friend’s name: is this where i list my friends? sorry i’m socially weird. anyway if they enjoy interacting with me and i enjoy interacting with them they’re my friends.

84. Eye colour: grey

85. Favorite movie: legally blond

[aworldinsideaperson]

The ABCs: A Riverdale Fanfiction-Fourteen

Introduction/AN: I’m sorry this took so long I am really just going through it with life atm. I am not CRAZY about the chapter but it’s not the worst chapter either. Look for Beronica (OTP) foreshadowing! And as always let me know what you think!

Word Count: 1,787

Warnings: None that I can think of? Swearing if you need that as a warning?

ABCs Masterlist

Side Note: If you asked to be tagged and I didn’t tag you please send me a message or ask again, I had all the names saved on a document and I guess it didn’t save the updated version of it so these were the only ones that were left on there. Or if you want to be tagged in general just ask.

Chapter Fourteen: Girl’s Date at Pop’s

Cassie sat alone in a booth at Pop’s, tapping her freshly painted nails against the table as she waited for two girls to walk through the door. Betty and Veronica weren’t long though the breathtaking brunette holding the door open for her beautiful blonde friend as they made their way into the building. The took a quick look around before spotting Cassie and walked over to her, sliding into the booth across from her.

“Hey, how are you girls?” Cassie asked with a sweet smile.

“We’re good, you?” Betty replied.

Cassie nodded and looked towards Veronica “I’m good, did you enjoy the drive in last night?”

“Yeah, that was a great movie. Jughead played your favorite.” Veronica said with a slight smirk.

Cassie took a deep breath and nodded. While she had been so happy by Jughead keeping his silly promise she also hadn’t thought that someone may have taken notice. “I noticed. Totally unexpected but wasn’t it great?” She asked in an attempt to play it off.

“Definitely.” The two girls across from her nodded.

Hermione then Lodge stepped up to the table holding her note pad and a pencil.“Can I get you ladies anything?” She asked with a polite smile. The girls nodded and placed their orders watching as Mrs. Lodge walked away before continuing their conversation.

“So, are you liking being River Vixens so far?”

“Yeah, it’s everything I thought it would be.” Betty replied in almost a whisper, as if afraid that someone might hear.

“It reminds me of my old school so that’s always nice.”

“How is the transition going, between going to a big all girls school in the city to a small co-ed in the middle of nowhere?” Cassie asked with a giggle in her voice attempting to lighten the mood. It was very evident to anyone looking upon the girls that they weren’t quite comfortable, stiff with forced smiles and laughs. While they all liked one another and B and V were incredibly close neither of them really knew what to do with Cassie or how much of a friend she could or would be to them.

“Good, it’s certainly easier to get dates at school. Not that I had any problems with it before.” She smiled and turned to glance at Betty as her mother stepped up to the table with a tray.

“Here you go ladies, fries, a coffee, a coke, and a shake.” Smiles at the girls  as she placed the items on the table, the three girls thanked her before she walked away then turned back to their conversation.

“Jason says that practically the entire football team is after you for dates.” Cassie gushed before taking a sip of her coke.

“And she keeps rejecting them.” Betty interjected a smile and a slight blush rising to her cheeks.

“Not interested?” Cassie questioned Veronica wide eyed.

Veronica shook her head. “Not bored enough yet.” She insisted causing all three girls at the table to laugh.

Cassie looked to the blonde. “What about you Betty? You’ve certainly blossomed. Any boys in your life or are you still on the never ending Archie train?” She inquired.

Betty nodded and looked down at the table. “I’ve been seeing people.”

“She went on one date and kissed one boy.” Veronica intergected

Betty’s head shot back up to look at the girl across from her with wide eyes. “But I’m over Archie!” She insisted quickly in a defensive tone.

“Good. He didn’t deserve you anyway. You should go out more though, what about-” She cut herself off, whispering his name as she watched him walk through the door. “Jughead.”

Betty squinted her eyes in confusion “Jughead?”

“Oh, ugh, Jughead’s here.” Cassie replied quickly.

The two girls turned around to see their friend standing just inside the doorway. “Juggie? Hey!”Betty exclaimed with a smile.

Jughead turned to them, caught off guard by the encounter. “Hey.” He replied.

“Do you want to join us?” Veronica offered, turning back to look at Cassie for a moment before turning back to Jughead.

He was still and quiet for a moment before shaking his head. “Ugh, no thanks. I’m going to write.” He said pointing to his bag.

“Alright, well we’ll be here if you change your mind.”Betty said with a smile.

Jughead nodded replied with a quick, “Yup.” then made his way to a booth on the other side of the dinner.

The two girls turned back around to face Cassie whose eyes were now staring into her coke. “What is up with you two? I can smell the tension from a mile away.” Veronica asked taking a dainty sip of her coffee.

Cassie sighed and shook her head. “It’s nothing V, really. Anyway, quickly changing the subject, are you two excited for homecoming?” She asked a wide grin painted onto her face.

Veronica perked up slightly “Homecoming?”

“You haven’t told her about homecoming yet?” Cassie asked Betty with wide eyes.

“I totally forgot. That’s coming up soon isn’t it?” Betty questioned.

Cassie nodded. “Next week.”

Betty looked down, stirring her shake with the straw. “My mom probably won’t let me go.”

Cassie and Veronica both gasped. “Unacceptable!” They exclaimed in unison.

Betty’s head shot up and she looked quickly back and forth between the two girls who were each equally shocked by what had just happened. Cassie looked at Veronica with wide eyes, taking a deep breath before turning to Betty and continuing the conversation. “Okay that was weird, but yeah, totally unacceptable. You are a River Vixen, it’s an unwritten rule that you must participate in all homecoming week activities, that includes the game, the parade, and, most importantly, the homecoming dance. You have to go, unless you want Cheryl on your case for the rest of the season if not your entire life.” She whispered the last bit harshly causing the three of them to laugh lightly. “Seriously though, you will show up to your twenty year high school reunion, run into Cheryl and she will still bring up the fact that you didn’t go to homecoming your sophomore year of high school, then you’ll tell her that at least you got out of this town when she never did. Then I’ll have to be mad at you even though I’ll think you’re right because if I don’t the ABCs will get mad at me and then you’ll get to go back to wherever you’re living and my life will be a total cluster fuck all beacuse you did not go to this silly little dance.” Cassie exaggerated causing the two other girls to giggle even more viciously than before. “In all seriousness though, you should go. You’ll have fun, which I don’t think is a word you actually know the mean of.” She finally finished, taking a sip of her drink.

“I know how to have fun.” Betty insisted causing both brunettes to give her a questioning look. “Don’t look at me like that!”

Veronica placed her hand lightly on Betty’s arm to calm her. “For real, we are so going. We can go dress shopping and get ready together. Come on, I’ve never had girl friends that I could do this with in New York. Don’t deprive me of this iconic high school experience.” She pleaded, resting her head against Betty’s shoulder.

Betty looked at her and sighed. “Fine, but Cassie has to come along.”

“Wait, really?” Cassie asked in shock.

Veronica shot off of Betty’s shoulder with a grin. “Oh god yes! Why didn’t I think of that?”

“We could get ready at my place, Cheryl, Lily, and I usually get ready together though.” Cassie offered.

“That’s fine, the more the merrier.” Veronica insisted.

“I hope they see it that way.” Cassie mumbled.

“Oh my god, I am so excited I can’t even wait. Let’s go tomorrow after practice?” Veronica offered in an excited tone looking towards Betty.

Betty nodded and turned to Cassie. “Sounds okay with me.”

“Me too, I’ll have Carter drop us off. As long as you don’t mind riding in an obnoxious red Bentley.” She said with a chuckle.

Veronica’s eyes grew wide again. “Bentley? As in like the car?”

Cassie nodded. “Well, Carter named it Morpheus or something, but yeah. Bentley Motors. You have to have seen it in the school’s parking lot. Four expensive red cars all in a row. Hard to miss.” She mumbled.

“Yeah but I didn’t know the Bentley was your brother’s. I honestly thought he was the Porsche.” Veronica explained.

“Nope, Lily’s the Porsche.” Cassie corrected.

“I thought she had a mini cooper.” Betty added, thinking back to Lily pulling up to school the day after her birthday with the top of the bright red mini rolled down singing at the top of her lungs with the girl that was currently sitting across from her.

“She totaled it this summer.” Cassie explained, remember the the call she had gotten from her very distressed brother in mid August.

“How?” Veronica asked.

“Well, she thought she saw Carter looking at another girl. She went off the deep end and drove the mini cooper through the beach house they were staying.”

“Oh god.” Betty mumbled, placing her hand over her mouth in shock.

“Yeah, she goes to anger management classes once a week but she’s better now. I think it’s probably because her and Carter went to the cabin alone at the end of summer, which can only mean that they started fucking which probably takes a lot of tension away.” Cassie’s eyes grew wide as she realized what she had just said. “Oh my god, forget I said that.”

“Okay, but what does being alone at the cabin have to do with having sex?” Veronica asked.

“It’s an ABC thing, but don’t worry about it. Forget I said anything, it was nice hanging out with you guys and I can’t wait to do it again, Lunch is on me. I’ll see ya tomorrow.” Cassie dug through her purse before pulling out several bills and dropping them on the table. She then stood up and waved to the two girls still in the booth. “Bye.”

“Bye.” They said with a wave.

Cassie began to walk away from the table and towards the door. On her way out she took a look at Jughead, watching him for a short moment as his fingers typed at the keys, his eyes glued to the screen, the same way she had seen him the first time that summer and a million times since then. Then she walked out of the door to Pop’s, pulling the ring from her pocket and slipping it onto her finger as she made her way down the street.

@winteroses​ 

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@blisshbee​ 

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