#i hope this is helpful or of interest to people

[evilmenenjoyer]

Gratitude

Pairing: The Salesman x fem!Reader

SEQUEL to City of Love. Probably not a good fic to read as a stand-alone; read City of Love first for context.

Word count: 5.5k

Warnings: smut (minors dni), dubious consent, rough sex after a fight, degradation, dom/sub dynamics, bruising, marking, pain play/sadomasochism, mirror sex, manhandling, hurt/comfort (but mostly hurt), lots of angst.

Tags: @apookalypse @thecutiepieishere / I do not have an official taglist yet, but I'd be willing to make one if people were interested. If you'd like to be tagged in my fics, or in any additions to this story, let me know somehow!

–––

It's three days later when you see him again, just when you were convinced he left Paris for good.

You knew it would take a lot longer for the reminders of him to leave your mind as well as your body. He's in the marks his hands left on your hips, in the scrapes and faint bruises along your back from when he tossed and squeezed you against the brick wall, in the ghost of his lips on your skin. You can still feel them every time you close your eyes, hear his voice whisper your name against your neck as he came.

It shouldn't surprise you, after everything, to have him knock on your door right as you’re getting ready to have a night out. It still nearly takes your breath away to see him, looking as impeccable as usual in his dark gray suit, smiling as if his mere presence doesn't rock your world upside down a third time.

“What part of ‘don’t ever contact me again’ did you not understand?” you ask, though right away you can tell you don't sound nearly as firm and assertive as you’d like. You wonder if he can tell you hoped, against every rational thought in your brain, that he would come back.

Judging by his smile, you’d bet he can.

“I couldn't help myself,” he responds, raising his hands slightly in mock surrender. “Can I come in?”

That part of you that still clings to rationality, that can tell a good idea apart from a horrible one, lights up like a loud siren in your brain. There's nothing good that could possibly come out of this. Hasn't he toyed with you enough already? With his weird twisted games, tracking you down all the way to a foreign country, sending you off to those horrific games?

Still, you find yourself stepping aside, leaving a gap for him to come through. You’ve never been good at controlling your impulses, after all.

The apartment you’ve been renting for the time being stands in the heart of Paris. It looks exactly what you pictured a typical, glamorous Parisian apartment to look like – high walls, hardwood floors, large arched windows with a stunning view of the city and the Eiffel Tower. It's furnished with all the essentials, and nothing more. You didn't see the need to bring in new furniture or decorations when you didn't even know for how long you’d be staying in the city. At this point, you’re already considering moving on to somewhere else.

“Make yourself at home,” you say. “But I’m going out soon.”

“I see that.” His eyes run over you as he sits at the arm of the couch, shamelessly lingering on the black dress that hugs all your curves at the right spots. “Where are you going?”

“Out.”

You turn your back to him, looking for the earrings you had put down somewhere when you heard the knock on the door. You feel his body heat approach you from behind, his fingertips brushing against a red spot on your shoulder blade that the spaghetti straps of the dress fail to cover.

“Did I do this to you?”

His voice doesn't sound remorseful or apologetic at all. If only, there's a hint of pride to his tone, a small smile at the corner of his lip that you can tell is there without even looking at him. It should upset you, thinking of how roughly he pushed you against that wall, but it has goosebumps blooming all over your skin around the spot he touches.

“Who else would it be?” Your voice shakes ever so slightly against your will, and you clear your throat to get rid of it.

You expect him to pull back, but instead he inches even closer. He has to lean down to mold his chest to your back, his lips brushing the delicate skin of your neck when he speaks. “I can make it up to you.”

“Oh, really?” You turn your head just enough to chase after his lips. Screw the night out. He lets you capture them, indulging you in only a quick kiss before pulling away.

“I’m serious. I have something for you.”

“Oh.” You frown at the loss of contact, turning to face him. “What is it?”

“Close your eyes.”

Your frown deepens, and he raises his eyebrows at you. “Don't you trust me yet?” he asks.

No. Absolutely not. Still, what's the worst that can happen? What would he do while you have your eyes closed that he can't do right now; that he couldn't have done three nights ago at that bar, when you gave yourself to him so willingly?

You close your eyes, with a small sigh as if letting him know it's a nuisance. There's no real heat to it, and you both know it.

The Salesman’s hands find their way to your arms, guiding you further into the apartment. You follow his lead slowly, careful not to bump into any furniture or clutter you left around the place while picking an outfit and getting ready.

“You didn't have to give me a gift,” you say, still confused about what this is about. He stops walking the two of you, leaving you in an unknown part of the apartment. Your heart beats slightly faster than normal; distrustful, but excited. No man has ever bought you a gift before. Gifts are for girlfriends, for women they're trying to impress. Somehow, in all your years on this Earth, you’d missed out on being that woman to anyone.

“I was feeling romantic,” he explains. You feel something cold land over the exposed skin of your neck and chest, and he fiddles with a clasp at the nape of your neck. “Blame it on Paris. You can open your eyes.”

You do so, finding yourself standing in your bedroom, right in front of the large mirror resting against the wall. The necklace stands out against your skin – thin white gold chain and gemstones shining so bright you can immediately tell they're real, a ruby and a sapphire encrusted by tiny crystals. The color choice is an odd one for a necklace, prompting you to take a closer look. That's when any hints of a smile vanish from your face.

The gemstones are placed beside each other, the shapes and markings in them identical to those of the ddakji tiles you and the Salesman had played together in the subway station.

“I had it custom-made for you,” he says. Standing behind you, his reflection on the mirror takes up almost the entire background, but you don't pay him any mind. Your eyes are all but glued to the red and deep blue stones hanging from your neck, hoping against hope that you had seen it all wrong, that this was just a figment of your imagination and the real necklace will reveal itself if you just look hard enough.

It never does.

Reality hits you then. This isn’t some fun new fling, or the beginning of a Paris romance. This is the man who lured you into a horribly traumatic experience when you were at your most vulnerable, who came all the way from Seoul just to rub in your face that you didn't deserve to make it out of there alive. And now here he is. Prying his way into your apartment, your body, your mind. And you just let him.

Horror floods you, nearly pushing you to your knees right here. You touch the pendant with shaky fingers, and it takes everything in you not to grab the chain and yank it off your neck. Finally, your eyes meet the Salesman’s in the mirror.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

He blinks innocently. “You don't like it?”

“Why would you do this?” you ask, unsure of whether you want to burst into tears or slap him in the face.

His fingers join yours where they rest on the necklace, only grazing your skin on their way to touching the pendant. “I thought you'd like a reminder.”

That makes you spring into action, pulling away from him and pushing his hand away with a ferocity you didn't know you still had, not since the Squid Games.

“A reminder? What makes you think I want to remember that shit?” You raise your voice; something to make up for how small you feel, by the way you need to tilt your head to look him in the eye. “If I could erase that night from my memory for the rest of my life, I would.”

“I find that hard to believe. Would you erase our night together at the bar as well?” His eyes leave yours only to look back to the mirror behind you. “Look at you. Wearing those bruises so proudly.”

For a moment all you can do is stare at him, unable to believe the sheer audacity he has to stand in your house and say these things. The worst of it all is you can’t fully deny it – you picked the dress deliberately knowing it left the upper part of your back exposed, happy to catch glimpses of the bruises he left you with if you happened to stumble upon a mirror or reflective surface throughout the night.

“I would,” you insist. “What the fuck makes you think I’d want to remember the night that ruined my life?”

A laugh comes out of him; a short, but cruel sound. “I ruined your life, is that what you're saying?”

You scoff. “Don't act like you don't know you did.”

He steps even closer to you. You refuse to step back, even when it feels like his chest is about to bump into your forehead. “Your life,” he says, “was already shit way before I came around. Debt, an awful job, an even worse home, no future prospects, no friends. What exactly was there about your life that was good enough to be ruined?”

Rage consumes you to hear him talk like that about your old life. Things were bad, yes, but there was a positivity about you that's been lost ever since you stepped foot in those games. You could barely make ends meet, and your shifts were long and exhausting, but you had hopes of going to school, of turning your life around. Your home was a tiny, shitty house in an even shittier neighborhood, but you still took the effort to decorate it and try to make it feel more like a home. Where did that go? Now, you have all the money you could ever wish for, and all you do is spend it on clothes and expensive trips you don't even have the motivation to enjoy, your only goal being getting far away from Seoul.

“At least I felt like a fucking person! Do you even know what that’s like? Feeling human?” you all but yell, grateful for the language barrier in case any neighbors happen to be listening. “I’d never killed anyone. I’d never wanted to kill anyone! I didn't have nightmares, and I didn't wake up every day wondering if I deserve to be alive after everything I did to survive!”

“You had nothing,” he reminds you, his voice cold as the winter outside. “Not even your dignity. Or did you forget how we met? How you asked me to play ddakji with you, willing to get hit in the face repeatedly not for money, but just to have my attention?”

You hold back a sob, shaking your head furiously, but it's of no use. The words sting hard enough to bring tears to your eyes; it stings even more to know they're true. 

“Get out of my apartment,” you demand. You wish you'd never let him in. You wish you'd never met him at all.

“Things are different now,” he says, ignoring your order completely. “You’re rich, and you’ve matured. You’ll never struggle again in your life, if you're smart.”

“I said GET THE FUCK OUT!”

Finally at your breaking point, you push him, shoving at his chest as hard as you have the strength to. He barely budges. It's only then that you notice how cornered he’s got you, your back about to bump into the mirror.

He brings his hand towards your face, cupping your chin and forcing you to look higher up at him. You thrash and claw at his wrist, trying to push it away from you, but he only tightens his grip until it's almost painful. There’s a darkness in his eyes that’s unlike any expression you’ve ever seen on him.

“I made you stronger. You're a millionaire now because of me,” he says. “How about a little gratitude?”

Even from your position, you still manage an incredulous scoff at him. “Gratitude?”

“Yes.” A grin stretches the corner of his lips, not a trace of warmth of friendliness behind it. “You should be thankful I pulled you out of your misery.”

He moves faster than you’re ready to, grabbing you by the waist and tossing you down. You brace yourself for the impact of your head hitting the floor, gasping in surprise when your back bounces over the soft mattress instead. He hovers above you, using his heavier body to pin yours down before you even have the chance to start struggling against his grip.

“Get off me!”

“Calm down.” He holds both your wrists together with one hand, while the other manages to somehow pull your panties off your body, using your kicking legs as leverage. Your eyes widen in shock. “I’m just giving you another reminder.”

“W-what?” Your voice wavers with fear. All that fury is slowly but surely being replaced with it, or with a mixture of both feelings that leaves you heaving for breath.

He doesn't have to pull your dress up – your own struggle does it by itself, leaving the fabric rumpled up at your hips and your bottom exposed. You stop kicking him in an attempt to cover yourself, and he takes advantage of that fraction of a second to stick his knee on the spot on the mattress between your legs, stopping you from shutting them. You gasp, the heavy pressure on your core cutting off all your thoughts for a moment. You can think of nothing to do other than to yell for help.

As if reading your thoughts, his free hand covers your mouth.

You voice your displeasure through a muffled grunt. You keep on struggling, trying to kick him off you, but each movement unintentionally rubs your bare clit over his thigh that pins you down. He applies even more pressure and you cry out, mortified to feel heat pooling between your legs.

“Christ, you're wet. I can feel it.”

You can feel it too, the fabric of his pants damp and hot where it connects with you. You're torn on whether to keep fighting and essentially humping his leg or giving up, if only to have a few instants of relief.

“If you scream, I’ll slit your throat,” he warns in a hoarse whisper. “Do you understand?”

Out of options, you nod.

He releases your mouth, then your wrists. It occurs to you to scream anyway, but you force yourself to remember who you're dealing with. He wouldn’t give you empty threats. Anyone involved in bringing people into those games has no qualms about slitting your throat open and leaving you to bleed out on your silk sheets.

The Salesman makes his way down your body, now holding onto your legs with his hands.

“What the fuck are you doing?” you manage to ask, the answer rather obvious but it had all happened so fast, leaving you dazed and confused.

“Giving you yet another reason to be thankful to me.”

The sudden, damp feel of his tongue on your entrance overcomes your senses, and you wouldn't be able to hold back a shout if you tried.

Fortunately, he forgives you for it. You squirm under the sensations, but he holds your hips down against the mattress in a firm grip, immobilizing them completely and prying you open all at once. You hoist yourself up over your elbows only to be met with your own reflection on the mirror across the room, your hair a mess already and your face contorted in fear and pleasure and indignation all at once. You can’t bear to watch yourself like this, mortification entrenched into every muscle of your body that reacts to his touch as he continues to penetrate you with his tongue. You fall back towards the mattress with a broken moan.

“God– Y-you can’t–” Whatever you were about to say dies out in your throat as his lips rise to your clit, enveloping you so expertly in the wet heat of his mouth. You clench your whole body, eyelids all the way down to your toes, and for a moment you’re grateful for the hands that hold your legs open just so you don’t have to face the shame of spreading them wider.

Your hands, perfectly capable of putting up a fight once they’d been released, twist into the sheets beneath you, holding on like your life depends on it. You curse yourself for not trying harder to push him off, for not really wanting to; for always being so unwilling to say no to him. Moans leave your lips like they’re being ripped out of you, growing in volume like you just can’t help it. It makes you wish one of the pillows were within reach so you could bury it against your face and muffle them, or simply to hide yourself from how incredibly good it feels to be at his mercy.

It doesn’t take long at all. Say whatever you want about the Salesman, but this is a man who knows what he’s doing with his tongue. In only a few minutes he reduces you to whimpers and pleading, your orgasm hitting you like a wave crashing full-force over the shore. Your back arches off the bed, mouth open in a long moan, and he continues to dine on you like a starving man until the moment you fall backwards, spent.

When you come back to yourself, you’re covering your face with your hands as he presses kisses to the line of your inner thigh. You feel him make his way up your body, feel his hands on your wrists, gently moving them out of the way and exposing your face, the deep flush that has colored your cheeks.

Looking into his eyes, you’re overcome with a rush of emotions you’re not sure how to name. How can a person make you feel so many things at once? How can you still want him – ardently, desperately, profoundly want him – after everything? How can he be so addictive, leaving you already hooked from the scraps of attention he’s given you? You tilt your head just a tiny bit towards him, a silent invitation, and he leans in the rest of the way to take your lips in his.

He kisses you deeply, hungrily, holding you through the shudders that run through your body from the aftershocks of your orgasm until they subside. Kisses you like you’re more than just a hookup, tempting you to believe there must be something about you that’s special. Kisses you for long enough to get you drunk in it, like he’s happy to do nothing but this for the rest of his life.

The next time he pulls back, he removes his suit jacket and tie. You somehow manage to help him unbutton his white shirt, motivated by the promise of feeling his bare skin on yours. You nearly forget his pants are still on, letting him work on that as you press kisses to down his neck. Of course his body is as perfect as his face. He makes an approving sound that you can feel on his throat, and you follow the vibrations of his vocal chords until his pulse point, pleased to find his heartbeats as fast as yours. You can’t resist taking the skin there between your teeth.

He growls, hands tightening on your hips and flipping you on the bed so you’re facing the other side, your back to him. You hold onto the bed frame to steady yourself, body half-bent forward.

You expect him to thrust into you without warning, just as he had the last time. Before that, he brings a hand underneath your chin, tilting your head upwards, your sight landing squarely on your joined reflection on the mirror.

“Keep your eyes right there.” Now he enters you, and you watch your eyes widen at the sudden intrusion. “Watch yourself get fucked on my cock.”

The sheer filth in his voice prompts you to obey, to look. Your knuckles turn white on the bedframe and your body rocks forward with each of his thrusts; slow at first, but steadily gaining power and speed. He reaches down to rub your clit in circles, and it makes your body jerk to feel it and see it at the same time, to watch your reactions in real time. The sight of the necklace still hanging from your neck prompts you to look away, a confirmation of what’s actually happening to you that you’re not prepared to stare in the face.

His hand leaves your clit to wrap itself into your hair, yanking it back. Your body arches to follow it, your reflection on the glass confronting you once again.

“I said look,” he says into your ear. “Don’t you wanna see what a pretty mess you are for me?”

You shake your head, although his death grip on your hair makes it difficult to move. That’s precisely the issue: seeing the mess that he made you into, seeing yourself so overwhelmed and dirty and ashamed, the sounds leaving you suggesting nothing other than aching, raw need. It’s too much. It doesn’t stop you from pushing your hips back to meet his, trying to match his rhythm. 

He angles his thrusts to hit a spot inside of you that makes you see stars. “Oh God,” you croak, feeling the heaviness of tears behind your eyes and another orgasm fast approaching.

Just when you’re close, impossibly close to your release, he stops. You watch him on the mirror, panting just for a moment before he pulls out of you and releases your hair. You’re about to protest, or maybe plead for mercy, but he pushes you to lay on your back on the bed again, back inside of you before you can even think of a sentence.

“How about that thank you now?” He pounds into you, somehow even deeper from this position.  “Say it.”

“Shut up,” you say instead. The pause, brief as it was, only served to make you more desperate to come, and the last thing you need right now is to hear this. “Please just shut up.”

The necklace gleams over your chest, catching his attention. The Salesman runs a thumb over the sapphire, as if contemplating something, before he presses down on the pendant hard, digging it into your skin.

You gasp, throwing your head back. He’s moving fast enough that the bed rocks underneath you, the headboard slamming into the wall, his fingers still on the necklace like he wants to imprint it into your chest. It fucking hurts, the sharp metal edges unrelenting, digging in hard enough to leave a bruise. It makes your body sing, awakes the deeply-hidden, fucked up parts of you that crave this kind of pain.

“Every time you wake up,” the Salesman says, slightly out of breath himself, but much more composed than you, “and you look out of the window and see Paris, or anywhere that’s not the gutter in Seoul, you thank me for saving you.” He punctuates his words with a particularly hard thrust. “Say it.”

You don’t want to say it. Saying it makes you feel like it’s true, like you should give in and believe what he’s saying. That you are a piece of trash who got lucky, after all, and you should thank him for anything close to success that you achieve from now on. But your orgasm is so close you can feel the force of it numb your ears, your wrists; and in this moment, you would say anything, do anything, so long as he keeps you feeling this good.

“Thank you,” the words are just barely above a whisper, like you wish you could keep them to yourself as a shameful secret.

“For what?”

He gives you another hard thrust, almost painful if only the lines between pain and pleasure hadn’t been blurred a long time ago. You push your chest into an arch, the pendant digging even deeper into you until it breaks skin and the pain turns into agony.

“F-for saving me.”

“Good girl.”

You come then, thinking about the mark that the necklace will leave on you, thinking about how you’re going to feel it for days, how you’re going to remember it every time you feel it or see it. That there will be evidence on your body that he touched you this passionately. It feels like you’re floating, rising to the sky as you clench and unclench around him, as sound after humiliating sound leaves you.

You collapse back against the mattress when your orgasm finally lets you go, boneless and spent. You didn’t see or hear him come – in another situation, it might’ve upset you to miss it, if you weren’t still riding the aftershocks of that incredible high –, but he’s still against you, breathing hard into your neck. His release leaks from between your legs. He stays like that for a long time, slowly softening inside of you, before he finally pulls out and away from you.

You stay right where you are, unmoving. Somewhere far away, you think you can hear him searching for his clothes and dressing himself. You don’t want it to upset you, but it does; because of course he would come here, humiliate you, give you the best fuck of your life and then immediately leave, without so much as a word to you. Your head falls to the side, and even that small movement feels incredibly difficult, like your entire body is a limb that has fallen asleep. Your vision is blurry, far-away, until it finally focuses on the large window that overlooks the city. Tiny snowflakes flutter over the city lights and the dark night sky.

“It’s snowing.”

That pulls his attention to you. He’s got his pants and shirt on, the first few buttons undone, his once perfectly-styled hair a mess. He follows the line of your gaze to the window. “Were you looking forward to it?” he asks.

“Yeah.” It feels like forever ago since the last time you even thought about it. The Salesman was right; the city is beautiful at this time of the year.

You expect him to return to his clothes then head out the door. Instead, he reaches for the covers over the bed and wraps your naked body up in them like a baby. “Ow,” you hiss when he moves you, pain exploding on your chest where the necklace was pressed against you. A few drops of blood dry on your skin from when the skin had split. You feel the Salesman lift you bridal-style, much to your surprise, but you’re still too dazed to find it in you to question it.

He sits you both on the thick windowsill, him behind you and you leaning against his chest, framed by his legs. It’s gentle, somehow more intimate than you’ve ever been with him even after sleeping with him twice. You watch the snowfall outside, mesmerized, letting the steady rise-and-fall of his chest behind you soothe your aching muscles.

It’s the closest to safe you’ve felt in what feels like forever, and you’re crying before you even realize it.

Once it starts, it’s impossible to stop it. Your body trembles with the force of your sobs, tears flowing from your eyes like they haven’t since you were a little kid, at least not this openly. He wraps his arms around you from behind, pulling you flush against himself and pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“It’s okay,” he whispers, keeping his lips right there against your scalp. He rocks you ever so slightly, shushing your cries, the sound as soothing as a soft lullaby. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” you sob. You think about the snow in Seoul, about how the first snowfall always made you excited, even when it happened every year. You can feel your tears rolling down your cheeks and into your neck, your collarbones. “I want to go home.”

“Then go home,” he says, like it’s simple.

“I can’t.” How can you walk the same streets you always did, as if your life wasn’t completely changed? As if the price you paid for this change wasn’t much, much greater than you could deal with? “You’re right. I have nothing. No one.”

“You had nothing. You can have anything you want now.” You want to tell him there are things money can’t buy, but you’re so tired, so exhausted. You can’t muster the willpower for much other than wallowing in your own misery, weeping in his arms like a child. “And you have me.”

That only makes you cry harder, shaking your head. “Don’t say shit you don’t mean.”

“Look at me.” He nudges you to turn to him, the angle awkward but it’s so worth it the second he cups your face in both hands, brushing your tears away with his thumbs. “I mean it. Come back to Seoul.” He kisses the corner of your mouth, then your heavy eyelids. “You just need to see things from a different perspective. I can help you.”

He coaxes you to lay back against him, and you do so without protest, burying your face into his chest. For a moment you actually consider it. Dropping the plans you had for a next trip and following him to Seoul, letting him finish corrupting you with whatever twisted worldview he has. Maybe it would be blissful, you think, to see all that violence and bloodshed as a blessing, as something that saved you rather than ruined you. It has to be a trap, or another one of his games. But it doesn’t hurt to dream about it, just a little bit.

Little by little your crying subsides, your breaths returning to normal. He holds you through it all, stroking your hair in a way that’s so tender, so soft, like you’re fragile. Like he cares about you, or even loves you.

You silently wonder if he can love anyone at all, much less someone as broken as you.

With his fingers drawing circles on your scalp, you drift off into a dreamless sleep.

–––

You wake up alone. You’re still naked but on the bed, tucked into your blankets. There’s no confusion over what happened last night, no delusions that your brain would come up with a dream like that. There’s only memories hitting you like a truck, one after the other, and it’s too fucking early for this.

You pull yourself into a sitting position, and you jump at the sight of yourself on the mirror. You barely notice the smudged makeup from last night, your eyes going straight to the star of the show: the angry red spot right on the center of your chest, already turning into a deep purple at the center. You flinch before you even touch it, your hand hanging in the air halfway through like you’ve changed your mind. The necklace finishes it off like the cherry on top of the cake, the pair of precious stones right next to each other like eyes watching you, mocking you.

You button your coat all the way up before you leave the house.

It’s still early enough that the sun has just begun rising, coloring the sky in a bright blue that bleeds into the buildings and streets. There’s probably nothing open right now, but you could really use some coffee. Or a drink. Probably a drink.

You find him at Pont Neuf, watching the river below. There’s no one else around, the city in a rare moment of quiet and peace. He hasn’t spotted you yet, seemingly lost in thought, and it occurs to you that you could sneak up behind him, push him over the edge and just keep on walking. Sever your ties to him forever, and simply keep going like nothing ever happened, bury it along with all the other memories you try so hard to forget.

You don’t do it, but knowing you could brings you a bit of comfort. You lower your head and keep walking in the opposite direction, not sparing him another glance.

[emeraldlabyrinth]

Well if you feel like you need a good cry, a harsh reminder that there are wonderful people in the world and not-so-wonderful people, or you want to follow your passion but do not feel like it will not contribute enough to help anyone. This non-fiction book might interest you its name is The Symphony for the City of the Dead by M.T. Anderson. It is a history book but it is written so well I had to double check what I was once. It is definitely life-changing.

If you feel like you have been in living in a hole of despair and desperately need some hope. The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett has got you covered.

I will also recommend On Fortune's Wheel by Cynthia Voigt. It shows you what happens when you make rash decisions and do not bother having proper communication with friends and family. It is also a pain reliever if you have read too many modern books.

And if you feel like this is not enough you can try Flow by Mihaly or Who Wrote the Bible by Richard Elliot Friedman.

desperately need to read or watch something that will alter my brain chemistry and turn me into a new person

[chxnsgirl]

현진 ─── the night we met

♡ pairing ៸៸ fratboy!hyunjin x afab!reader genre ៸៸ fluff, angst(ish) ៸៸ cw ៸៸ college!au , mentions of roofies (one is slipped but not consumed) , jake is a meanie (not enha jake, an oc) ♡ synopsis ៸៸ your friends drag you to a frat party. little did you know, you'd make a new friend that night. [ 7.4k words ] a/n ๑ i hope u guys like this , i started writing this after hyunies buzz cut but never got around to finish the first part. there WILL be a part two. ♡ masterlist

ordinarily, parties like this wouldn’t even cross your radar. but tonight was different, thanks to your friends, karina and yuqi, who had practically dragged you out of your cozy dorm. if it were up to you, you’d be holed up with your textbooks, preparing for midterms. instead, you found yourself being strong-armed into attending zeta nu’s pre-winter break bash. they were adamant about going, and equally adamant that you come along. why? you couldn’t fathom. it wasn’t like they didn’t know you were a die-hard introvert. you weren’t exactly a sparkling conversationalist, especially with your anxiety making it nearly impossible to hold a conversation for more than a few minutes. and when it came to talking to guys? forget it—it was a whole new level of nerve-wracking.

this party wasn’t just intimidating because of the social setting; it was who was hosting it. zeta nu wasn’t just any fraternity—it was the fraternity, packed with campus heartthrobs. you’d always had a tendency to lump frat guys into one category: loud, shallow, and hopelessly clueless. and while some of the zeta nu brothers certainly lived up to the stereotype, there were a few you’d noticed around campus who seemed to have some semblance of normalcy. still, the thought of mingling in a house full of them made your stomach churn.

despite your reluctance, you did put some effort into your appearance. you weren’t about to freeze to death in a paper-thin dress like some partygoers. instead, you opted for practicality without sacrificing style: a snug black sweater, thermal tights, and a cute black skirt. it wasn’t extravagant, but it was warm and cute—perfect for braving both the cold and your nerves.

the party was as stereotypical as they come—music blared through the house, its bass vibrating the walls, while couples made out or grinded on each other in dimly lit corners. the kitchen was no exception to the chaos, packed with people eager to fill their cups with whatever concoction was closest at hand. you weren’t sure whether it was a blessing or a curse, but your friends had already vanished into the crowd. karina and yuqi were likely off flirting with frat members or losing themselves on the dance floor—activities you had no interest in partaking in tonight.

left to your own devices, you made your way into the kitchen, thinking that maybe a drink could help calm your nerves. standing in front of the counter, you eyed the variety of liquor bottles scattered across it. vodka, whiskey, rum—it was all there, unopened and glaringly intimidating. after a moment of hesitation, you sidestepped past a couple making out aggressively against the cupboards and found your way to the punch bowls.

pouring yourself only the bare minimum, you sipped cautiously. you didn’t want to overdo it—just enough to take the edge off the knot of anxiety that had been sitting in your chest since you walked through the door. cup in hand, you lingered near the wall, keeping to yourself while observing the crowd. occasionally, you nodded your head in rhythm to the music, trying your best to blend in.

a sudden wave of cheers and hollering erupted near the kitchen entrance, drawing your attention. your curiosity got the better of you, and you glanced over to see what all the commotion was about. and there he was.

hyunjin.

the heartthrob of the campus strode into the room with effortless confidence, his presence magnetic. nearly every girl at school had some kind of infatuation with him, and it wasn’t hard to see why. he was tall, his honey-toned skin glowing under the dim lights. his features were impossibly striking—full lips, a perfectly sculpted nose, and eyes that seemed to hold an entire galaxy. you’d always thought he was stunning, but the recent buzz cut he’d gotten made him look even better. the new hairstyle, lighter in color, somehow emphasized his sharp features and perfectly complemented his skin tone.

“how are you late to your own party?” felix, one of the frat members, called out to him with a laugh.

“had something to take care of,” hyunjin replied vaguely, his voice carrying effortlessly over the noise as he made his way to the kitchen island where the liquor bottles were displayed.

as the frat guys gathered around him to take shots, the kitchen grew even more crowded. someone jostled you, and you stumbled, bumping into a girl who looked far too drunk to be standing upright. she turned her bleary but sharp gaze toward you, her expression immediately souring.

“watch it,” she hissed, her tone dripping with disdain as her eyes gave you a once-over. she lingered on you for a moment longer, clearly unimpressed, before staggering off toward the living room without another word.

you sighed, shrinking back toward the corner, feeling as out of place as ever. the night wasn’t going as planned—not that you’d had much of a plan to begin with.

the confrontation with the girl must’ve thrown you off more than you realized because, for a while, the world around you faded into a dull hum. it wasn’t until a sharp whistle cut through the noise that you even blinked, but even that barely registered. a light tap on your shoulder, however, finally brought you back to reality.

you turned, lifting your gaze from the floor to the person standing behind you. he was tall, with tousled blonde hair and piercing blue eyes that sparkled in the dim kitchen light. his smile was easy, almost disarming, and there was a casual confidence about the way he stood.

“hey,” he started, his eyes flicking over you briefly, though not in a way that felt invasive. “are you okay?”

you blinked at him, fumbling for words. “no, um, yeah—i’m okay. thanks,” you stammered, your fingers tightening nervously around the cup in your hands.

he chuckled softly, clearly amused by your flustered state. “i’m jake,” he said, gesturing broadly to the space around him. “i’m in zeta nu.”

“y/n,” you managed to reply, your voice a little steadier now. but as the conversation unfolded, a wave of anxiety washed over you, making you hyperaware of every little movement. your hands suddenly felt awkward, like you didn’t know where to put them or what to do with them. jake seemed to pick up on your nervous energy and smiled, a warm, easy expression that somehow put you slightly at ease.

“what’re you drinking?” he asked, leaning slightly to peek into your red solo cup.

you gave a soft laugh, shaking your head as you held up the cup. “just some punch from over there,” you said, nodding toward the bowl on the counter.

jake raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking into a playful grin. “punch? nah, you need something stronger. look at you—your shoulders are practically glued to your ears.” he stepped past you with a light chuckle, weaving through a cluster of his frat brothers to grab a bottle of tito’s from the counter.

he unscrewed the cap and held the bottle up, giving you a questioning look. “what do you say?”

your heart thudded nervously in your chest, but you found yourself nodding. “um, sure.” you extended your cup with a slightly shaky hand, watching as he poured a generous splash of vodka into the punch.

“thanks,” you muttered, glancing down at the cup, as though measuring the alcohol now mixed in.

“go on, down the hatch,” jake said with a playful nudge, raising his own cup to his lips. his smirk was small but somehow endearing, his eyes watching you expectantly.

you hesitated, the tangy smell of alcohol wafting up to you as you brought the cup to your lips. taking a tentative sip, you winced at the sharp burn that clawed its way down your throat. the sensation settled in your stomach, leaving a faint warmth in its wake.

“atta girl,” jake teased, grinning at your reaction.

you gave him a shy smile in return, bringing the cup to your lips for another sip. the taste wasn’t any better the second time, but at least it wasn’t as much of a shock.

“careful,” jake warned, his voice light but genuine. “you don’t wanna drink too fast. trust me on that.”

as the night went on and the alcohol loosened your inhibitions, you found yourself growing more comfortable around jake. the two of you had been chatting and laughing, the drink in your hand slowly dwindling with each passing minute. what you didn’t notice, however, was the pair of sharp eyes watching you from across the room.

hyunjin leaned casually against the doorway to the kitchen, but his posture was deceptive—his focus was entirely on you. the noise and chatter around him had faded into the background as he observed you, a flicker of intrigue glinting in his dark eyes. you were new, unfamiliar, and that alone made you stand out in a sea of familiar faces.

but it wasn’t just curiosity that held his attention—it was something else. something more protective.

he noticed the way jake hovered close to you, his body language bordering on possessive. hyunjin’s jaw tightened, a subtle but telling sign of his unease. jake was a name he knew all too well, and not in a good way. the guy had a reputation within the frat, one hyunjin wasn’t particularly proud of. jake’s charm was surface-deep, and his intentions were rarely anything but self-serving.

hyunjin stayed where he was, his gaze unwavering as he silently kept an eye on the two of you. he didn’t want to overstep or cause unnecessary drama, but the uneasy feeling in his gut wouldn’t go away. something about the way jake interacted with you felt off, like he was toeing the line of what was acceptable.

then it happened.

hyunjin’s stomach sank as he caught it—jake’s hand moving swiftly, almost imperceptibly, toward your cup. you were turned away, laughing at something one of jake’s friends had said, completely oblivious to what had just occurred. hyunjin’s eyes narrowed as he saw jake slip something into your drink, the motion so practiced it was clear this wasn’t his first time.

a surge of anger flared in hyunjin’s chest, hot and immediate. his hands clenched into fists at his sides as he fought the urge to storm across the room and confront jake then and there. but causing a scene would only make things worse, and he knew it.

all he could think about was getting to you before you took another sip.

hyunjin pushed off the doorway, his heart pounding with urgency. he moved through the crowd, his strides purposeful but controlled. every second felt agonizingly slow, the distance between him and you somehow stretching endlessly. as he approached, his mind raced with how he’d handle the situation. should he confront jake directly? should he quietly pull you aside?

you were still laughing, entirely unaware of the danger sitting innocently in your cup. jake had leaned closer to you now, his easygoing smile masking his true intentions. hyunjin’s anger bubbled closer to the surface as he reached you, his gaze darting to your cup and back to jake.

“hey,” hyunjin called out, his voice calm but firm enough to break through the chatter around you.

you turned toward him, startled. for a moment, you were struck by how impossibly handsome he was, his sharp features softened slightly by the concern in his eyes.

“oh, hi,” you said, blinking in surprise. “do i know you?”

“we’ve never met,” hyunjin replied, his tone steady despite the storm brewing inside him. his eyes flickered briefly to jake, who tensed but tried to play it cool. “can i talk to you for a second? alone?”

jake frowned, his posture shifting defensively. “what’s up, man? we’re in the middle of a conversation here.”

hyunjin’s gaze didn’t waver, locking onto jake with quiet intensity. “it’s important,” he said, his voice low but resolute.

you hesitated, glancing between the two of them. something about the seriousness in hyunjin’s expression made you uneasy, though not in the same way jake did. it was protective, not predatory.

“uh, sure,” you finally said, your curiosity outweighing your reluctance.

hyunjin gently guided you a few steps away, his hand lightly brushing your elbow. once you were out of earshot, he glanced at the drink in your hand.

“don’t drink that,” he said, his voice quiet but firm.

your brow furrowed in confusion. “why not?”

he hesitated, clearly wrestling with how much to tell you. “i saw jake put something in it,” he finally admitted, his tone laced with barely restrained anger.

the words hit you like a truck, your stomach dropping. you stared at him, trying to process what he’d just said. “what? are you sure?”

hyunjin nodded, his expression grim. “i wouldn’t say this if i wasn’t sure. please, just trust me.” 

before you could fully process hyunjin’s words, jake appeared beside you, his easy smile now tinged with suspicion.

“everything okay here?” jake asked, his tone light but his eyes sharp as they flicked between you and hyunjin.

hyunjin didn’t back down. his posture straightened, his sharp jaw tightening as he turned to face jake fully. “not really,” he said evenly, his voice steady but carrying an edge that made it clear he wasn’t in the mood for games.

jake’s brows furrowed, a feigned look of confusion crossing his face. “what’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, forcing a laugh as if to brush off the tension.

“it means i saw what you did,” hyunjin replied, his dark eyes fixed on jake with a piercing intensity.

you froze, your heart pounding as you realized the confrontation was unfolding right in front of you. the party noises around you seemed to fade as your focus honed in on the two men.

jake’s expression shifted, his smile dropping for a fraction of a second before he recovered. “i have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said, his voice carefully measured.

hyunjin scoffed, his calm exterior beginning to crack as anger seeped into his words. “don’t play dumb, jake. i saw you put something in her drink. you think no one noticed, but i did.”

a wave of shock and fear surged through you as you clutched your cup tightly. you looked down at the liquid, bile rising in your throat at the thought of what could have happened.

jake’s facade faltered, his eyes narrowing. “you’ve got some nerve, man,” he said, stepping closer to hyunjin. “accusing me of something like that? do you have any proof?”

hyunjin didn’t flinch, his voice unwavering as he retorted, “i don’t need proof to know what i saw. and i don’t need it to stop you.”

the tension between them was palpable, drawing the attention of a few people nearby. whispers started to ripple through the crowd as partygoers noticed the confrontation.

jake glanced around, clearly aware that the situation was drawing unwanted attention. his expression darkened, and he leaned closer to hyunjin, lowering his voice. “you don’t want to make this a bigger deal than it needs to be,” he said, his tone dripping with thinly veiled aggression.

hyunjin stepped forward, closing the distance between them. his voice dropped, but it carried the weight of barely contained fury. “the only person making this a big deal is you, jake. whatever you thought you’d get away with tonight isn’t happening.”

jake sneered, his composure finally slipping. “you don’t even know her,” he hissed. “why do you care so much?”

hyunjin’s jaw tightened, and his response was immediate. “because what you did is disgusting. and i don’t care if i just met her or if i’ve known her my whole life—what’s right is right.”

you watched the exchange, your chest tightening as the gravity of the situation hit you. hyunjin’s words struck something deep inside you, and for the first time that night, you felt a sliver of safety amidst the chaos.

before things could escalate further, another voice broke through the tension. “what the hell is going on here?”

felix, had appeared, his face a mixture of confusion and concern. he glanced between hyunjin, jake, and you, clearly trying to piece together what was happening.

hyunjin turned to felix, his expression firm but calm. “jake spiked her drink,” he said without hesitation.

felix’s eyes widened, and his gaze snapped to jake. “is that true?”

jake’s face twisted, his confidence slipping as he realized he was outnumbered. “no! he’s making shit up!” jake exclaimed, his voice rising defensively.

felix’s expression hardened, and he looked at you. “did you drink it?” he asked, his tone serious.

you shook your head, your voice shaky as you finally spoke. “no... not yet. hyunjin stopped me.”

felix let out a relieved sigh, then turned to jake with a glare. “if this is true, you’re done here, jake. we don’t do that shit.”

jake’s defensive posture shifted, his bravado cracking under the weight of felix’s accusation and the judgmental stares of the other frat members who were now gathering around. “this is bullshit,” jake spat, his voice rising. “he’s lying. i didn’t do anything.”

felix’s gaze remained on jakes for a few minutes, before he finally came to a decision and spoke up. “jake’s done here. we’ll handle this.”

the other frat members murmured their agreement, some shooting jake disgusted looks. felix stepped closer to jake, lowering his voice but keeping his tone firm. “leave now. we’ll be reporting this, and if you show your face here again, you’ll regret it.”

jake glared at hyunjin one last time, his lips curling into a sneer. “you think you’re a hero, huh?” he hissed, but the words lacked their usual bite. without waiting for a response, he shoved past the crowd and stormed out of the kitchen, his retreat drawing murmurs from the partygoers who had witnessed the scene.

felix sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. he turned to you, his expression softening. “are you okay?”

you nodded, though your hands still trembled as you clutched your cup. “yeah… thanks to him,” you said, glancing at hyunjin.

felix offered hyunjin a grateful nod. “let me take that from you.” felix gestured to the cup that was still in your hand. you handed him the cup, happy to get rid of it. “thanks.”

hyunjin didn’t respond immediately, his focus still on you. “you shouldn’t be here,” he said gently, his voice much softer now. “let me get you out of this place.”

you hesitated, glancing toward the living room where the party was still in full swing. the idea of leaving felt like relief, a way to escape the chaos and process what had just happened. 

“o-okay,” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper.

hyunjin offered a reassuring smile. “come on.”

he guided you carefully through the crowd, his hand hovering near your lower back without actually touching you, giving you space but also silently signaling he was there if you needed him. the cold night air hit you like a wake-up call as you stepped outside, the muffled bass of the party fading into the background.

“do you want to sit for a minute?” hyunjin asked, nodding toward a quiet bench near the edge of the yard.

you nodded, letting him lead the way. the two of you sat down, the crisp air biting at your skin. for a moment, neither of you spoke, the events of the night hanging heavily between you.

“thank you,” you finally said, your voice trembling slightly. “i don’t even know what to say. if you hadn’t been there…”

hyunjin shook his head, his expression serious. “you don’t have to thank me. i just did what anyone decent would do.”

you looked at him, taking in his earnestness, the way his dark eyes held a mixture of concern and kindness. “not everyone would’ve stepped in like you did.” you murmured. 

hyunjin offered a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “i’m just glad you’re okay.”

the silence between you wasn’t awkward—it was comforting, a shared moment of calm after the storm. you found yourself relaxing for the first time all night, the tension in your shoulders easing under his quiet presence.

“can i walk you home?” he asked after a moment, breaking the silence. “just to make sure you’re safe.”

you hesitated, then nodded. “yeah… i’d like that.”

as the two of you walked away from the party, side by side under the glow of the streetlights, you felt a strange sense of gratitude—not just for what he’d done, but for him. there was something about hyunjin that made you feel seen, protected.

hyunjin glanced over at you, his expression thoughtful. “you don’t seem like the kind of person who goes to frat parties often.”

you let out a soft laugh, still a little shaky but genuine. “that obvious, huh?”

he smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “a little. you looked like you’d rather be anywhere else.”

“because i would’ve,” you admitted, clutching your coat tighter against the cold. “my friends dragged me there. they thought it would be good for me to ‘get out more.’” you air-quoted the phrase, rolling your eyes playfully.

hyunjin chuckled, his warm laughter cutting through the chilly air. “guess they didn’t expect you to almost need rescuing, huh?”

“yeah, not exactly what i had in mind when they said ‘fun night out,’” you replied, shaking your head. “what about you? you don’t seem like the typical frat guy either.”

hyunjin shrugged, tucking his hands into the pockets of his coat. "well, you know what they say— book, cover." he said with a playful grin. "truth is, i’m not really into parties either. felix just likes having me around, so i showed up."

“and ended up saving someone from disaster,” you said with a small smile.

he smirked, tilting his head as he looked at you. “not the way i thought my night would go, but i’m glad i was there.”

you walked in silence for a moment, the rhythm of your steps syncing.

“so, what do you usually do when you’re not being dragged to parties?” he asked, genuine curiosity in his tone.

“studying, mostly,” you admitted. “i’m kind of a nerd. i like staying in and reading or watching movies. parties aren’t really my scene.”

“books and movies sound way better than parties,” hyunjin said, nodding in agreement. “what do you study?”

“english literature,” you said, feeling a little more at ease. “i’ve always loved stories—reading them, writing them, analyzing them. it’s like stepping into another world.”

hyunjin’s eyes lit up. “that’s cool. i’ve always thought literature was beautiful, even if i’m not great at it. i’m more of an art guy.”

your interest piqued. “art? like painting and drawing?”

he nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. “yeah. i’ve been drawing since i was a kid. it’s how i make sense of things, i guess. and painting—it’s like therapy for me.”

“that’s amazing,” you said sincerely. “i wish i could draw, but i can barely make a stick figure look decent.”

hyunjin laughed, a soft, melodic sound that made you smile. “it’s not about being perfect. it’s about expressing yourself. stick figures count too, you know.”

you grinned, feeling warmth bloom in your chest despite the cold. “maybe i’ll have to give it another shot sometime.”

“you should,” he said, his voice encouraging. “i could even show you some basics if you want.”

your eyes widened slightly. “you’d do that?”

“of course,” he replied with a shrug. “you might surprise yourself.”

the conversation flowed easily as you walked, each step bringing a new layer of comfort. hyunjin shared stories about how he found inspiration in the smallest things—sunsets, the way light reflected off a window, even the texture of tree bark. you told him about your favorite books and how certain characters felt like old friends.

by the time you reached your dorm building, the unease of the night had melted away, replaced by a quiet warmth.

“this is me,” you said, gesturing to the door.

hyunjin nodded, stopping a few steps away. “well, i’m glad you’re home safe.”

“thanks to you,” you said softly, meeting his gaze. “i really mean it. thank you, hyunjin.”

his smile was gentle, his eyes holding yours for a moment longer than necessary. “you’re welcome. get some rest, okay?”

you nodded, hesitating before heading toward the door. something about him made you linger, a pull you couldn’t quite explain.

“hyunjin?” you called, turning back.

hyunjin paused mid-step, turning back to you with a curious tilt of his head. "yeah?"

you bit your lip, debating for a moment before gathering the courage to speak. “i know it’s late, but… would you want to come in for a bit? i mean, you did save me tonight. it’s the least i can do—offer you some tea or something.”

his brows lifted slightly in surprise, but his smile quickly returned, soft and genuine. “tea sounds nice,” he said, stepping back toward you. “if you’re sure i’m not intruding.”

“you’re not,” you reassured him. “i’d actually like the company.”

with that, you unlocked the door and led him inside. the quiet hum of the building greeted you, a stark contrast to the chaotic energy of the party you’d left behind. your dorm was small but cozy, with a few personal touches—books stacked on a small shelf, a throw blanket draped over a chair, and fairy lights strung across the walls casting a warm glow.

hyunjin took it all in with an appreciative glance. “this is nice,” he said, his voice low as if not to disturb the peaceful atmosphere. “seems very you.”

“thanks,” you replied, setting your coat aside and motioning for him to do the same. “make yourself comfortable. i’ll get the tea.”

as you moved to the kitchenette, hyunjin wandered over to your bookshelf, scanning the titles. “you weren’t kidding about loving books,” he said with a small laugh, pulling one off the shelf. “this one’s a classic,” he added, holding it up.

you glanced over your shoulder, smiling. “pride and prejudice. it’s one of my favorites.”

“really?” he flipped through a few pages, his expression thoughtful. “i’ve always wanted to read it but never got around to it. maybe you can tell me why you love it so much.”

you returned with two steaming mugs, setting them down on the small coffee table. “it’s the characters,” you explained as you sat down, motioning for him to join you. “elizabeth bennet is so strong and smart, and mr. darcy... well, he’s misunderstood at first, but he has a lot of depth. it’s about how they grow and learn to see each other differently.”

hyunjin sat across from you, cradling his mug as he listened intently. “that sounds... kind of beautiful,” he said after a moment. “i think i’d like it.”

“i could lend it to you if you want,” you offered.

his smile widened, his gaze meeting yours. “i’d like that.”

the conversation drifted from books to art again, and you found yourself captivated by the way hyunjin spoke about his creative process. he described the way he saw the world in vivid colors and shapes, how even the most mundane objects could inspire a new piece.

“you must have an amazing sketchbook,” you said, leaning forward with interest.

hyunjin chuckled, a hint of bashfulness coloring his tone. “i do, but it’s pretty messy. lots of half-finished ideas and random doodles. maybe i’ll show you someday.”

“i’d love that,” you replied softly.

time seemed to slow as the two of you continued talking, the earlier tension of the night now a distant memory. hyunjin’s presence was calming, his laughter infectious, and for the first time in a long while, you felt completely at ease.

eventually, the clock caught your attention, and you realized how late it had gotten.

“i didn’t mean to keep you so long,” you said apologetically. “you probably have things to do tomorrow.”

hyunjin shook his head, a playful grin tugging at his lips. “no complaints here. this was a lot better than that party.”

you smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you. “i’m glad.”

as he stood to leave, hyunjin turned back to you, his expression sincere. “thank you for inviting me in. tonight didn’t turn out how i expected, but... i think it turned out better.” 

you watched as hyunjin reached for the door. something about the way he spoke, the warmth in his voice, made your chest tighten. you didn’t want the moment to end—not yet.

“hyunjin, wait,” you called, taking a small step forward.

he paused immediately, his hand dropping from the doorknob. turning to face you, his brows raised slightly in curiosity. 

you hesitated, the words tangling in your throat. your heart was racing, but you didn’t want to overthink it this time. “i just… i don’t think i can thank you enough for what you did tonight. i don’t even want to think about how it could’ve gone if you hadn’t been there.”

hyunjin’s gaze softened, his expression melting into something both tender and reassuring. “you don’t need to thank me anymore. i was just doing what anyone should do.”

“but it wasn’t just anyone,” you replied quietly, stepping closer. “it was you.”

the space between you seemed to hum with unspoken emotions, the quiet hallway amplifying the sound of your heartbeat. hyunjin’s eyes held yours, and for a moment, you thought he might say something, but instead, he simply watched you, as though waiting for you to continue.

you took a deep breath, your voice trembling slightly. “i don’t think i’ve ever felt this safe around someone before. not like tonight.”

hyunjin’s lips parted slightly, as if to respond, but then he stopped. instead, he closed the remaining gap between you, his movements slow, deliberate. “i’m glad i could be that for you,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

your breath caught as his gaze flickered to your lips, then back to your eyes. the tension in the air was palpable now, a magnetic pull you couldn’t resist. without overthinking, you reached out, your fingers lightly brushing against the edge of his coat.

“hyunjin…” you murmured, leaning in just slightly.

he didn’t hesitate this time. gently, he cupped your cheek, his thumb grazing your skin as he leaned down, closing the space between you. his lips met yours softly, the kiss tentative at first, as though testing the waters.

the world seemed to fade away, the moment stretching into something timeless and fragile. his warmth enveloped you, his hand steady against your cheek as the other hovered near your arm, as if unsure where to go.

when you finally pulled back, your foreheads pressed together, your breaths mingling in the quiet. hyunjin’s eyes fluttered open, his cheeks dusted with the faintest hint of pink.

“that was…” he began, but words seemed to escape him. instead, a small, almost shy smile tugged at his lips.

“yeah,” you whispered, mirroring his smile.

for a moment, neither of you moved, the weight of the kiss lingering in the space between you. then hyunjin’s hand slipped from your cheek, his fingers brushing yours. “are you sure you’ll be okay tonight?” he asked, his voice gentle.

you nodded, the warmth of the moment still thrumming in your chest. “i think i’ll be more than okay.”

he smiled again, his eyes soft as they searched yours. “good. then… i’ll see you soon?”

“definitely,” you said, your voice filled with quiet certainty.

hyunjin lingered for another second before finally stepping back toward the door. as he left, you couldn’t help but touch your lips, a soft smile spreading across your face. tonight hadn’t turned out how you expected either—but in the best way possible.

a few days after the winter bash, you and hyunjin found yourselves texting constantly. the conversations were effortless, flowing from lighthearted banter to meaningful exchanges about your dreams and fears. he shared sketches of his art, and you sent him snippets of your writing, both of you encouraging and admiring each other's talents. despite the chaos of the party where you first connected, something special had grown between you.

when hyunjin invited you to visit the local art gallery before midterms, you eagerly agreed. it felt intimate, a shared space where he could reveal more of himself to you.

the gallery was quiet, with the low hum of classical music playing in the background. the soft glow of lights illuminated the vibrant and haunting pieces adorning the walls. hyunjin led you inside, his presence both calming and exhilarating.

“i come here a lot,” he admitted as you wandered past a series of abstract paintings. “it’s like stepping into another world. art makes sense to me in a way that words sometimes don’t.”

you smiled at the thought. “i get that. it’s how i feel about books. they’re a way to escape, to see things through someone else’s eyes.”

hyunjin stopped in front of a sprawling canvas painted in deep reds and golds, the colors swirling together like a storm. “this one’s my favorite,” he said softly. “it’s chaotic, but there’s beauty in the chaos. like... even in the mess, there’s something worth finding.”

you studied the painting, trying to see it the way he did. “it’s beautiful,” you murmured. “it kind of reminds me of you.”

he raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “me?”

“you’re so passionate,” you explained. “there’s this energy about you, like you see the world differently. it’s inspiring.”

hyunjin’s cheeks flushed slightly, and he looked away, smiling. “that’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

the moment felt perfect, like you were sharing something sacred. as you moved through the gallery, he pointed out more pieces, sharing their stories and what they meant to him. you hung on every word, feeling closer to him with each step.

but as the two of you stopped at a sculpture that seemed to twist and defy gravity, hyunjin’s phone buzzed in his pocket. he glanced at it briefly, his expression flickering with discomfort.

“everything okay?” you asked.

“yeah,” he said quickly, tucking his phone away. “just felix checking in.”

you didn’t push further, though something about his response left a faint unease in your chest.

the gallery’s warm light faded as you and hyunjin stepped into the brisk evening air, your breaths visible in the cold. the quiet hum of the city surrounded you, and the sharp chill seemed to heighten the glow of the night. hyunjin glanced at you, his hands tucked into the pockets of his coat, before motioning toward a nearby café with a soft smile.

“want to grab something warm?” he asked.

you nodded, the idea of a hot drink too tempting to resist. the two of you walked side by side, the air between you charged with a quiet camaraderie that felt both new and familiar.

inside the cozy café, the scent of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods wrapped around you like a comforting blanket. hyunjin ordered a coffee, and you opted for a hot chocolate. afterward, you found a bench outside, under the soft glow of a streetlamp, and settled down with your drinks.

as you sipped from your cup, savoring the rich, velvety warmth, you noticed hyunjin pulling a small sketchbook from his bag. he flipped it open and began drawing, his pencil gliding across the page with practiced ease.

“what are you working on?” you asked, leaning slightly toward him, curiosity piqued.

he hesitated, his lips curving into a small, shy smile before turning the notebook toward you. your breath hitched as you saw yourself staring back at you from the page. it was an uncanny likeness—your soft, thoughtful expression captured in exquisite detail, the curve of your fingers around the cup, even the way your scarf bunched at your neck.

“wow,” you whispered, touched and a little awestruck. “it’s beautiful.”

hyunjin’s cheeks turned pink, and he looked away bashfully. “i wanted to remember this moment,” he admitted softly.

warmth bloomed in your chest, and your heart beat a little faster. just as you were about to respond, his phone buzzed on the bench beside him. for a brief moment, his brow furrowed, but then he silenced it and slid it back into his pocket without even glancing at the screen.

“when i finish it, i’ll give it to you,” he said with a grin, slipping the notebook into his bag.

“you’d do that?” you asked, a soft smile playing on your lips.

“of course,” he said, his voice light with amusement. “think of it as an early christmas present.”

before you could respond, the jingling of a bell caught your attention. you glanced up toward the café’s door to see felix walking out, a steaming cup in his hand and a surprised smile on his face.

“well, look at you two,” felix said, his gaze flicking between you and hyunjin. his expression was warm, but you noticed the faintest hint of curiosity in his eyes—like he’d stumbled upon something unexpected.

hyunjin cleared his throat, his fingers idly spinning his coffee cup. “just grabbing a drink,” he said casually, though there was a slight edge of awkwardness to his tone.

“yeah,” you chimed in, glancing at hyunjin for a moment before turning back to felix. “we went to the art gallery down the street before this.”

felix’s eyebrows lifted slightly, his grin widening. “this a date?” he asked, his tone playful but his gaze lingering on hyunjin, as if gauging his reaction.

you froze, your cheeks flushing a deep shade of pink as you instinctively glanced at hyunjin.

“u-um, yeah,” hyunjin stammered, his voice faltering slightly as he nodded.

felix’s smile softened, and he gave a small nod. “good for you,” he said lightly before taking a sip of his drink. “well, don’t let me interrupt. have fun.”

he shot hyunjin a knowing look before walking off into the night.

the silence that followed was thick with unspoken words. hyunjin turned to you, scratching the back of his neck. “sorry about that. i... probably should’ve asked first.”

you laughed softly, the sound easing the tension. “it’s okay. i didn’t mind.”

“really?” he asked, his tone careful, his eyes searching yours.

you nodded, a shy smile tugging at your lips. “yeah. it’s... nice. unexpected, but nice.”

hyunjin’s features softened, and his lips curled into a smile. “well, in that case,” he said, lifting his coffee cup slightly, “here’s to unexpected nights.”

“to unexpected nights,” you echoed, clinking your cup lightly against his, rolling your eyes playfully.

the week before winter break was an exhausting blur, a whirlwind of stress that left you teetering on the edge of burnout. between the seemingly endless midterms, the chaotic frenzy of packing, and the careful coordination of plans to visit your family, there was barely a moment to catch your breath. each spare second was consumed by last-minute assignments, looming deadlines, and the relentless pressure to wrap everything up before the semester ended.

amid the chaos, hyunjin had become a constant presence in your life, an unexpected source of calm. the time you spent together felt like a refuge from the storm—a quiet interlude of shared smiles and easy conversation that made the weight on your shoulders a little lighter. the dynamic between you had shifted subtly but unmistakably; there was something growing, something unspoken but palpable.

hyunjin’s presence had a grounding effect. whether it was the way he’d catch your eye during study sessions and offer a reassuring smile, or how he’d casually walk you back to your dorm after late nights at the library, there was a comfort in his company that you hadn’t realized you were craving. he had a knack for making even the most mundane moments feel meaningful—offering to share his notes when you were drowning in coursework, or surprising you with a hot drink when he noticed you were running on empty.

it wasn’t just the gestures, though. it was the way he listened, truly listened, when you spoke about your dreams and fears, your frustrations and triumphs. it was in the way he’d share pieces of himself in return, his thoughts and stories painting a picture of someone who was far more complex and thoughtful than you’d initially realized.

whatever was growing between you two felt fragile yet promising, like the first bloom of a flower peeking through the frost. it wasn’t something either of you had labeled or defined yet, but it lingered in the way your conversations lingered a little too long, in the way your eyes sought each other across crowded rooms, in the way his hand would brush yours as you walked together—and neither of you would pull away.

one afternoon, you were holed up in the library, fingers hovering over the keyboard as you stared at the blinking cursor on your screen. a paper due by midnight mocked you, and no matter how hard you tried, the words wouldn’t come. frustration mounted, and you leaned back in your chair with a sigh, rubbing at your temples.

“i need a break,” you muttered under your breath, standing abruptly.

deciding a walk might help clear your head, you wandered aimlessly through the quiet aisles of books, the muted hum of the library’s heating system filling the air. you turned a corner near the back hallway, where the restrooms were located, and stopped short.

the sight that greeted you made your stomach lurch.

hyunjin.

he was leaning casually against the wall, his expression soft and animated as he spoke to a girl. she stood close to him, smiling brightly, her body language open and familiar. they were deep in conversation, seemingly oblivious to the world around them.

your initial surprise was quickly replaced by a sharp pang of unease. you didn’t want to intrude, so you took a cautious step back, intending to leave before they noticed you. but then, hyunjin’s laugh rang out, low and warm, and you couldn’t help but peek around the corner again.

and that’s when it happened.

hyunjin leaned in, closing the distance between them, and kissed her.

your heart dropped like a stone.

for a moment, you were frozen in place, unable to process what you were seeing. your chest tightened, a lump forming in your throat as disbelief washed over you. you hadn’t officially defined anything with him—hadn’t even explicitly talked about what your relationship meant—but seeing him with someone else felt like a punch to the gut.

without thinking, you stepped back quickly, your heel scuffing against the floor. the small sound echoed in the quiet hallway. hyunjin pulled back from the kiss, his head turning sharply in your direction.

your eyes met his, and the color seemed to drain from his face.

“y/n?” he called softly, his voice tinged with uncertainty and guilt.

panic surged through you. you shook your head and turned away, your heart pounding as you hurried back the way you came.

“wait!” hyunjin’s voice followed you, but you didn’t stop.

he caught up to you near the library’s entrance, his footsteps quick and light. “y/n, please. just—let me explain.”

you whirled around to face him, your emotions threatening to boil over. “explain what, hyunjin?” you asked, your voice trembling. “i saw enough.”

“it’s not what it looked like,” he said, his expression pleading.

you crossed your arms, trying to keep your voice steady. “then tell me. what was it? because it sure looked like you were kissing her.”

hyunjin ran a hand along his hair, his frustration evident. “it wasn’t planned. she... she kissed me first.”

“and you just went along with it?” you snapped, your hurt spilling out.

he hesitated, and the pause spoke volumes. you let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “i can’t believe this.”

“y/n, i’m sorry,” he said, his voice low. “it didn’t mean anything. she’s just—”

“don’t,” you interrupted, holding up a hand. “i don’t want to hear excuses right now. i just—” you exhaled sharply, your chest tight. “i need to go.”

without waiting for a response, you turned on your heel and walked away, leaving hyunjin standing there, his face etched with regret.

the cold air outside hit you like a slap, but it did little to numb the ache in your chest. you didn’t look back, too afraid to betray your words if you did.

tags: @ritsmith @bluesungology @jeonginsleftcheek

©chxnsgirl do not repost, translate, or copy my works in any way, shape, or form.

[dollediary]

webcam perv! pt. 1

pairings ❥ heeseung x fem!reader

point of view ❥ third person, omniscient

warnings ❥ mutual masturbation, cyberstalking, noncon recording

synopsis ❥ you meet heeseung on omegle and quickly hit it off until you accidentally disconnect. feeling at a loss from not being able to find him again, you give up and live life as if it never happened. unbeknownst to you, however, he turns out to be a hacker who hacked into your camera, resorting to watching your secretly from behind the screen… until he didn’t.

word count ❥ 4.4k

taglist: @rayofsunshineeee

author’s note: sorry it took me a bit longer to release, i ended up rewriting over the whole draft. i was gonna write the full story in one go, but if there’s one thing you should know about me, it’s that i love making series. anyway i hope yall enjoy! & a reminder that my requests are open (send as an ask or submission pls do not dm me lol). go check out my other stories while you’re at it bc i have much more cooking! not proofread so don’t come for me!

y/n lay blank faced on her bed with her phone in hand. it had been hours since she’d gotten home from her classes, and now she was just scrolling mindlessly on tiktok out of boredom. her room was quiet except for the occasional hum of her heater and the everchanging audios blasting from her phone’s speakers.

she sighed, tossing her phone to the side resorting to staring at the ceiling. as the days were growing colder, y/n couldn’t help but to feel this growing sense of loneliness creeping in, like there was something missing that she couldn’t quite put her finger onㅡexcitement was the closest word she think of. she didn’t have many friends to talk to, or text, or hang out with—just her best friend natty, but the girl was currently unreachable as she had already fallen asleep after their brief phone call.

midterms were always the dryest times for y/n. after spending hours in the library, forcing far too many categories of knowledge down her throat for her own goodㅡ just to end up with barely above average scores, she was too drained to do much of anything else when she got home. but, it was hard to just sleep. she was intransigent when it came to resting after studying because she wanted to give herself the free time she’d lost instead. usually being on her phone, and rotting her brain away with the useless curated content that she handpicked for herself would suffice. but on days like thisㅡ where her studying ended close to (or in this case, after) midnight, it wasn’t nearly enough to satisfy the dopamine she was longing for.

after a few moments of lying in a frozen state of staring off into nothing, she reached for her laptop, opening it on impulse. omegle. it had been a while since she’d used it, and honestly, it wasn’t the best idea, but she figured it might help pass the time. and maybe it’d even give her some form of human interaction, though her hopes weren’t too high given the website’s reputation. she typed “k-pop” into the category field, hoping it’d narrow down the pool to people around her age who might share at least one interest with her.

the first few chats weren’t anything special. she ran through the typical brief hellos, the awkward pauses, and of course the familiar “stranger has disconnected.” a few times, however, she was met with the sight of creepy old men who took pleasure in flashing, reacting at lightning speed to skip the chats before things could get worse. some people seemed normal at first, friendly even, but as soon as they’d start saying weird thingsㅡor worse, making noises that gave away their intentions, it’d soil her mood once again as she refreshed her tab.

after getting skipped again for the umpteenth time, y/n found herself hovering her mouse over the “new chat” button, debating. she looked at the clock in the corner of her screen, she had already wasted 30 minutes trying to find a normal human being to talk to. she was beginning to wonder if this was really a good idea to begin with. was it even worth possibly getting harassed for another half hour, in the name of being social? she weighed her options: she could either waste another 2 hours on tiktok, or go to bed. neither seemed appetizing for the hunger of connection she craved. with a sigh, she decided to try one more. and if it didn’t work out, it just meant that it was time to call it a night. she clicked to start a new chat.

stranger is typing…

stranger: hii

you: hello

stranger: m23

you: f22

stranger: cam?

you: earn it?

this one didn’t seem too bad so far, but she wasn’t going to make an early judgement. the man seemed to respect her decision as he quickly changed the conversation. they kept things light, alternating on asking each other random questions back and forth about hobbies, favorite foods, movies, shows, and music. the conversation was easy, fun even, and y/n found herself smiling a little despite the earlier frustration. it was like she was finally getting what she was looking for. with the conversation being tame, he took it as a green light to ask again.

stranger: can i see you now?

you: fine lol

y/n hesitated before turning her camera on and adjusted her hair quickly before looking at the screen. the male in her vision had a sharp, almost angelic face, with delicate features that seemed to be personally sculpted by the man above. his hair was dark and tousled, the slight messiness giving him a laid-back, calm vibe with his headset only adding character to his visual as they laid over his ears. his eyes were a captivating deep brown. they were soft and friendly, it made it hard to look away. even through the webcam, it was clear he had this undeniable charm, his steady gaze hinting that he knew the effect he had on others. the two of them stayed still, ogling each other for a bit, the stare down only being interrupted when he abruptly started typing again.

stranger is typing…

stranger: damn ur fine lol

you: thx so are you

stranger: you in korea?

you: yeah

stranger: me too

stranger is typing…

stranger: audio?

you: yk what? yeah

heeseung and y/n both go to turn on their audio. while her room was silent, disregarding the small noise coming from her room’s heater, heeseung had r&b music softly playing in the background. it only added to this boy next door vibe she was getting from him. the two of them were silent for a second before heeseung decided to break the ice by speaking first.

“hello? let me know if you can hear me.” his voice came through clearly, deep and smooth, carrying a natural warmth that drew her in without him even trying. a part of her was convinced he had to secretly be a weirdo. what was someone as attractive as him even doing on this site, yet alone at this hour? she took a breath before answering.

“hi, yeah i can hear you,” she replied, her tone a little uncertain, unsure of how to match his cool energy. she wasn’t exactly the extroverted type of person to begin with, you can only imagine how much harder it was to speak when such a captivating face was waiting for her response in real time.

heeseung only chuckled softly, the sound seamlessly exuding natural confidence. “so… i guess we finally get to talk now.”

y/n smiled at his words, her need for approval rising as she juggled through all the responses she could make to keep him engaged, “yeah, seems like it,” she responded, her voice was steady now as she tried to shake off the nervousness creeping in. 

heeseung chuckled, shifting closer to his keyboard as his fingers danced over the keys. the music in the background shifted, the beat changing just as he leaned back in his chair, folding his arms behind his head. his voice lowered a notch as he spoke, a hint of amusement in his tone. ”i’m, heeseung, by the way.”

“y/n,” she responded.

“i gotta admit,” he said, “i wasn’t sure if you’d actually turn on your mic.”

“why’s that?” she asked, an almost muted giggle escaping her lips as she twirled a strand of her hair, her fingers displaying how nervous she felt. heeseung watched her with a quiet intensity, noticing every little movement she made. the way her fingers fidgeted and how she avoided meeting his gaze through the screen.

“i don’t know,” he said, his tone lazy and nonchalant, but holding a teasing undertoneㅡ a subtle shift she didn’t quite catch onto. “guess i’m just lucky you did.” he didn’t say anything about her fidgeting, though. he didn’t need to. she seemed like the type to change her behavior once it was called out, and he was more captivated by it than he let on. there was something about her shyness, moreso the way she couldn’t quite hide it, that intrigued him. “so, what do you usually do when you’re not chatting with strangers on the internet?”

his question had caught y/n off guard for a brief moment, another nervous laugh slipping past her lips as she tugged on her shirt’s collar, adjusting it to make sure nothing was out of place though she didn’t actually need to. she didn’t know why, but something about talking to him felt different from the others. “uh, not much… if i’m not studying, i just watch tiktoks or call my friend if she’s not tired.” she replied hoping the answer sounded casual enough.

“hm, sounds like you’ve got some time to kill,” heeseung smirked, inching his chair closer to the screen. he opened a second tab, the soft clatter of his typing blending effortlessly with the mellow r&b drifting through the background.

“yeah, guess i do. life’s… kinda mundane, you know?” y/n replied sheepishly. her gaze followed his, noting the slight movement of his hands just out of view, but chucking it up to him searching for another song to play as the music shifted again. he didn’t back away from the screen this time, though. instead, he kept his eyes locked on hers, unwavering.

“i get it,” heeseung replied, his voice lowering slightly, but still keeping its laidback manner, like they were just two people having an ordinary conversation. “i’m the same, but i'm more of a youtube guy, i found out about this site through a video on there.” as he spoke, his finger subtly danced across the keyboard, the screen flickering with the quiet download of her IP address. his eyes stayed on the camera, his expression open and unreadable, like he was genuinely listening to her.

“that’s interesting, this app usually has a bad rep. like, there’s only creeps on here,” y/n said, though her words seemed to be misunderstood as heeseung furrowed his brows.

“are you trying to insinuate that i’m a creep?”

her eyes widened in shock, and she quickly slapped a hand over her mouth. a stutter broke through her words. “what?! no! i’m just saying—i’ve run into a lot of them tonight before i landed on you. so i was just… i don’t know. forget i said anything.” she sulked, her face reddening with embarrassment at her failed attempt to relate. heeseung watched in awe, his lips curving into a small, knowing smile, at her mannerisms, finding every one of her reactions so cute. sensing her discomfort, he smoothly shifted the topic.

“i’m kidding, y/n.” he grinned, showcasing his pearly whites. “so… what’s one thing you’ve always wanted to do but never got around to?” he asked, his tone light, but there was an underlying intensity to his gaze. he wasn’t just asking out of curiosity; he was studying her, absorbing every word she said, as if her answers would tell him everything he needed to know.

y/n paused, thinking for a moment before she answered. “probably traveling more. i feel like i’m always stuck in the same routine.”

“yeah, routines can be… limiting. but they’re also comforting, right?” he paused, his eyes flickering to a different part of his screen for just a moment before he continued. “you know, sometimes it’s those little moments, when everything feels a little too safe, that you need to shake things up.” he spoke so casually, like he was giving advice, but it sounded a bit odd to y/n. she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to his words, though she couldn’t put her finger on what it was. regardless, she found herself wanting to stay, wanting to know more. and she was always too paranoid for her own good anyway. it was probably nothing.

“i guess.”

“oh. yeah, but is that the only reason you’re on here?” heeseung’s fingers were still moving on his keyboard, the quiet clicking of the keys going unnoticed now. he wasn’t just talking anymore—he was already pulling the strings, weaving a subtle web around her, all while his words remained smooth and harmless. y/n’s lips pursed in thought, the sudden change in the atmosphere making her feel more curious than she was letting on.

“what do you mean?” she asked, confusion creeping into her tone as she leaned forward, trying to get a better look at him. heeseung’s system, working silently in the background, had breached the security of her wifi by now, scanning through the connected devices, its main goal being to gain access to her phone.

“i mean… it’s almost 4am, saturday night. you’re a cute girl, seem kind of introverted, but you give off this vibe... like you’re looking for some fun.”

whatever dimwitted perception y/n formed of him had shattered. he was no different from any of the other men she’d encountered prior. “oh. i don’t really do… that,” she replied, a slight pout playing on her lips. she moved her mouse to hover over the skip button, but she didn’t click it. something was keeping her here. maybe it was the way he looked at her—too attractive, too confident. she wasn’t sure, but she didn’t move.

heeseung noticed her hesitation, his grin widening. “oh, neither do i,” he said in a humoring manner, brushing her reaction off as if his earlier comment didn’t mean anything. “i just had to test the waters. can you blame me though? it’s not every day you meet an attractive girl on here. you said it yourself, there’s usually only creeps on here, right?”

“yeah,” she laughed, the sound effortlessly drawn out as she got caught in the pull of his charm. any cautions she had before seemed to dissipate as she got lost in his eyes. she debated whether she should just give in—it wasn’t like they’d see each other again, right? but then, the stories about girls who made impulsive choices, and got extorted, crept into her mind. the fear of becoming just another statistic arose.

“what do you have in mind?” she asked, her words slipping out before she could think them through. her people-pleasing tendencies had kicked in, but the smile that spread across his face made her heart race. somehow, it felt good, like she was doing something right. and that made it feel worth it. rewarding, even.

“whatever you’re offering, baby,” heeseung replied smoothly, his voice dipping into an unfamiliar, alluring tone that made her body tingle. as he spoke, his hand moved subtly off-screen, clicking to start recording. the faintest smirk curled on his lips as he leaned closer to the camera, his eyes burning into hers with a suggestiveness that made her feel seen in a way she hadn’t before. desired. wanted.

“i don’t know,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. a nervous smile played on her lips as her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her shirt. her eyes darting away from the camera before flicking back to his. “i’ve never done anything like this before.”

heeseung tilted his head slightly, his smirk widening as he studied her. there was something about her naivety, the way she danced on the edge of her own boundaries, that made his pulse quicken. he decided then and there that if he wasn’t already obsessed before, he definitely was now. utterly and completely.

“well, i’m honored to be the first,” his voice dripped with seduction, but his eyes glinted with something far more sinister.

her cheeks flushed as she hesitated again, her fingers picking at the fabric of her shirt before she finally blurted, “could you maybe…” she paused, laughing softly at how ridiculous she felt to ask. “show me something, too? just to keep it fair.” her words made heeseung pause for a moment before a low chuckle escaped him, growing into full, unrestrained laughter. he leaned back in his chair, shaking his head in amusement, his eyes never leaving her face.

she was truly a character—everything about her was so… adorable. her openness, her immediate trust in a complete stranger, and the impulsivity that seemed to pour out of her without a second thought. it was intoxicating. she was everything he’d been looking for, everything someone like him—a man with desires he dared not say aloud—would dream of finding. and yet, beneath his amusement, there was a darker realization. if she wasn’t careful and kept giving away pieces of herself so easily, someone would take advantage of her. someone crueler, more reckless, more dangerous than him. he couldn’t let that happen. not with anyone else at least. she was his now. and if she was going to be ruined, it would only be by him.

“would you like it better if i go first?” heeseung inquired, his voice smooth as the corners of his lips nearly curled into a restrained smirk. he watched her reaction closely, catching the way her quick, almost desperate nod betrayed her displayed excitement. it was endearing, almost painfully so. it drove him crazy. he pursed his lips, feigning contemplation, before his smile grew wider, softer. “thought so,” he murmured, his tone carrying just enough teasing warmth to make her feel both at ease. she was completely under his spell. 

he reached for his webcam, the movement slow as he decided to savor the moment. tilting it slightly, he aimed it downward, the lens capturing his relaxed posture, legs spread comfortably wide. the soft fabric of his sweatpants clung to him in just the right way, emphasizing his figure without him needing to do much at all. the unthought of confidence in his movements was enough to hold her gaze, her breath catching as the tension in the air thickened. his hands grazed over the fabric covering his length, a small hiss of relief leaving his lips as he did so. she had already gotten him painfully hard without even trying.

lifting his hips, he slides his sweats down. just enough for him to pull his cock out, an unintentional gasp falling from y/n’s lips at the sight of it. he couldn’t hide the rush of pride that surfaced at her reaction. it was a response he’d grown accustomed to from his long list of other victims on the site, but there was something about y/n that struck him differently. her wide-eyed gaze, the way her lips parted slightly as if she wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words—it was enough to ignite a deeper need within him, a desire to draw her in further, to leave her completely captivated by him.

a quiet curse slipped past his lips as he stroked, his hand barely being able to wrap around its girth. his movements were meticulous, unhurried as he moved to spread his precum over the rest of his length. he leaned back slightly, his gaze never leaving her face. his dark eyes carried a silent command, the faintest nod of his head urging her to follow his lead. he didn’t have to say a word—his confidence, his control, it was all laid bare in the way he watched her, waiting to see how far she would go.

it was then that y/n realized she couldn't back out now. not that she wanted toㅡ her curiosity, mingled with the pull he had over her, kept her rooted in place. but it was starting to feel too real, the weight of the moment sinking in as she hesitated, unsure of what he was expecting. the fact that he left it up to her made it even more difficult. her mind raced as she nervously tugged at the bottom of her shirt, praying her choice would be enough to satisfy him.

heeseung's gaze didn't waver, his expression unreadable but intent, as though he were savoring every second of her hesitation. when she finally moved, lifting her shirt to display her breasts. her cheeks burned as she moved her hands over one, massaging and pinching her nipples. his lips twitched into the faintest smile. to her, his reaction was subtle, leaving her questioning if she'd done enough. 

but to heeseung, it was everything.to him, everything about her was intoxicating to him, from the nervous way she moved, to the unsure glances she gave him. he would have been satisfied just seeing her collarbone. his heart raced at the thought of how easily she gave in, how willingly vulnerable she was in front of him. it inflated his ego even more, knowing he was the first to witness this side of her.

he forced himself to keep his expression composed, though his excitement was nearly impossible to contain. the speed of his fingers absentmindedly sped up, thinking of how he’d be able to relive it again later tonight. and he’d make sure to replay every moment, over and over, obsessing over the way she unwittingly gave herself to him.“ah~ fuck, y/n,” he whimpered, unable to contain the heat growing over him. his eyes snapped shut, immediately imagining his hand to be hers. his hips bucked, as he began thrusting into his fist chasing the feeling of a body he knew now that he just had to get his hands on. tonight wasn’t going to be enough, he needed more. 

y/n didn’t know where her confidence was coming from when her free hand snaked its way down to the hem of her shorts as she pushed past them straight into her panties. she scooted into a slouch allowing herself easier access as she began rubbing on her clit, the pressure soothing its throbbing ache and sending a sweet, shocking sensation throughout her body. she couldn’t bite back the moan that slipped outㅡ the noise sounding like music to heeseung’s ears. oh how jealous he was of her hands now. being able to touch her because he couldn’t. it wasn’t enough, nowhere near it.

”look at me,” he murmured, his voice rough, making her cheeks flush as she slowly opened her eyes to meet his. his gaze was full of desire, making her feel small in a way that was strangely exhilarating. she found herself wanting nothing more than to impress him. she bit her lip as she quickly moved to lower the camera, aiming it to display more of her chest and downward before returning to her prior position on the chair. it didn’t even matter to him that her shorts kept her beautiful cunt a mystery to himㅡ the whole picture was so fucking sexy. the way she was playing with her nipples, pinching and rolling them, the speed of her circular motions increasing as she chased her orgasm, the way her tongue rested on her bottom lip before she bit it, the way sheㅡ

“heeseung~ oh my god.”

fuck. if he was wasn’t already stroking fast enough, he was moving at godspeed now. he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold back. he rubbed his thumb along his tip’s slit as he kept his pace, the action leaving his hips stuttering. he was so close, and y/n was too. she couldn’t control the volume of her moans, gripping her breast like her life depended on it. “i’m gonna cum, oh my god, oh my god,” the desperation in her voice made him come undone as he bit back a loud, throaty moan. but she kept going, still chasing her climax as her moans got choked out the harder she went on herself.

just as she was about to cum, when she was almost there, her computer suddenly shut down. the screen went black without warning, leaving only an empty, lifeless void. heeseung watched as her screen flickered and then turned dark, his heart sinking in frustration. “fuck!” he swore, shooting forward in his chair, eyes fixed on the blank screen. he slammed a fist on the desk in irritation before quickly ending the recording. his hands moved frantically over the keyboard, reopening his hacking program, desperately trying to figure out what went wrong.

y/n didn’t even notice, her orgasm crashed over her as she felt like every nerve, and cell in her body had come undone. she kept her eyes closed as she let out a breathless sigh, regaining her composure. after a few seconds, y/n opened her eyes to see that her laptop was blank. she frantically clicked on buttons trying to turn it on, clicking the power button which only displayed a red drained battery as if to mock her further. of all times it could have decided to die, why now? the frustration and panic settled in as she realized she may never get to see him again. she didn’t have any ways to contact him, but would he even want to hear from her again? doubt clouded her mind. now there was no way of knowing. she wanted to keep talking to him, but the odds seemed slim. with a heavy sigh, she jumped up, scrambling to plug her laptop into the charger.

meanwhile, heeseung was still navigating through her information. he had closed out of omegle and now his focus was entirely on troubleshooting. he noticed her computer no longer showed up on the network, the last activity was two minutes ago. “that piece of shit must’ve died,” he grumbled under his breath. he figured now would be the time to access her phone’s camera as it would be useless trying to find her again on the website. switching servers on the program, he downloaded the data to his phone and went to lay down. he watched through the front camera on her phone, but it remained in the same spot unmoving. he was getting frustrated.

y/n had wasted almost 45 minutes skipping through hundreds of people in search of his face on omegle. but to no avail, his face never came up again. it was 6am, and she had plans with natty to go through with in the evening. as much as she didn’t want to right now, she had to sleep. oth of them, in their own way, ended up resigned to their separate fates. y/n reluctantly accepted her defeat, bitterly acknowledging that the night had slipped away. but at least for heeseung, there was a sense of satisfaction in knowing he would have another chance to see her again. this wouldn’t be the last time they crossed paths. he’d make sure of that.

[mocchii-writes]

hii!! i love your work! i would like to request head-canons with a reader who is an ex cop (could be from the same reason as jun ho, as they failed to investigate the mysterious island) but this time, they’re actually able to infiltrate into the games. you can do separate characters for gi hun, in ho, dae ho, thanos, and nam gyu?!

Squid Game Boys if You Were Undercover in the Games

Paring: Seong Gi-hun, Hwang In-ho, Kang Dae-ho, Choi Su-bong (Thanos), Nam-gyu x fem!Reader (Separate)

Warnings: Drugs

A/n: I hope I understood this correctly, Anon, it's a very cool one! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

~🍡🍡

Hwang In-ho:

This would be very interesting indeed

Since he's also an undercover spy-esc. type, he might not even notice if you act suspicious in that type because he's covering up himself

but he also seems smart enough to figure it out

he would admire your bravery, if so, and originally planned to shut you down once he thought you'd had enough fun

but there was something about the way you looked at him sometimes that made him pause

it took him a while to realise he actually liked you, and the thought didn't exactly comfort him

you guys would play a game of tag in the dark, jumping around the fact that you're on opposing sides of a growing war

and you'd both pretend you knew nothing so you could be friendly guilt-free

he wouldn't hesitate at the chance to save your life, unlike he would for many other "friends"

he's very protective and defensive of you anytime anyplace

if anyone even thought of hurting you, pray for them fr

he's almost ashamed to admit to himself that he cares about you, but the thought hardly crosses his mind when met with false hatred for you instead.

(or what he calls hatred)

Seong Gi-hun (s2):

You knew he could use all the help he could get, and he seemed almost too kind to be in this place

and you knew you could use all the help you could get as well

so you didn't have to think long on it to decide to tell him what you knew

he trusts you, for sure

he's also protective of you, trying his best to ensure your safety even though that's a hard ask

and you protect him too, to the best of your abilities

you both have a common goal, too, and that helps with the bonding

speaking of

you two would bond pretty well imo, sharing your stories and fears with each other at night

he's not very confident in terms of romance, and he'd probably miss most of your hints because he's so used to people never glancing his way

but eventually he would understand

if not your feelings, then his own

and he would probably confess to you by like either exploding a bunch of words out of his mouth that are hardly understandable, or very quietly and clearly, like he's sharing a secret with you

Kang Dae-ho:

If you told him he would be so impressed, let's be honest here

literally star-struck, because an undercover ex-cop is the sickest thing ever??

and not to mention he definitely already admires you

he wants to know everything about your investigation and your backstory

he feels very safe with you, but still holds himself to the standard of defending you if he needs to

you'll probably have to make the first move unless you can boost his ego a little more because like I said, he thinks you're way too cool for him

you would do your best to help him, and he does the same for you

which really makes you two a crazy power couple because when you guys really link up you're unstoppable

I just know yall would devour in the riot omg

he loves loves loves you, and he loves talking to you about all the police stuff you do and his time in the military

Choi Su-bong (Thanos):

It's an understatement to say you were wary of him, and even more wary of telling him your reasons for being here

but it's not like he would notice anything weird, so you'll be alright

you were trying to keep a low profile, but Thanos didn't intend to just let a pretty girl like you get away

He tried his usual charms, and whether or not they worked is... irrelevant... 🤭

anyways

you joined his group because you thought it gave you safety, but that didn't stop Thanos from trying to win you over

after your suspicions died down, he seemed pretty genuine

so you told him your story, and he listened

he told you he'd try to help you, but neither of you know if he could really help that much

but he definitely respected you more after that

and nobody dares to mess with Thanos's girl, but if they did, you know he'd handle it

he thinks of you as a close friend as well, and he trusts you more after you tell him you're undercover

he would want to tell Nam-gyu, but he wouldn't if you didn't want him to

he would think it's hot lmao

he'd be like, "So you're a super secret spy? cool, cool. Where's your earpiece?"

"bro"

"Hm?"

it overall wouldn't really affect how he treats you, but your relationship would sift, probably for the better

Nam-gyu:

Depending on how you met, he would be really gentle with you imo

he's really nice with thanos (though he claims it's for the drugs)

so I think if he liked you he would really like you

we know he's very touchy and probably protective of you

but when you tell him your real story, he's flabbergasted

I mean sure, it makes sense, but what??

his perfect wife? (he's known you 4 days)

he's very proud of it

will probably yap to everyone about it, sadly

you'll really have to hold him back, if you can

he'd say he wants to hear about it but hed probably lose interest lmao

but he'll ask you late at night, and you two will talk for a while about your lives

he'd say he's ashamed of his life currently, and that you have so much more potential

you'd have to comfort him and tell him it's okay

also, please comfort him when he takes drugs from thanos because they make him pretty anxious sometimes

and he just wants to be with you, so hold him ♡

protects you but also knows you can handle yourself, just give him this

Sorry, I'm posting really slow but all the req will be out once I get on that grind ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

~🍡🍡

[thinkingaboutbees]

Hi, I'm the OP of this thread on Bluesky. I thought I'd come on here and upload some of the analysis I've done in later-additions to this thread, which weren't online when Tumblr-OP @carucath made this post, as well as a recent interaction with Rhianna Pratchett, all of which I think are useful bits of contextual info/expansion. I've seen a few people in the notes/reblogs saying things about the fan-desire to rush to defend their faves etc., and kind of discounting my analysis because of that. While I agree that fandom spaces absolutely do have a huge problem with that, and that retrospectively reading Neil Gaiman's work looking for 'signs' that he was a piece of shit the whole time isn't actually constructive/doesn't really add anything useful to the discourse, my intent with this thread wasn't to try to absolve PTerry or put distance between him and Gaiman (though I can see how it reads that way). I'm more interested in looking at how 'known' people like Gaiman move within fandom spaces, as well as how our parasocial relationships with public figures, and the cult of personality which some people build up around them, can often help to protect them or even enable their behaviour (worth remembering that a number of the women Gaiman assaulted/abused have talked about being fans of his work, or meeting him through fandom spaces, or, even when not fans of his work as in the case of Scarlett, still being a bit over-awed by his fame and reputation). I suspect that Gaiman's embellishment of his relationship with PTerry helped to build up his persona in SF/Fantasy fandom spaces after Pratchett's death, contributing to his personal Cult of Personality and fandom parasocial relationships with him. Over the last 5 years especially, Gaiman has had a pretty meteoric rise in the public eye outside of online SF/Fantasy fandom spaces & conventions. In particular a number of his works have been adapted for TV across various large streaming-platforms following the success of Good Omens, with high-profile names attached to them, and large marketing campaigns. By positioning his Good Omens adaptation as 'Terry's dying wish' of him, Gaiman has gained a lot of attention for it and for his other work, increased his own public standing, and thus directly profited off of Pratchett's legacy and the public perception that the two were close friends. (Obviously GO was adapted with the support of Rhianna & Rob, but, as you'll see in these other threads, we probably should think of it as being primarily a PTerry novel, with some minor input from Gaiman). Some personal context: I hold two degrees in English literature (both with Firsts, or a 3.7-4.0 GPA for the Americans on this thread), as well as a research-Masters degree in Creative Writing (with a high 2.1, because I developed a chronic illness which made me bedbound for 6 months of that degree lmao). I have a long-standing personal and academic interest in both Gaiman and Pratchett's work, and have written multiple essays on Terry Pratchett's style & his approach to genre, including some for my Masters degree. I generally stay out of fandom spaces these days, and these threads have sprung out of my own prior research and academic work. While I'm yet to seek a PhD, I have previously been employed by the English Literature department of the main university in my city, where I was the tutor for one of their undergraduate courses (this means I was responsible for organising and running the weekly group tutorials/workshops which make up the other contact-hours for students outside of lectures, providing one-on-one support and feedback for students who asked for extra guidance but didn't feel it was complex enough to go to the head lecturer, and for marking student-essays). I do eventually hope to go in to academia/lecturing, but right now am taking a few years off from studying since finishing my Masters to pay off some of my student loan debt, get my health back on track, and to focus on my creative practice and writing career.

There was an interesting thread on Bluesky dissecting Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett's relationship

TL:DR - It seems like Gaiman has been exaggerating the level of closeness between them for YEARS

[technofeudalism]

i've got one more wall of text in me for today. i'm sorry, but hopefully this helps more people than it annoys.

i understand the concerns people have about social media being captured to technofascist oligarchs and i share them.

however, and you can call me a boomer for this if you'd like, i am way more worried about the fact that we are watching a scarier replay of the 2016 hyper-normalization of Donald Trump already being carried out in mainstream/establishment news outlets.

Some political operatives on the right, who saw mainstream media coverage of Trump’s first term as overly hostile, say the way the press covered Trump’s first term unwittingly did him a favor.   “I do expect that the media coverage will be a little different in tone,” one national Republican strategist told The Hill this week. “Not because the media is all of a sudden planning on being more objective and less biased, but because they probably finally recognize that their over-the-top hysterical coverage has done nothing but help Trump politically.”  

there are many reason this freaks me out worse, but i can sum up a couple of them.

the rhetoric this time is a magnitude more insane and suddenly alarmingly expansionist. logic would suggest this would justify an even more critical evaluation from the media that they are seemingly neglecting to provide.

the public, thanks to total dereliction of duty by the Democrats, are far more geared up for fascist shit than ever, but are totally ignorant to how this is going to happen (concentration camps)

speaking of the Democratic party: following a series of humiliating, high profile L's, the party finds themselves leaderless and less popular than they've been in 30 years at the worst time. when asked to name the leader of the Democratic Party, 49% of registered voters couldn’t name a person or said “nobody.”

before i continue, i know that there has been a dramatic decrease in people who get their news from traditional media and instead rely on social media, podcasts and the like. that makes sense. people aren't watching cable news anymore, chiefly because fewer and fewer people under the age of 30 even have cable TV and they definitely aren't paying for a New York Times subscription.

but what people fail to consider is that the "news" people consume via social media is often rehashed or half-baked, word of mouth versions of reporting conducted by the mainstream media or the journalists who work for them. there are still journalists working for these publications who take advantage of the increased exposure podcasts provide and go on them to talk about their writing.

people hear the same stories at the end of the day, but the way the issue is initially framed when the story first "breaks" and how it is approached by other outlets who follow up on it is significant. it's a lot less work to have to clean up and suppress news on your platform when the news is already favorable to your cause.

think along the lines of a massive disinformation campaign emerging from one outlet, social media being thrown into a complete frenzy and the only journalist who knows the truth from another outlet hesitating to speak out because of threats from his publisher to keep outrage revenue high or, perhaps more ominously, to directly serve the interest of the fascists in charge.

the US media has always been servile to whims of corporate interests because... well... they are owned by the corporate interests.

but up until today, i was holding out some sliver of hope that even if the NYT, for example, wasn't taking up antifascist actions, they would hold onto a tiny bit of reliability as a further watered down version of itself. an increasingly rare, delicate weapon against misinformation on social media, as opposed to being another tool wielded by fascists on aforementioned social media to grow legitimacy and manufacture consent.

then i saw this. my feeling is now that if the New York Times can't even write a headline - with THAT photograph underneath it - that says in plain English "Elon Musk Makes Nazi Salute Twice at Trump Inauguration," then there is going to be a frightening decrease in quality journalism being funded by mainstream outlets coming.

if you are not sure what to do and you want to be well informed, i have two suggestions. the first and most important, most difficult one that is a skill hard to master, is to develop decent media literacy and an ability to derive context from history.

the second is to build a network of trustworthy local, national and global sources that you can count on. ideally, they would be completely independent and free from editorial oversight or corporate control.

here are some of my recommendations. all of them are flawed. never rely on one source. do not immediately accept something as the truth from any single source. everyone is capable of accidentally getting a detail wrong, or even deliberately misleading.

Dropsite News - ran by Ryan Grim, Jeremy Scahill

The Intercept - sadly running out of money, alleged CIA ties

Democracy Now! - more center-left, better domestically

Jacobin - wide variety, sometimes shitty takes, Alex Press is great

The Grayzone - this one is controversial (mainly just to liberals) and they make no qualms about being committed to reporting from an anti-imperialist view of the world

Black Agenda Report - perspective from Black leftists. founded by Glen Ford (RIP), a Black Panther and accomplished investigative journalist

Hasan Piker - hate him, love him, neutral, doesn't matter. he's the largest independent political commentator on the left (by far), covering news and misinformation 9 hours a day. you can think he has shit takes, but he's still a reliable source and has been insanely accurate with his opinions

The Majority Report - been around forever, Sam Seder & Emma Vigeland are amazing, once home to the incredible Michael Jamal Brooks (RIP)

Breakthrough News

Labor Notes

Ben Norton @ Global Political Economy

Caitlin Johnstone (AUS)

these are just what i could come up with but there are many more if you do a little bit of digging using these as a baseline. just remember that the source ultimately is irrelevant and will have it's own biases. it is up to you to separate fact and fiction.

[romerona]

The Cook and The Teacher!

Let's pretend The Bear and Abbot Elementary are in the same city.

Another cute interaction between Carmen (Carmy) Berzatto x Abbot Teacher Femreader! Sunshinereader!

You sat at the table, doing your best to appear interested as your date droned on about his latest work achievements. Something about managing accounts, sealing big deals, and being “essential” to the success of his company. You’d lost track of the details five minutes in, your polite smile starting to feel like a workout for your face.

“…but you wouldn’t get that,” he said, waving his hand dismissively, like you were a child. “Teaching kids and all. It’s like... coloring books and snack time, right?”

Your smile faltered, and you tightened your grip on the stem of your wine glass, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. “Not quite. It’s actually pretty challenging—teaching is about shaping young minds, not just... crayons.”

“Sure, sure,” he said, nodding like he wasn’t really listening. “But you have to admit, it’s not exactly high stakes.” He leaned back in his chair, a smug grin stretching across his face. “I mean, no offense.”

“None taken,” you replied tightly, though the bile creeping up your neck said otherwise. You took a slow sip of your wine, hoping the glass might serve as a buffer between his words and your patience. Spoiler: it wasn’t working.

Inwardly, you cursed yourself for agreeing to this. What had Ava said when she pitched the idea? “Girl, you’re way too cute to be single and wasting away in that apartment of yours. You need to get out there. Shake things up. And this guy? Total catch—tall, successful, and probably rich. You’re welcome.”

At the time, it had seemed like a good idea. Ava’s relentless confidence had rubbed off on you, and the idea of putting yourself out there sounded... productive, if not promising. After all, your secret crush on your cute neighbor wasn’t going anywhere.

Carmy.

You couldn’t help but think about him as Ben prattled on about his “huge network.” Carmy was quiet, focused, and sweet in a way you didn’t think he realized. But he was also impossible to read. Sure, you’d had a few conversations here and there, shared a laugh or two, but he’d never made a move. You hadn’t either—paralyzed by the thought of misinterpreting things and embarrassing yourself.

Which is how you’d ended up here, with Ben. Wonderful, condescending Ben, who clearly thought your life’s work was a joke.

“And this place,” Ben said, gesturing around the restaurant with a smug grin. “Pretty great, right? Super exclusive. I know a guy who knows the chef here. Heard he’s like, a genius or something. Figured we’d go all out.”

You glanced around the dimly lit space, suddenly more aware of the upscale decor—the polished wood tables, the soft amber glow of the overhead lights, and the quiet hum of conversation that seemed to fill the air like music. It was... fancier than you’d expected.

The Bear.

You’d heard of it, of course—who hadn’t? It was one of those places people raved about, where getting a reservation was an accomplishment in itself. The kind of place where you know the food would be incredible, but the bill would make you question your life choices. Nice, but you were pretty sure you could only afford, like, a cup of water here.

Ben leaned in closer, grinning smugly. “This chef guy? Supposedly some kind of prodigy. I don’t know the details, but people say he’s a big deal. Good thing I’ve got connections, huh?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, noncommittal, as you glanced toward the bustling kitchen. A wave of heat and light spilled out from behind the pass, where you could just make out the shadowed figures of chefs moving in synchronized chaos.

As you sipped from your wine glass, trying to find something redeemable about Ben’s endless self-promotion, you wondered if maybe Ava had oversold this whole “dating adventure” thing.

Carmy spotted you the second you walked in.

He’d been at the pass, focused on plating an intricate dish—a delicate arrangement of seared scallops and edible flowers—when his gaze drifted toward the dining room. His hands paused mid-motion, a faint crease forming between his brows as he recognized you.

You were hard to miss, sitting near the window in a corner booth, your posture poised but just slightly tense. Dressed in something a little sleeker than usual, you looked... different. Not in a bad way—never in a bad way— Not that you ever looked anything less than beautiful, but tonight, something about you seemed… striking, enough that he found himself staring longer than he should’ve.

His eyes flicked to the guy sitting across from you. The guy who was laughing too loud, leaning back in his chair like he owned the place, gesturing with wild hands as he talked. You, on the other hand, wore a polite smile that didn’t quite light up the room as it usually did.

Carmy’s jaw tightened. He wasn’t sure why the sight of you with someone else tugged at his chest the way it did, but it lingered, heavy and unwelcome.

It’s none of your business, he told himself, forcing his focus back to the dish in front of him. You weren’t his to worry about.

You weren’t his at all.

Still, his gaze flicked back toward your table, almost involuntarily, catching the way your date seemed oblivious to your discomfort. Carmy’s stomach twisted at the thought. He didn’t know what he expected—maybe for the guy to notice the way you played with your napkin or to tone down his boisterous tone—but it wasn’t this.

“Chef?” Sydney’s voice broke his focus, sharp but professional.

“Yeah,” he muttered, snapping back to reality. His eyes returned to the plate in front of him, the arrangement now slightly skewed from his distraction. He adjusted it quickly, his movements precise but tighter than usual. “Thanks, Chef.”

As Sydney moved on, Carmy risked one last glance at you. The corner booth, the dim lighting, the guy who couldn’t seem to shut up—it all felt wrong. But he pushed it down, buried it under the quiet rhythm of the kitchen, telling himself it wasn’t his place to care.

And yet, he did.

He cared enough to, like some kind of creep, step out of the kitchen and hover near the hallway that led to the restrooms. It wasn’t a plan—not really. He told himself he just needed a breather, a moment to clear his head and shake off the knot in his chest. But he wasn’t fooling anyone, least of all himself.

The low hum of the restaurant buzzed in his ears as he leaned against the wall, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. He didn’t even know what he’d say if you saw him. Maybe he’d play it off, and act like he just happened to be there. But then, what were the odds you’d even notice him? You were here with someone else, after all.

It was ridiculous, he knew that—irrational even— he should go back, really what the fuck was he thinking--

But the sound of heels clicking softly against the floor pulled him from his spiralling thoughts. His breath hitched as you turned the corner, and your expression turned to one of shock when you spotted him.

“Carmy?” you said, stopping mid-step. Your voice carried a note of surprise, but there was something else there too—curiosity, maybe, or even relief at seeing a familiar face in such an unfamiliar situation.

“Hey,” he said, standing a little straighter, as if he hadn’t just been loitering near the hallway like a guilty teenager. He cleared his throat, trying to play it cool. “Didn’t think I’d see you here.”

You blinked, your eyes flicking over his clothes—the crisp white uniform. The realization dawned on you, and your brows lifted in surprise.

“You work here?”

“Yeah,” he said, shifting his weight slightly. “I, uh... I own it.”

Your eyes widened, and you couldn’t help the soft laugh that escaped you. “You own it?”

“Yeah,” he said again, a bit softer this time. His lips twitched into a faint, almost sheepish smile. “I started it a while back. Kind of… a long story.”

You took a moment to process this revelation, glancing around the restaurant as if seeing it in a new light. The warm lighting, the carefully plated dishes you’d glimpsed on their way to other tables—it all made sense now. Of course, this was Carmy’s place. It was thoughtful, deliberate, but somehow unpretentious.

“Wow,” you said, meeting his gaze again. “That’s... impressive.”

Carmy shrugged, his hands slipping into his pockets. “It’s just work. Nothing fancy.”

“Nothing fancy?” you repeated, a small laugh escaping as you gestured toward the elegant decor. “Carmy, this place is gorgeous. You’re way too modest.”

"Thanks," His lips twitched into a faint smile, but his eyes lingered on you, searching before he added, “You didn’t look like you were having a great time out there.”

You blinked at the sudden change in topic, your surprise melting into something closer to embarrassment.

“Oh,” you said, glancing toward the dining room before meeting his gaze again. “Yeah, it’s... it’s a date.”

Carmy’s jaw tightened imperceptibly, though his expression didn’t waver.

“Figured,” he muttered, his voice steady but low.

“Not a great one,” you admitted, your lips quirking into a dry smile. “Blind date, courtesy of Ava. It’s... fine, I guess. He’s just... not my type.”

Carmy raised an eyebrow, his curiosity getting the better of him. “What’s your type, then?”

The question caught you off guard, your breath hitching slightly as his words hung in the air. You laughed softly, deflecting. “I don’t know. Someone who doesn’t treat teaching like it’s a hobby or call it a job anyone can do.”

His lips twitched into a faint smirk, and he shook his head in disbelief. “He did not say that.”

You groaned dramatically, closing your eyes as if the memory physically pained you. “Oh, but he did. Word for word, and I quote: ‘Teaching is important, I guess. But it’s gotta be, like… easy, right? Summers off, finger painting, all that?’ And then—then!—he laughed. Like he’d just unlocked the secret to stand-up comedy.”

Carmy blinked, his smirk fading into something closer to incredulity. “You’re kidding.”

“I wish I were,” you said, sighing dramatically. “You’d think he was trying out his Type Five for open mic night. And the pièce de résistance? He throws in the classic ‘no offense.’ Like that’s a verbal Ctrl+Z or something.”

That earned a real laugh from Carmy this time, his shoulders shaking slightly as he shook his head. “What the hell? So, this is what you’re dealing with?”

“Oh, but I’m thriving,” you replied, your tone dripping with sarcasm waving your hand dismissively. “Peak romantic energy. Nothing like being told my career is a glorified arts-and-crafts workshop to really get the sparks flying.”

Carmy leaned slightly against the wall, crossing his arms as he listened. His expression was unreadable, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—irritation, maybe, or quiet disbelief. “And you’re still out there?”

“Excellent question, Chef Carmy,” you said, pointing at him with mock gravity. “I think it’s a mix of morbid curiosity, sheer stubbornness, and maybe a touch of guilt. I mean, he did spring for the wine. Even if he did refer to it as a ‘top-shelf pour.’”

That made Carmy snort, his head dropping slightly as he tried to compose himself. “Top-shelf pour, huh? Sounds like a real charmer.”

You laughed softly, though there was a bite of bitterness in it. “Oh, totally. It’s been a real dream date. Honestly, if he makes one more crack about teaching being ‘easy,’ I might just—” You mimed strangling someone, your hands curling dramatically as you added a mock growl for effect.

Carmy chuckled, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “I’d pay to see that.”

“Don’t tempt me,” you shot back, your grin sharpening. “It might get me out of this date, but I’m pretty sure assault charges aren’t a great look for me.”

He huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Fair point.”

Your playful energy dimmed slightly as you glanced toward the dining room. “Anyway, I should probably get back out there before he starts mansplaining the wine list to the waitress. Again.”

Carmy’s lips twitched as if he wanted to laugh, but instead, he straightened up quickly, the weight of his role as head chef settling back onto his shoulders. “Yeah, I should... head back to the kitchen too. Got a lot to wrap up tonight.”

You turned back to him, your expression softening. “Thanks, by the way,” you said, holding his gaze. “For... checking in, I guess. You didn’t have to do that.”

He shrugged a gesture that looked casual but felt like it carried more weight. His voice dropped slightly as he replied, “Yeah, I did.”

The words hung there for a beat, his meaning lingering just beneath the surface as the two of you locked eyes. The air between you felt heavy, almost tangible, like a thread being pulled taut. You wanted to say something—anything. Maybe a joke to break the tension, or maybe the truth: that you liked him, that you wished it was him sitting across from you tonight, making you laugh instead of testing your patience.

Unbeknownst to you, Carmy’s thoughts ran dangerously close to yours. He’d been replaying every interaction with you since the day you moved in next door, every laugh, every casual smile. The thought of you with someone else—someone who didn’t seem to notice the little things about you the way he did—made his chest tighten in ways he couldn’t explain.

But before either of you could give voice to the thoughts swirling in your heads, the faint sound of your date’s voice carried through the hallway, breaking the moment like a needle scratching across a record. You winced slightly, the weight of reality pulling you back.

“Ugh. That’s my cue,” you said, shooting Carmy an exaggerated grimace. “Duty calls.”

Carmy nodded, his expression carefully neutral, though the flicker in his eyes betrayed the emotions he was trying to keep in check. “Good luck out there.”

“Thanks,” you said with a wry grin. “I’ll need it.”

Despite his words, his gaze lingered on yours, as if searching for something unspoken. For a moment, you thought maybe—maybe—he’d say something more, but instead, he stepped back, the faintest of smiles tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“See you around,” he said, his voice quieter now.

“Yeah,” you replied softly, your heart squeezing as you turned to head back toward the dining room. “See you around.”

As you walked away, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were leaving something unfinished behind. And Carmy, watching you go, felt much the same, his hands flexing at his sides as he fought the urge to call after you.

When he finally turned back toward the kitchen, his jaw tightened, the moment still playing over in his mind. He rubbed the back of his neck, willing himself to focus as he pushed open the swinging door. The familiar clatter and hum of the kitchen greeted him, but it did little to drown out the thoughts circling his head.

He barely made it three steps before Richie appeared, leaning casually against the counter with his signature smirk firmly in place.

“Well, well, look who finally decided to grace us with his presence,” Richie drawled, crossing his arms. “What’s the matter, Cousin? Lose track of time out there? Or were you too busy making googly eyes at the customer? Can't blame you thought, she's gorgeous.”

Carmy’s jaw ticked, his shoulders stiffening. “Shut up, Richie.”

--------

Your date’s voice droned on, a monotonous background noise to your growing sense of regret. Why had you agreed to this? Why hadn’t you just stayed home with a glass of wine and a good book?

Just as you were contemplating an excuse to leave—feigning a sudden headache, maybe, or an urgent call from a friend—a waiter approached your table. It wasn’t the same one who had been serving you throughout the evening, but an older guy with an easy smile and a glimmering of mischief in his eyes carrying a small plate in hand. The plate held an assortment of beautifully arranged pastries, each one delicate and intricate, like a tiny work of art.

“Oh, I didn’t order this,” you said, your brow furrowing as you looked up at him.

“It’s from the chef,” the waiter replied, his tone polite but with a glimmer of something knowing in his eyes.

Your eyes widened slightly, your breath catching as you glanced instinctively toward the kitchen pass. Sure enough, Carmy was there, leaning slightly against the counter, his arms crossed. His expression was unreadable, but there was a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, and his gaze was fixed squarely on you.

Your heart gave a little jolt, heat creeping up your neck as you turned back to the table.

Your date, meanwhile, was entirely oblivious to the silent exchange. He grinned widely, puffing out his chest a little as he gestured to the plate. “See? Told you this place was top-notch. They must’ve recognized me. Perks of being a regular.”

It took everything in you not to burst out laughing. Instead, you bit back your amusement, your lips twitching into a barely restrained smile as you reached for one of the pastries.

“Right,” you said lightly, turning the pastry over in your hand. “Must be your VIP status.”

As you took a bite, the pastry practically melted in your mouth, a perfect blend of buttery richness and delicate sweetness. It was so good it almost made you forget the company you were keeping—almost.

“You know, this kind of attention doesn’t happen just anywhere. It’s all about knowing the right people.”

“Mmm,” you murmured, taking a bite of one of the delicate confections. It melted in your mouth, rich and buttery, with just the right amount of sweetness.

When you glanced back toward the pass, Carmy was already gone, disappearing back into the kitchen as seamlessly as he’d appeared. But his gesture lingered, wrapping around you like a quiet reassurance, a small thread of comfort in an otherwise unbearable evening.

And for the first time that night, your smile wasn’t forced.

A/N: Heyyy I hope you enjoyed it. Thank you to all those people who comment, like and reblog. Like fr you all make my week. Always looking for some ideas so please feel free to ask.

Also, please tell me if you want to be tagged. Be safe out there, please the world is too crazy at the moment. <3

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Okay, so hopefully you don't mind this, but this drawing absolutely refused to leave me alone since I've seen it and the writing gods demanded a sacrifice in it's honor.

~~~~~~

Jayce has only a basic understanding of undercity politics; even then, he knows this is a bad idea. 

He’s been coming down here for parts for over a year now. Which means he knows all the best places. Benzo’s is reliable. Good parts for a good price. [name]’s got interesting stuff, the issue is the quality is shit. It’s just as likely to break as it is to work. But there’s one place you only go if you’re really desperate. And Jayce is desperate. 

The Machine Herald’s. 

The name is odd, but from what Jayce has heard, if you need something unique, you’ll find it there. The issue is, what price will you pay for it? Because the owner is one of Silco’s. 

Even with his limited knowledge, Jayce knows you don’t fuck with Silco’s people. But again, he’s desperate.

If he can get this last part, he’ll finally have something to share that even Heimerdinger can’t dismiss for Progress Day. 

So he’s taking the risk — crossing the line you don’t cross as an outsider, and entering Zaun. 

Ever since the weird and antagonistic truce between Vander and Silco was struck, there’s been a divide in the lanes. On one side, Vander’s people. The other, the self-proclaimed Zaunites led by Silco. There’s literally a fucking line in the middle of the square demarcating whose land is whose. 

Jayce’s whole body tenses for an attack as soon as he’s stepped across it. Miraculously, his luck holds and nothing happens. 

Peering at the little map Ekko has drawn for him, Jayce frowns and turns left down an alley. 

Ekko had called him a crazy piltie with sludge for brains when he’d asked for directions to the Machine Herald’s, but Ekko is like twelve, so most of what he says is insults.  

The building is pretty nondescript. Jayce almost walks past it, but a cog mounted over the door catches his eye. It’s been welded into its shape by combining many other smaller items, wrenches, pipes, and what looks like a set of keys.

Jayce stares up at it over the open door, trying to pick apart everything in the cog.

“You look lost pretty boy.”

Jayce jumps, too focused on the art, he missed that a man appeared in the doorway. The stranger leans nonchalantly on the door jamb, shooting Jayce an almost mocking look as the pipe dangling from his fingers slowly lets off swirls of pinkish smoke.

He’s startlingly pretty.

The combination of half-skirt, corset, and unbuttoned shirt is clearly meant to draw the eye, and draw it does. Jayce scans the man, struggling to put his finger on what it is about the man that’s so striking.

A quirked brow reminds Jayce he’s yet to say anything.

“I—uh. I’m looking for a—a part?”

The man smirks, his face only getting more attractive, which is doing nothing for Jayce’s ability to string a sentence together.

“I should hope so,” the man replies. “Otherwise you’d need to head elsewhere.” There’s a unique accent to the man’s soft voice, slightly raspy from the smoking.

Jayce chuckles, and steps closer to the shop. “I’m Jayce,” he says, holding out his hand.

The man stares at him, eyes flicking down to his outstretched hand and back up to his face, amusement growing stronger.

“Viktor,” he says, passing the pipe to his other hand before shaking Jayce’s hand. “How can I help you, Jayce?”

Jayce takes a deep breath and dives right into explaining what he’s looking for. As he talks, the other man gives him a bewildered look before a glint enters his eyes, and Jayce can tell he has Viktor’s full attention.

What follows is a three-hour discussion about mechanics that robs Jayce of half his monthly stipend, but sends him home with no less than four different parts he hasn’t been able to find anywhere else.

Viktor sees him off, once again leaning casually in the doorway with a smirk firmly in place. He’s likely overcharged Jayce for everything, but Jayce is so pleased he doesn’t even mind.

“Make sure to hurry back, pretty boy,” Viktor calls to him as Jayce walks away.

Looking back, Jayce shakes his head at the other man and shoots him a wink. He’s whistling as he makes his way back out of Zaun and the lanes. Today, was a very good day.

_______________

Jayce goes back. 

It’s dumb. So very, very dumb, but he does it anyway. They’d talked for hours that first time, Viktor able to not only understand his designs but to make them better. 

Not even Heimerdinger’s done that. 

It doesn’t hurt that Viktor is one of the most beautiful people Jayce has ever seen. And he’s dated Mel Medarda. He knows beautiful. 

There’s something special about Viktor. Fragility paired with a cocky confidence that makes warmth spark to life in Jayce’s belly when he sees the other man. 

It’s all rather new for Jayce. He’s feeling out of his depth. Especially with the way that Viktor has draped himself over Jayce after shoving him unceremoniously on the couch. Legs tossed over Jayce’s, Viktor is sprawled back on the arm, ever-present pipe dangling from his fingers. 

“What’s that for?” Jayce asks before he’s thought the question through. 

Viktor pauses, holding in the hit he’s just taken before letting it spill from his lips, pink-tinted and smoky. 

“It helps with the pain.”

Jayce eyes drift to the brace partially hidden by Viktor’s skirt. He’s only been able to catch glimpses and his curiosity is gnawing at him to see more. 

Viktor stretches, knocking the skirt to the side and putting the brace and himself on display. 

“See something you like, topsider?”

Jayce ignores the taunt, peering closer at the brace. “Did you make this?”

Viktor loses some of his bravado in the face of Jayce’s admiration. 

“I did.”

It’s a gorgeous piece of engineering, and the forge master in Jayce wants a better look. 

“May I?” He asks, fingers hovering over Viktor’s leg. 

This time there’s no false bravado. Viktor nods and watches him like a hawk. 

Gently, Jayce lifts the leg, turning it a bit to see how the various parts of the brace move. Viktor doesn’t fight him, relaxed and loose in his grasp. The brace is a seamless creation. Jayce is highly impressed, so he says so. 

“It’s beautiful.”

Viktor lets out a noise that makes Jayce turn from the brace despite how much he wants to study it. A Cheshire grin has spread on the other man’s face, and there’s a glint in his eyes that speaks of danger. 

“Jayce Talis. Are you flirting with me?”

Jayce freezes, not sure he could cobble together a response even if he could get his tongue working with Viktor looking at him like that. 

One moment Viktor’s sprawled like a satisfied house cat, the next he’s straddling Jayce, arms draped over Jayce’s shoulders. 

“You like?” he purrs. 

Jayce’s brain has stopped working. He’s pretty sure for a second there be blacked out, because now his hands are holding Viktor’s waist, gripping the corset that must act as a second brace. 

Oh fuck. Jayce stares, unable to get what he’s seeing to make sense. His hands—his hands almost span Viktor’s tiny waist. 

For a moment, there’s just static in his brain and then something clicks. His brain lights up, and he squeezes. 

“Oh fuck,” he murmurs. Still staring. 

Viktor chuckles breathily, his finger threading through Jayce’s hair and then pulling, yanking Jayce’s head back. Jayce grunts, tingles racing down his spine as heat pools in his belly.

“Careful pretty boy,” Viktor whispers, leaning down so that Jayce’s eyes cross as he tries to watch Viktor’s lips. “You’re playing with fire.”

Jayce is pretty sure he’d like to be burned.

“You look like you don’t have a clue what to do,” Viktor murmurs, lashes dipping prettily.

“I mean, technically?” Jayce blurts out. Viktor pulls back, looking down at him confused. Jayce shrugs. “Inexperienced? No. This particular situation? Also no.”

Viktor cocks his head in confusion, eyeing Jayce like he’s a specimen Viktor means to study. Again that wicked smile spreads and Jayce’s heart thumps in excitement.

Leaning down so his breath ghosts over Jayce’s lips, Viktor says, “Whoever let you wander down here should have known better.”

Jayce’s mouth drops open, anticipation and want bubbling up inside him. Just a little closer.

“Piltover’s loss,” Viktor whispers. Then he kisses Jayce.

Zaun vik and Jayce

[gotham-daydreams]

Writhing

Day 4 {Challenge Masterlist}

A day away. The end is near, but they get closer. Too close.

[Yandere Batfam x Gender Neutral! Cop Reader]

[Warnings: Mentions of suicide (only mentioned in dialog), cult, occult like activities, rituals, implied human sacrifice (in dialog), sort of implied gore?, body horror, violence, blood (minor), bodily fluids (minor), flesh, general mild gore, gross description (?).] (Note: Unless otherwise specified, it's to be believed that actions involved with harming, hurting, or heavily injuring the self are not talking about the Batfamily or the reader. Still, you have been warned.)

Oops! A little late on this one, my bad! Body horror elements come in at the end of the chapter, when Selina says something to Bruce. It's over when Jason says "Thank god, he finally shut up-"

If there is such things as 'partial'/'soft' dead dove, that's how I would describe the end of this day.

-------------------------------

The day is hotter than it’s ever been for fall in Gotham, and nearly everyone could feel it. Yet, strangely enough, a noticeable amount of people seem perfectly fine with it – even if some are practically sweating in their clothes, they still go about their lives almost scarily unbothered.

Most would think that Duke would be complaining, or at the very least breaking a sweat with how long he’s been in his suit, but strangely enough, he feels comfortable like this. Almost content, but he couldn’t be – not while being so far away from you. A window was the only thing truly separating you from him, but he couldn’t bring himself to open it and slip in. Almost like something deep inside of him was telling him you wouldn’t like it if he did, and Duke couldn’t understand why. You’ve been so nice to him up until this point, so welcoming – so you wouldn’t mind if he popped in extra early, would you? Sure you wouldn’t, Duke couldn’t imagine if you did, but he’s sure you’d understand anyway. If only he could explain it to you. Explain how he’s been feeling and that he had to be inside. Then you’d understand, forgive him, and everything would be okay.

Yet, something was still keeping him out, and it was honestly getting on his last nerve.

How Duke managed to slip out of the Batcave didn’t matter – not like he remembered, anyway. What mattered was figuring what was keeping him out so he could get in-

The young vigilante watches as you slowly, almost painstakingly begin to rise from your bed to sit up. For a moment, he holds his breath, hoping and nearly pleading with all his heart that you’re awake – only to see that your eyes are still closed, and it’s still hours away from when you’d usually be up. The only difference being is that your body moved in accordance to the sun, and you rose as it did. Almost as if you two were in sync somehow, and Duke couldn’t help but find that endlessly interesting instead of strange.

Even so, he had hoped you would have actually been awake – but he could be polite, so he waited. It wasn’t very comfortable being perched on the fire escape like this, but for something like this? Duke didn’t mind, especially not when he got to spend so much time with you. When it was just the two of you, alone, together.

Duke couldn’t even feel himself sweating in his suit, but even if he could – he didn’t care. He couldn’t. Not with you in his sights.

Time passed by like sand slipping through his hands, with only the smallest bits remaining under Duke’s nails and in the lines of his palm. Since he could feel it pass, albeit faintly, and could acknowledge its passing as well, but the actual length was lost on him – as if only minutes or seconds had flown by in the place of the few hours that escaped his memory.

Not that it mattered, as once Duke saw you begin to stir and wake up, he couldn’t help but feel all giddy as he practically jumped to your window sill, and tapped on the window despite the nagging feeling that tried to stop him. He watches as you rub your eyes before glancing over to him.

Another feeling washes over Duke, one of denial – and he finds himself panicking. You had to let him in. You would, right? You wouldn’t turn him away, would you? You couldn’t leave him out in the heat like this, you had come here for you. You can’t turn him away. No. No Duke can’t accept this – who are you? Where did you go? Did someone replace you? Was this a fake? Just what was going on-

The young vigilante’s thoughts are cut off as you open the window. “What’re you doing here, kid? I don’t remember making a call… unless there’s some trouble nearby?” Duke almost forgot he was in the suit, and he almost wanted to rip it off now, but he managed to keep it on… even if he suddenly felt like he couldn’t breathe despite how his own cowl was designed. Thank god, you were fine. Normal.

“I was just on patrol and, uh, decided to swing by? See how things are going, especially with all the activity around in the city as of late–” Duke is quick to reply, clearing his throat before admitting. “And I just wanted to see how you’re doing, y’know? Can’t imagine that things have been exactly easy these past few nights.”

You raise a brow, but just sigh and shake your head at his words. ���Well, I appreciate the thought, but I got to get on with my morning, Signal.”

“I- I know! I just wanted to… do a search.”

“A… search?”

“Yeah, like- do you have any plants or anything around here?”

“Well, yes-”

“Perfect! Gotta check them and make sure they’re all good and healthy. It shouldn’t take long, and I won’t get in the way of anything, I promise!”

You can only raise a brow, but eventually relent and give a tired but amused, “Fine, do what you have to, then.”

So, you go on with your morning. Just getting ready, and keeping an eye on Duke – especially as he tries to make conversation. Nothing too out of the ordinary, but considering where you’re supposed to be standing, it is odd. Though, it only made you feel better as you decided to entertain him a little. Answering his questions, holding the position you’ve managed to maintain for the past few days, and keeping up appearances. It was easier during the day for countless reasons, a good night’s rest being one of them. Staying up was really taking a toll, and you needed your energy for what’s to come.

Nevertheless, it quickly comes to a point where Duke is obviously trying to stay, and you can’t figure out why. You feel like you’ve dropped enough hints at this rate, and so you try to confront him about it gently… only for him to stumble over his words and struggle to speak for whatever reason. It’s honestly a little frustrating, but you can work with this. You’ve dealt with worse than a clingy kid in a costume.

So, putting on a more natural smile as you remember to compose yourself, you make the same offer that’s always worked for you time and time again.

“Say, why don’t we have a bit of breakfast?”

— — — – — – — — — — — —

Barbara was beginning to regret taking Dick’s advice on getting some air, especially now that she was a few ways away from the only useful computer they could use at the moment. She appreciated the effort, but given the countdown and the list of questions they still have to answer – well, they didn’t exactly have a lot of time for a break.

Still, it was nice getting out of the clock tower for a bit. That much Barbara could agree with, even if it was strangely hot for fall… it couldn’t be the work of another villain, could it? They had their hands full enough as it is, and this cult wasn’t helping with that – not to mention the fact they didn’t know if it was just that.

“Ugh, why’s it so warm? I don’t remember fall being this hot.. did the news even mention something like this?”

Dick hums for a moment, and gives a shrug as they continue down the street, “Hm, I don’t think so! Just said something about today being nice?” He snickers slightly, “A little ironic, huh? It’s almost like they’re trying to downplay it! But who knows? Maybe they don’t even notice!”

Barbara can only huff in response, “How can they not? It’s almost like spring out here, or even summer, honestly-”

[“Oracle, focus.” Bruce’s voice so rudely pierces through the moment.]

“I would be if someone hadn’t taken me out.”

“Hey! It’s not a crime to get some fresh air every once in a while! Especially when on a tough, grueling case like this… you know that if we keep going at it with no breaks, we’ll all drop before that countdown even finishes.” Dick tries to defend himself, and Bruce at least acknowledges his point by staying silent – the only sign of him still being on the line being a gruff exhale he lets out.

Barbara just shakes her head and rolls her eyes, not bothering with a response as she waves off Dick’s words and usual antics. Though, it was a nice change of pace compared to how the last few nights have been – even if they somehow managed to avoid any more deaths last night. Tragedy was to be expected in their line of work, and Gotham’s reputation only made that more apparent, but this was… something else. It didn’t feel like they were any closer to figuring out the answers to questions they had even at the start of all this, or only had half of a possible answer. Like how they knew the other groups Clark was able to track are heading towards major cities, but they still didn’t know why aside from the Red Dawn you had mentioned.

At this point, it almost felt like a goose chase! And if they didn’t get anything concrete fast, who knows what could happen-?

“... Hey, what’s with all the people in front of that book store?” Barbara points out as she taps Dick’s shoulder, grabbing the officer’s attention.

Humming, he looks over to where Barbara was gesturing towards, and shrugs. “Who knows? Maybe there’s a sale or something? Some famous person released a new volume?” The very idea nearly makes her laugh, and as much as Barbara wants to – she’s getting a weird feeling about it. Like something important was going on over there, and that she had to check it out now.

“Well, it couldn’t hurt to check it out, right?” She suggests, only for Dick to remain where he was, which only now she realizes that they’ve stopped moving all together. Huh, when did that happen?

Nevertheless, Dick gives the shop a once over, his eyes narrowing slightly at the crowd that’s formed in front of it, and is continuing to grow as the seconds pass. Some still walk past, and seem to mind their own business – but for some reason, others seem drawn to it like a moth to a flame, and there could be only one explanation for it.

“Nah, I think we’ll be fine right here.” He says, sounding almost a little too sure of himself.

Barbara raises a brow and looks over to Dick, curious but also a bit annoyed for reasons even she can’t place. “Why do you think that-?”

Before she can even finish, you come strolling out from the alley just a few inches ahead of them, and Barbara blinks in slight surprise. What were you doing awake-?

“Hey, [Last Name]!” Dick greets without missing a beat, an odd sort of smile making its way across his face. “Where were you last night?”

You look over to him, blinking as well before straightening yourself out. “Oh! Officer Grayson, what a surprise… and Ms. Gordon? What are you both doing out?”

Barbara’s brows furrow, but before she could speak up, Dick spoke up again. “I asked you first, [Last Name]. Where have you been? I can’t imagine you’d take the night off in the middle of a serious situation.”

“I’m… sorry, but something had come up- and I apologize, but I don’t remember anyone mentioning you looking for me?”

“So you were on duty last night-?”

Barbara nudges Dick’s arm, “I’m sorry for my friend here, you’re one of the officers that came in from Metropolis, right?" She interrupts, surprising you a little more. Though, you take the opportunity and give a nod, offering a hand - one that Dick eyes before looking back at you.

Not once does he even attempt to glance at his supposed ally.

"Yes! Officer [Last Name] at your service, ma'am. It's been an honor working with your father."

Barbara nods, taking your hand... which gives her an oddly tingly feeling. One that makes the hairs on her arm stand, but she hardly notices. "Really? Well, I wouldn't get too used to that - wouldn't want to stay in Gotham for longer then you'd have to, right?" She laughs lightly, "I hope the city hasn't been too much of a handful, Officer."

"Oh, there's no need for that, Gordon! Everything's gone... well, as good as it can. We're doing all we can to resolve things as quickly as possible- I assure you." You try to reassure, and while Barbara appreciates the effort - she was still getting the funniest feeling that you were down playing the situation too much. To say you were calm felt like an understatement, you're more laid-back then anything, and for a case like this? That didn't feel like a good thing.

Still, she plays along as well. "Is that so? Then is there anything you know about the case?"

"Well, I don't think we know more then the commissioner's friend per say, but the detective's coming in later and-"

"Wait, the detective-?"

It's only then that you notice something, and already try to take your leave.

"I really wish we had more time to discuss! But I must be going now, please forgive me, Gordon- ah, and of course you, Grayson."

"[Last Name]-!"

Dick's plea is swallowed by the sizable crowd that passes them, and almost seems to go in the direction you were headed in. Yet, when trying to catch a glimpse of you - you're nowhere to be found.

Folding his hands into fists, Dick's nails dig into his palms - something he doesn't even seem to notice or feel. "Damn it." He curses under his breath. So much for that, now he'll have to-

"What was that about?" Barbara can't help but ask out loud, looking at the crowd that was already disappearing before glancing up at Dick. The expression he wore making her worried, and she reached out a hand. "Hey, you okay?"

He shakes it off, and just gives a nod, smile strained. "Just peachy, Babs."

Again, before Barbara could another word out - her phone buzzes, and it's only then that she realizes her commlink was disconnected for... whatever reason? Nevertheless, she picks it up, and tries to gesture to Dick that they should go, which... takes a while. Almost too long, considering how they've got less then twenty-four hours left on that countdown.

Selina's on the line, and she and Barbara try to figure out what they can - and Barbara can't exactly place it, but it feels like only her and Selina are even somewhat level headed. It makes no sense, and she doesn't have time to dwell on it, so Barbara just pushes it to the side for now.

Somehow, they're still having trouble getting the Batcomputer up and running, so Tim and the samples are going to be at the clock tower for the time being so they can continue to work despite the 'hiccup'. Until nightfall comes, Bruce is looking into what he can while trying to get the Batcomputer even semi-functional, and is talking with everyone he can, sharing all the information they have at the moment - trying to see if anyone else knows something they don't.

Meanwhile the other's seem to be doing... something. What exactly? No one's totally sure, but considering the time they've got left? Well, they can only assume it's something useful.

Which... made Barbara remember something just as the call ended. Sighing, she just sits back as her wheelchair continues down the sidewalk. "Where even is Duke, anyway? I can't believe he managed to slip past everyone before his patrol... and before we could come up with a plan too." She can't help but grumble, but really only hoped the kid was okay.

Dick, who had been quiet even since they turned back around - let his silence linger for a moment longer, as if thinking before responding. "Something tells me he's on patrol."

Barbara glances at Dick once more, "Oh yeah? And how can you figure that out when he left without his phone and commlink somehow?" 

Dick only gives a smile, one that Barbara had never seen before that gives her... mixed emotions at best. His eyes closed, and though the rays of sun only made him look better, Barbara couldn't deny the way his heart paused at the sight. What kind of smile even is that-?

"I've just got a really good feeling. So let's go back to the tower, m'kay?"

For once, the chirp in Dick's tone did little to ease Barbara's sudden feeling of dread. One that all too quickly turned into something similar to comfort, and she couldn't even fathom why.

— — — — — — — — — —

Before the moon even has the chance to fully rise, a certain mishmash family of vigilantes is still hard at work. Whatever a few of the others were working on in the batcave, Duke joined them the moment he got home - but after his suit was put aside, and practically put on quarantine with how much of the red stuff it had on it. It was like sand and had gotten into every small crevasse it could - and not just in the suit.

When asked about it, Duke just didn't know. Claiming he didn't remember even losing the suit, but knew he had it on this morning because - well, why wouldn't he? The questioning seemed to confuse him as much as everyone else, and Dick eventually put a stop to it... strangely enough.

Nevertheless, Tim was able to find a bit more information, and when asked he simply said, "Well, I don't think it'll help us right now but... these guys- the group, at least- has been around for a while now. Not like Ancient Egyptians or anything, but they've definitely been around longer than just a few months. It's hard to pinpoint when they were exactly formed or founded, but I'll give it a few years. Maybe even decades."

Chipping in, Barbara adds, "They've got their hands in just about anything you can imagine. It's hard to tie them to politics, but they've got banks, industries, and so on that have supported various churches that are around some of the areas Clark marked before... well, the black out last night. Thank god a backup was sent to the Clock Tower's database."

Tim hums in agreement, "Exactly. And, to add on to that- but even some businesses have given to a few of these churches or groups, but most seem to have their own way of spreading... whatever this is. Though, if only certain banks from these companies support the 'cause', or the company itself supports it is harder to figure out."

"Again, not super helpful, but definitely gives a better idea of who these guys are. Wouldn't be surprised if for most, this is a legitimate religion disguised as another."

Well, Tim was right - it didn't help them immediately, but it gave a bit of insight. These guys have been around for a while, but now the question is why they're popping up now, and if it's because of this 'Red Dawn', then they absolutely have to find out what that means before time is up. However, amongst the investigation, another question eventually pops up, and one that almost feels foolish to skip over.

Where are the bodies from the people who were involved with this cult, but ended up killing themselves when caught-?

Then, Bruce's phone rings just as he's about to contact Gordon. It's not a number he recognizes, but something, for some reason not even he can explain, compels him to pick it up.

Before Bruce himself can even try to resist, the button is already pressed.

[The person on the other end clears their throat before speaking. “Hello? This is Detective Greenwood, and to my understanding, this is Batman’s number?”]

Of course, naturally, Bruce doesn’t say anything. More or less just… confused. Was this even real? How could anyone expect him to believe that the detective that’s been absent for nearly four days, maybe even longer, is only now trying to show up? Talk about convenience. Not to mention priorities and dedication.

[The man on the other end sighs. “Well, if this is the right number or not, I’ll find out soon enough. I’ve heard you're not exactly a patient man, so I’ll keep this short- just for you. Meet me at the diner on fifth. It’s getting late, I know. Place is about to close, but I’ll be here until it does. If it’s closed when you decide to come by? I’ll be at the station, cleaning up the mess.” A beat of silence passes, and a small clinking sound could be heard before he adds, “I’m sure you’re aware we don’t have much time, but hey. The choice is yours.”]

With that, the call ends, and Bruce is momentarily left in silence. Everyone else is doing their own thing and trying to figure out a plan of action they all agree upon but this… this could change things – but that all depends on what this detective knows. The timing itself is a little more than suspicious, and while you had apparently mentioned the detective’s arrival earlier, being gone for so long, and during a time like this no less… almost nothing could make Bruce any less trusting of this. While he trusted your credibility somewhat – and that’s mostly due to Clark being able to back up the information you’ve been able to provide thus far – there’s no telling if this detective had any new information they haven’t figured out already.

… Yet with the time they have, and their lack of knowledge of what it even means, they didn’t exactly have the time to be nitpicky – and though it was highly unlikely, having someone explain or give a clue as to what this ‘Red Dawn’ even is would also be useful.

A rough sigh escapes Bruce, and from that alone, the room goes quiet. Glancing at the timer on the holographic screen of the Batcomputer, he takes a second or so before getting to work. “Dick, you’re coming with me to see this… detective. Selina, go with Damian to see where the bodies are. Jason and Cassandra? …Don’t follow too close behind.” They didn’t exactly have time to argue, and with Duke, Stephanie, and Tim doing something else? This’ll have to do.

Regardless, even if some disagreements and such are made, they all set out, and into the unforgiving city once again.

Knowing the area like the back of your hand certainly had its perks, and finding the diner itself isn’t very hard. Though before they can even think about stepping inside, the sheer emptiness inside the establishment is… not one any of them are familiar with. Not during a time like this, and especially not when there’s a bar inside the establishment. To say they’d stand out would be putting it nicely, but the invitation is already given once the single patron in the diner notices the only two visible figures outside and for them to come in.

Playing along never feels good, but what choice do they have? Besides, as if knowing something, Dick is the one that takes the first step forward. Bruce slides into the booth last.

Conversation sparks up, and it goes about as well as one would expect. The obvious questions are asked, but nothing notable or of any real importance is given. Greenwood only apologizes for his absence, gives little reasoning for it aside from ‘being caught up with something’ – as that’s something noteworthy, and yet not even Bruce has been informed of it. So, things are off to a great start.

Almost seemingly out of habit, Greenwood offers anything he can, only to be declined – something he just shrugs off before taking a stip of his coffee, or what looks to be something like it, as despite the hint of color Bruce swears he can see in the mug, it’s too dark to be much else. Still, all too aware of the time limit they’re working on, Bruce gets straight to the point, and Greenwood follows right along. As if to ease things, he even offers for the pair to call him John. Hm. That’s the first name he’s gotten out of the new batch without looking through records.

Strangely enough, Greenwood takes the time to even reassure them, saying of the waiter – the only employee visible at the moment, is blind. So they won’t have to worry about anyone spreading any rumors about seeing the Big Bat and Nightwing themselves in a diner late at night. When Dick remarks about passerbys, Greenwood only says, “A friend of mine’s got that handled.”

When Bruce understandably asks, “And who is this ‘friend’ of yours.”

Greenwood strangely responds with, “Well, I can’t say much for a list of reasons. But they’ve got a way with people, and even got me your number. That’s all you’ve got to know.” Pushing up the shades he wore all the while. There was no need for him, but the detective never made a move to take them off. Like they were a part of him.

To say the conversation got any more useful from there would be a lie. Greenwood treats it too casually, almost infuriatingly so considering the situation they’re in, but Bruce is able to remain patient despite it all, and Dick looks like he’s biting his tongue. Though, as if catching wind of this, the detective decides to finally move things in a meaningful direction, and offers for them to head to the station – which is conveniently when the diner was about a minute or so away from closing. Which, Bruce takes notice of how Greenwood pays as they move to stand. A Rose Bank card, huh? That’s… new.

Even as both vigilantes readily take the opportunity to meet the detective at the station, and in his office, the quietness at the city gnaws at Bruce.

Of course it bothers him more than he’ll ever let on, but it gets to him all the same. It doesn’t help that Bruce can’t explain it, but the silence itself feels like a taunt of sorts. Like a jab at him specifically – a show of how in all his years of being Batman and trying to look after this city for as long as he has, it’s only now, under mysterious circumstances and in the midst of this disaster of a situation, is the city finally quiet. Even if it’s not in the way Bruce wants it to be. Especially since it’s not the way Bruce would have wanted it to be.

Whoever’s behind this has got a real funny sense of humor, Bruce will give them that.

… Eventually, Greenwood reappears and greets the pair – seemingly unfazed by the fact that they’re already in his office, even if he does make a show of acting a little shocked. Hm.

“I assume you’ve gone through the files I’ve had out already?” It’s a promising start, at least. Especially when compared to being offered coffee just moments before.

Still, Bruce just narrows his eyes, and Dick remains… oddly quiet – something that’s starting to make Bruce question if he made the right choice with bringing him along. Though, there’s no time for regrets now, is there? “Among other things. Your investigation has been…”

“Confusing? Nonsensical? Well… I can’t really blame you there. Everything dealing with them seems odd at best. Alien, perhaps, at worst.”

Bruce raises a brow under the cowl, only for them to furrow a second after. “Alien?”

Greenwood nods, “Put simply, yes. Some of the rituals performed by this group in the past have made little to no sense, and can vary in… well, intensity, so to speak. I’m sure you’ve heard about what happened the other day? It’s unfortunate and upsetting, yes- but it does tie into a theme this group seems to exhibit with everything they do.” Opening a file, he lays it out on the table, and the pictures shown are not for the faint of heart. To even say they were grotesque is putting it lightly. “Sacrifice.”

“... The human sacrifice kind?” Dick asks, but for a strange reason, Bruce already gets the feeling his son knows the answer – something that only makes him more unsure of all this, even if, strangely enough, a part of him is starting to almost accept it?

Regardless, Greenwood shakes his head. “Not quite, even if I don’t blame you for jumping to that straight away. Their version of sacrifice seems more… personal, or at least to differ greatly depending on the ritual. It’s hard to say what people are making these sacrifices for- but if you’ve talked with anyone who may be in this group, their reasons tend to differ. Like they were all promised something that caters to them specifically, and thus whatever it is, through these rituals- they are making the necessary sacrifice for it. Such as their eyes, legs, arms, heart, soul-”

“Life.” Bruce finishes, and Greenwood nods. Though, with all of this, only one question seems obvious. “How does the head of the group even know what someone would be willing to make such big sacrifices for? Especially if they’re all personalized.”

“That’s where the weird part comes in, since… well, in all my time as a detective working on this case- I haven’t been able to figure that out. At a certain point, they seem to just know.”

Bruce’s brows further knit together, and his eyes narrow further, “That doesn’t make any sense-”

[“Hey~ Bats? Yeah… you know those bodies you had me and the kid snoop around for-? Which, you owe me big time for this, just fyi.” Selina’s voice rings through the commlink.]

Bruce pauses, left staring at Greenwood while Dick glances at him. The detective raises a brow.

[“Well, we’ve only got a couple of empty caskets from the couple of thugs that were from Gotham, just a bunch of that weird powder you’ve been obsessing over.” There’s a brief pause before she adds, “Kid thinks this is how they make the stuff. If so, with all the followers they have, and assuming they’re just as ‘devoted’ as the one’s we’re looking for? I think we’re way in over our heads here, B.”]

The vigilante didn’t even get a chance to respond, as an odd smirk grew on Greenwood’s face. “That’s the signal, huh? Damn, and here I thought I’d get a few more minutes in. Such a shame, you folk are really on top of things. Reminds me a bit of myself in my earlier days, honestly.” A sickening pop sounds, followed by the sickening echo of cracks and grinding bones as John’s arm extends unnaturally long.

His fingers become as thin as pencil tips, only to get filled as some sort of mass builds from the inside, and grows so large it strains the skin until it pops. Strings of nerves try to reconnect where they shouldn’t, muscle moves to almost reconstruct a stronger, larger arm - with bits of left over skin and flesh moving with it. Nothing ever stops moving, like it can’t ever settle in one spot, and the sheer mass of it all can be seen moving and writhing under John’s skin. Trying to spread itself over parts of his body with its gift.

Finally, he removes his shades, and reveals irises with a pale star pattern that shouldn’t be possible. Something that flickers and moves, with the sclera pulsating with prominent, red veins that only seem to be itching their way closer to the iris with each growth of flesh his body manages to create and sustain. Like a parasite itching to feed, and having been left to starve, it latches onto the side of his face, and practically devours his eye lid - revealing the muscle underneath, and using the mass of the skin to add to the muscular arm – which can hardly hold itself at the end, and comes undone in a pile of fleshy, squelching tendrils that wiggle and inch towards the heroes.

“Well, it’s as they say.” John chuckles, voice already breaking apart, and already beginning to sound wrong in every way. “It’s parents who make the ultimate sacrifice for their children.”

With that, the amalgamation of flesh in human form vaults over the desk, and grins as it launches itself forward, ”IT'S TIME FOR ME TO SEE MY LITTLE GIRL! You surely understand, don’t you, Man of BATS?!” A giggle in too high of a pitch escapes it, and more teeth could be seen peeking out from its gums.

Bruce and Dick are quick to dodge out of the way, and Cassandra is quick to use her cloak to cut all the lights in the station, but the office itself is left in a darkness only the blackness of space could replicate. Jason quickly jumps in, and the four get to work to subdue the creature.

The fight itself is a gross sight for numerous reasons. Acid is spit from the bellows of the organism's stomach, and yet sticks to any surface like a thick layer of pus. The flesh that makes up its arm travels along the body it now puppets, and tries to grab and become a part of all who come into contact with it. Even as shots and countless blows are done to it, all it does is laugh as it continuously launches itself forward haphazardly – as if chasing some sort of high. The fat of the torso is taken for tendrils that shoot out of its back and more flesh to enhance its own combat ability. The muscle and bone of the legs is consumed to enlarge the ribs and spine - making a whole other mouth that’s all bone and made vertically come out of it, and where the organs have moved to? Who’s to say.

Even as it’s thrown through the glass of the office, and the scratches make the thing bleed, it moves to stand and continue the fight – as if it can’t feel anything else, or, rather, it’s so focused on chasing that it’s able to ignore the pain? It’s hard to say, but laughs begin to mix with shrieking screams that ripped its throat and ruptured the stomach.

It was all messy, sloppy, and at some point, most were rushing to find a means to light it on fire – and when the opportunity came in the boiler room, and the most unlikely of them flicked the match as he tried to catch his breath? The nightmare refused to go down without the last say, despite never being given such a luxury.

“IT’S TOO LATE! THE NEW DAWN IS BOUND TO RISE, AND ONCE IT DOES WE WILL ALL BE REWARDED!! THE SUN, DRESSED IN RED SEES ALL, AND NOTHING CAN STOP IT! ALL PREPARATIONS HAVE ALREADY BEEN MADE! THE WATERS ARE BOILING! THOSE NOT AWAKENED WILL SEE! THE CHILDREN WILL SING ONCE AGAIN! AHAHA! THE EARTH COULD STOP ON ITS AXIS AND IT WOULDN’T STOP THE RE-”

Only for its violating, cries of praise to its lord and religion to swiftly be cut off by nothing but a bullet to its melting head that's flesh was tearing away at the skull of the human that once remained underneath.

“Thank god, he finally shut up-” Jason scoffed, only to cough as the smoke began to rise and he rushed out – following the others.

Outside of the station, they all tried to catch their breath. Beaten one way or another, but alive, and untouched. Still human, in spite of everything, and breathing through their own healthy lungs that weren’t nearly pulsating out of their chests.

The quiet streets remain, leaving only them. Yet, it didn’t seem to bother them now. They almost don’t notice it, and despite no words being spoken, they all come to a collective understanding.

When the commlink crackles to life, Bruce hardly reacts, and when he hears his youngest son’s voice – he feels like he knows everything just before he speaks.

[“Father?”]

“Yes… we understand now, too.” So, with this new information, and more being fed to them, they all head back home together. Now knowing what must be done, even without all the pieces put together. Almost as if, in a way, they just know now. Like something is telling them, and the more it gives. The more they need it.

The waters of the Earth begin to boil as it prepares to cry, one last time.

[sungiescheotluv]

champagne supernova ⭑.ᐟ park jisung

pairing: park jisung x gender neutral reader

word count: 4.2k

tags/warnings: fluff, friends to lovers, emo(ish) jisung, non-idol au.

summary: making friends as an adult is difficult. luckily for you, the rock/alternative online community welcomes you with open arms, one person in particular catching your interest.

notes: hi thereee! 😁 back again with another jisung fic, one that i actually came up with myself lmao. since getting back into the dreamies, i've been a bit surprised by (but absolutely love) jisung's taste in music. hence this silly fic, which i do hope you enjoy! thank you so much for all your recent support, it makes my heart smile whenever you like or comment on a post! anyways, happy reading! much loveeeee! <3

The concept of internet safety is lost on you. How else could you explain sharing a hotel room with someone you’d never met before in real life? 

Perhaps, you should retrace your steps. See how you’ve managed to find yourself in such a dangerous position, the front door locked and your body pinned to the bed.

Making friends as an adult is difficult. On par with counting every grain of rice in a field, you’d say.

You underestimated how easy maintaining friendship was when younger, third places like school, daycares, extra-curricular activities demanding your presence, inadvertently strengthening your social life. Not that you were the most social, you had a hard time approaching people actually, but maybe that was a part of your charm. Bringing you out of your shell, like all your friends did before your bond was cemented in tree trunks or sandy beaches. University is the last place you take this ease for granted, exposed to all different kinds of people and relationships, some platonic and not-so much. Either way, despite the barge of assignments and countless nights out, you’d make it into adulthood relatively unscathed.

Adulthood, however, doesn’t turn out as you expect. You’d been sold a dream, one eight-year old you envisioned dabbling with the stars accompanied by a lavish life and all the ice-cream you could get your hands on. Unfortunately, no star would be rubbing shoulders with you anytime soon and any that would, you’d have to pay a large sum of money to even see. A large sum you did not have. So, yeah. Just that, toxic work culture, endless bills and a whole host of other obligations linger above your head like a grey cloud.

What helps is finding the small joys in life. Slow mornings when the city is asleep, the scent of coffee at the crack of dawn, the sunshine against your skin, friends who despite their busy schedules carve out time to see you. All pieces of your life that make it worth living. Music is in there too, the art of melodies and lyrics strung together having the strange ability to carry you throughout even your worst days.

Your moods refuse to stick to a certain genre and in the midst of dark afternoons and frost covered roads, you find yourself gravitating towards alternative music. Slow, steady and aching. Like how your life moves with the severe lack of sun. It’s not a genre your circle of friends dabble in as much as you do. It’s to be expected, anyone who deviates from a standard of ‘normalcy’ was outcasted, one too many examples found in your high school days where kids got called weird and satanic for wearing a Green Day t-shirt to school. The thought makes you laugh now, but back then, when all that matters is fitting in, it was sad and suffocating. Seeing a part of yourself denied before your very eyes. Sometimes you’d hang out with those kids, bond over your collection of CDs and even go to a few gigs together. However, when Monday came around and they’d approach you and your friends, raving about the concert - you froze. Confronted into either owning yourself and being outcasted like the rest of the emo kids or ignoring them, deny yourself for the sake of social standing. 

You pretend like they’ve grown two heads, feigned confusion knitting your eyebrows together while your friends laugh and hurl insults at someone who you considered a friend - a better one than the ones at your side. And yet, you let the laughter continue, a coward with its tail between its legs as you depart, the taste of iron on your tongue.

Maybe this is payback for those poor decisions. A dead-end job, a successful but shitting ex and enough inner turmoil to make a therapist clutch their pearls. 

You abandon those friends when you get to university, getting better ones that wouldn’t make someone feel small due to their own insecurities. You make amends with the emo kids, your apology marking the true end of your friendship. You search online spaces for like-minded people, showing up as yourself and being embraced as. Everyone in the Reddit community is unbelievably sweet, sharing their music recommendations, concert wishlists and pictures of their cats. Some members, including yourself, form a closer bond, taking your conversation to a Discord server that becomes your escape in a way. A channel for heartfelt discussion that extends past your love for music. You’re not as active due to work obligations, but whenever you pop up, one member in particular always greets you with a warmth like no other. 

Linkin.parkjisung is his user, his icon the rock and roll hand sign over his face. Likes Blur, Green Day, Oasis and of course, Linkin Park. He’s like you, dips in and out, types a few responses before he’s gone again. It’s a scenario where other members grow closer, and your anxiety around speaking in the group begins. They’re already close, it seems almost futile to interrupt, right? 

What if you’re ignored? What if you’ve missed your window of opportunity? 

It’s a line of thinking that crosses your mind when you send in an apology for being inactive, moments later your phone pinging with a notification.

Linkin.parkjisung: no need to apologize! life gets busy for everyone, myself included. hope you’re doing ok (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ

Other group members echo his message, sending in their own real-life obligations that the group ends up bonding over, complaining of rising car insurance and overly demanding bosses. 

It’s the start of it all, really. That one message, a hand extended to yours that breaks you out of your shell and kick starts your friendship with Jisung. From that day onwards, you move more freely throughout the server, making good friends with everyone but better friends with Jisung. Somewhere down the line, you end up privately messaging each other. What starts out as simply giving each other music recommendations (since he apparently always loves the songs/artists you send into the server) becomes sneaking into the bathroom during a busy family reunion to call Jisung about how your grandmother wore a catsuit to impress her ex, your grandfather. You grow that close, no details spared on life events. How else is there space for secrecy when you’re video calling drunk, watching festival performances of Fontaines D.C.?

In any case, you’re close. You text everyday and call every week like clockwork, namely because you live some hours away from each other. During your calls, he’s shrouded in a low darkness, self conscious of the way he looks, he says. You’re unconvinced, slivers of his features in photos he sends you with his roommates’ three cats or on call saying otherwise. Regardless, you let it slide because Jisung becomes more than his face - he becomes a source of comfort, someone who makes you laugh as much as brings you calm, someone you slowly can’t imagine your days without. In hindsight, this is where your romantic feelings develop. And with convenient timing too because one of the bands you recommended to Jisung, Wunderhorse are on tour, set to perform in a city two hours from the both of you.

“Tickets are going onsale at 10 am on Thursday,” Jisung murmurs, the clicks of his cursor coming through your laptop speaker. “Remember to set your alarm.”

“Will do. Lemme set a remin-” opening up your calendar, you see an unwelcome surprise. “Fuck.”

“What’s up?” Jisung’s voice echoes with sincere concern.

“I forgot I have a shift that day,” you groan, already knowing by the time your lunch break came, the event would be sold out. “We’re understaffed as is, so there’s no way I can get someone to cover for me.”

A deep hum vibrates from Jisung’s chest, a few more clicks of his cursor sounding before he asks in a small voice. “Well, I could just get the tickets for us both.”

“You would?”

“Yeah, I’m meant to be working from home that day anyways. And not to flex, but my internet’s pretty decent.”

You laugh. “Is that for your job or your crippling gaming addiction?”

“A bit of both,” he chuckles back, the sound blooming a warmth of happiness in your chest. “Working in CompSci has its perks.”

“So, I’m finding out,” you smile, an underlying layer of discomfort shifting you against your desk chair. “Are you sure, though?”

“Of course. I’d hate if you lost out on this knowing I could’ve done something to help,” Jisung explains. “You were the one to introduce me to them anyways. Plus we’d have a better chance of sticking together in the pit if we get them together, right?”

You swallow a lump in your throat, something taking flight in your airy chest. “Yeah, you’re right. Just send me your bank details so I can transfer you the day of.”

“Coming right up!” he jokes, and you laugh, however lame he claims himself to be.

On Thursday, he sends you a photo of his solid black high-tech set-up, a PC he’s constructed himself with more monitors than you can count. The side of his face is included in the picture, silky black hair, a brown eye and a beauty mark on his cheekbone you dream of kissing later that night. You find out he secures the tickets on your lunch break, your debt towards him being booking the hotel you’d be staying at. Due to the limited funds you’re working with, you end up getting a shared room, an option that gives him pause before he agrees in a tremored voice. You’re a bit apprehensive yourself, but you booked for two beds, so it should be fine. If worst comes to worst, and something happens between you two – like him turning out to be a sexist neckbeard loser he couldn’t take no for an answer - you’d sleep in your car (or kick him out, actually). At any rate, you had options (and a friend tracking your live location).

In no time, weeks fly by and Wunderhorse drops their latest album. It’s the best thing you’ve experienced since sliced bread, an opinion Jisung shares as you two listen to it over call late one Friday night, speaking about your favourite songs amongst other things. You don’t know how it starts, perhaps it’s a lyric that sticks out to him that he mentions or something else entirely, but suddenly, you’re reminded of high school you. How deeply you wanted to be accepted by others, and how that satisfaction depended on the person you got it from. That you preferred conformity instead of individuality, because being seen with popular shallow kids meant something to you.

“I wasn’t a good person in high school,” you find yourself admitting, your body hollowed out with guilt. Regret like ash on your tongue. “I hurt people because I valued other people’s opinions over my own. I know I was young, but-”

“You said it yourself: you were young,” Jisung comments, the serious intent in his voice catching you off guard. “The fact you recognise your behaviour and feel remorse for it shows how much you’ve grown. I mean, high school can be very unforgiving because nobody really knows who they are or what the fuck they’re doing, so it’s only reasonably to make choices you may regret. What’s important, I think, is how you’ve chosen to move forward,”

“You said it yourself, you’ve apologised to those you hurt. Not many, if any person in your position, would do the same, which shows how much you genuinely care to make things right,” you sniff, vision blurring with tears of relief and sadness. “So, if you ask me, I think you’re being a bit hard on yourself. It’s all a learning curve, you were doing what was best to protect yourself then. And now, you’re a better and kinder person because of it.”

Another time you should’ve known you’d fallen for him. Yet, you remain none the wiser. All the way until concert day, getting off work early that Friday afternoon and making the journey down to the bright city lights of Seoul. Everything twinkles and dazzles, a 180 from your modest living in your hometown. You suppose your excitement for the concert has some role in this too, but considering the lack of vibrancy in your life, you allow yourself to sink your teeth into this. Feel the goosebumps against your skin, the lightness in your limbs and the uptake in your heartbeat.

You check into the hotel first since Jisung has a last-minute team meeting at work, setting yourself up on your side of the cosy room of wooden and white hues. As you slip on your Hello Kitty headband to do skincare, a knock rasps against the door, audible above the sound of your music.

With furrowed eyebrows, you approach the door, revealing a sight that stops your heart in its tracks.

On the other side of the door is who you should’ve expected: Jisung. What you don’t expect, however, is his sharp features, black smooth hair with matching formal clothing to contrast so beautifully with his porcelain skin. The dark, ocean blue contacts he wears with a pretty pink lip tint. Not to mention that beauty mark you’ve been thirsting over for the past few months? Yeah, that’s all in eye-view now, close enough to touch and it’s this fact that sends your brain into overdrive.

While you malfunction, Jisung dips his head, a large fist curled to his lips to hide his sheepish smile. Chuckles in a bit of an awkward and embarrassed way. 

Oh my god?!

“Nice to finally meet you,” he greets, black leather overnight bag clutched to his side. A fluffy blue and pink keychain of Little Twin Stars hangs off the zip, a cute juxtaposition to his intimidating outfit. And height. God, he really wasn’t lying when he said he was nearly 6 ft. 

“I texted you I’d arrived, but you hadn’t read them,”

A forceful blink out of your trance brings you back to reality, one where you’re not openly drooling over how handsome your internist best friend is. “Yeah, sorry. I was busy getting ready.”

“I figured so,” his eyes scan your clothes - your ripped baggy jeans, leather platform shoes amongst what you have on - and his lips curve, admiration in his eyes. “You look great.”

If there weren’t societal ideals of an inappropriate reaction to that compliment, you would’ve tattooed it to your forehead, or on your lower back. Maybe ripped off your shirt and kissed him before combusting because what do you mean, this very handsome man, thinks you look great?!

“Thank you,” you blush, your body running hot like a furnace. Even so, you decide to take advantage of the situation, leaning in for an embrace that he reciprocates as you mumble into his shoulder. “Nice to finally meet you too.”

The rest of the afternoon blurs, the few moments of scattered glances and awkward silence incomparable with the ease of conversation that flows between you once his favourite song, Poppy, comes on. Catching up to speed with each other’s day as you two get ready, it’s not lost on you how domestic the scene is - how familiar, or right it feels. Jisung, in all aspects of the word, is endearing - flustered by the compliments you send his way, brightening up at the new additions to the setlist and best of you, timid with pink cheeks when he hands over a ‘first meeting’ gift - an assortment of snacks, a Hello Kitty plushie and a card that makes you coo. It takes everything in you not to sink your teeth into him, overwhelmed by the sweetness that laces his actions and words, riding the high he and the music gives you as you make your way to the venue after you’re both finished.

Long lines snake around the arena, grey clouds permeating the area as rainfall clatters to the pavement. Jisung, ever so prepared, brings along an umbrella that you share, squeezing underneath so much you feel the warmth of Jisung through his bare, very defined bicep. How someone looks so good in a silver sequin top under a tattered sleeveless black vest is beyond you. Then again, him being single is beyond your comprehension too. Considering his calm and thoughtful demeanour, coupled with his good looks, you would’ve expected people lining up by the thousands to plead their case. However, whenever you two talked about this, he’d simply say his go-to phrase and change the topic, his phrase being:

“I’ve got my eye on someone. Just working up the courage to ask them out.”

Whoever managed to catch his eye, you’d thought to be lucky. Maybe they’d saved a small village in their past life because as people push when the doors open, Jisung shields you from any damage, reminding you how good of a romantic partner he could be. Especially so when you’re inside and he snaps all your photos, accompanying you to the bar and merch table where you get matching t-shirts before he keeps them with him so you’re free throughout the concert. Dimmed red lights and chatter fill the spacious hall, a flood of warm bodies surrounding you as you peer at the stage, the band all set up and ready to go come showtime. You sing along to the host of songs the venue plays beforehand, enough nudges in the shoulder to get Jisung to sing along and of course - of course - he has a beautiful voice too. At this point, you were convinced he either had a missing toe or had weird opinions about the order of cereal because the more you spent time with him, the more he shines in your eyes.

Eventually, the chatter dies down and all lights go off, screams rising through the crowd as Wunderhorse comes onto the stage. Buzzing at a frequency unheard of, you bounce off the balls of your feet, hand holding Jisung as you exclaim, “It’s them! It’s really them!”

Missing how flushed Jisung becomes at the contact, you sing with all your heart - offkey and all - to their opening song, Midas. The energy is through the roof, a dizzying world of flashing lights and music that retches the lyrics straight out of you. In a moment’s chance, Jisung and you turn to each other mid-song, smiles bright as the stage lights outline your damp faces, chest heaving with a mouthful of lyrics in their wake. It’s the happiest you’ve been, holding his hand like this, and as the night winds to simmer, you sway to slow songs and thank your lucky stars for finding your way back to this.

After the show, you two chatter with other adoring fans before trekking to your nearby hotel, stomachs growling for food. Jisung finds a great Chinese place that delivers until 2 am, a gesture you simper at, unaware he’d even remembered you’d liked the cuisine. At this point, you’re drained in the best possible way, a dull ache in your feet but riding a high of something you’ll remember forever. 

Now, you’re up to speed. Great. Let’s get back to your current dilemma.

Somehow, someway, your unlaced and stubborn platform shoes cause a stumble, one that Jisung tries to save you from but ends up caught in the mix. How, you might ask? Well, you’re not entirely sure but what you definitely know is that you’ve fallen on one of the beds, Jisung’s body caging yours as he braces his own fall. Face-to-face. With you.

Ok.

You’re close enough to share a breath, within reach to see his long lashes and shaky pupils that dart from your eyes to your lips, back to your eyes again. Suddenly, the room temperature dials to an unprecedented heat, walls closing in on you two as you lie in waiting. Waiting for the other to make their move. To lean in or pull away, heads or tails on a coin.

His phone rings, cutting through the tension-filled air with a knife. The moment, gone. 

“You okay?” he rasps, a knit in his eyebrows as if he’s holding himself back. You blink wordlessly, your answer in an absent nod. “I’ll, uhm…get the food.”

It’s not a suggestion, nothing that you can object to, particularly when he’s long gone and you’re clutching at your chest, months of infatuation knocking the breath out of you.

When Jisung returns minutes later, you’ve turned the TV on, preparing to fill the silence if need be. It proves necessary, only groans of pleasure and compliments to the chef shared between you two as you eat your weight in noodles. Not much is said when you’re getting ready for bed either, brushing your teeth together as if you're a couple and settling into separate beds, all the lights turned off.

Still reeling for the fall, and convinced his shallow breaths allude to his slumber, you’re startled by the call of your name, head turning towards Jisung beside you.

“Yes?”

“You sure you’re ok?” he asks before clearing his throat. “That was…some fall.”

You can say that again.

“I’m ok,” you lie. You’re on high alert, frazzled at every end with a heart you’ve just realised longs for the man not even two metres away from you. “Are you?”

Silence. The only feedback you hear is the crinkle of his duvet as he shuffles in his bed.

“Ask me another question.”

You turn to him, shrouded in darkness. “Like what?”

He doesn’t speak again, lets the silence devour the space between you before he says. “Ask me about the person I’m interested in.”

Water that rivals the arctic pours down your back, a harsh call to reality as you remember. Right, he has someone he’s interested in. Someone who he’ll devout his time to, listen to their music recommendations and hold their hands at concerts. And you? Well, you’ll still be friends, but maybe not as close. Maybe not even friends at all.

The thought closes an iron fist around your heart.

“Why haven’t you asked them out?” is what you manage, because it’s on your mind - what time and place he’ll find himself in when he confesses his feelings.

“Because I’m scared,” he admits, small and in a whisper. “Considering we met online, it’s kind of hard to gauge their interest or read any signs. You don’t give me much to work with,”

You still. “I don’t?’

“I mean, I haven’t been too obvious, but I’m crazy about you,” he confesses. “I love the light in your eyes and the kindness in your heart. You’re so deeply human and live life like it’s your first and last. There’s no one like you and I think the idea of knowing how special you are triggered my fear of rejection. Because what would my life be without watching festival performances while drunk with you? What would it be if you didn’t laugh at my lame jokes and didn’t command my every thought?”

Jisung shuffles again, a flicker of dim light in between you two at a lamp source as he stares over at you, wholehearted and vulnerable. “It’d be an empty one - not worth living.”

Slowly, your body brings you upwards, the two of you hanging off the edges of your bed. So close if you’d reach out, your hands would touch. 

“When?” you croak, unable to meet his eyes. “When did you…start feeling this way?”

His eyes lower, a slight curve to the corner of his lips. “Around November?”

Electricity zaps your back straight. Five months ago? “When we joined the server?”

“Shortly after that,” he admits, a coy grin breaking out against his flushed features. “I was having a really hard day and you’d recommend a song in the chat, Favourite by Fontaines DC, and said how nostalgic and hopeful it felt to you. I gave it a listen and…it was like a battery in my back. I cried, but I also smiled too because I understood what you meant by it all,”

He threads his fingers together, peering up with shining eyes as he adds, “it felt like a peak into your soul, and mine too….I think that’s where it started.”

Your hand finally reaches out, overlaying his as tears fill your sight. “You know you’re my favourite, right?”

“No one stood a chance after that drunk video of you singing along to Champagne Supernova,” you share a laugh, reminiscing of the video he accidentally sent into the server one December night. A die-hard Oasis fan till the end. “I mean it. There’s no one I’d want to spend my days with, listen to music with and discover all there is to life. No one but you.”

His bottom lip gives a wobble, hands unearthing from yours as his thumb grazes your knuckles, bringing the hand up in a searing kiss. One he looks you right in the eyes for as he says, “Can we push the beds together please?”

You bark out an unexpected laugh, fondness shaping your smile as you speak with all of your heart. “I would love nothing more.”

[once-in-a-blue-moon-rising]

Seen a few 'maturity is realising that it's not a look of love' videos on Instagram re: 457, and while I do realise it is Not That Deep, I nonetheless have THOUGHTS

The crux of those thoughts is this: has fandom's view of shipping narrowed so far that unless two characters are mashing their faces together on-screen, it's immature to interpret the text contrary to what we assume the creator's intention was?

With this ship specifically, let's start with the obvious: the actors have insane chemistry. This is true whether you see the characters' bond as platonic, romantic, antagonistic, or something else. They are very obviously comfortable and friendly with one another in real life, and this translates into an intense on-screen relationship between Gi-hun and In-ho (and I'm sure this is exactly what the director did want, because, newsflash, this is our protagonist/antagonist duo).

I do think it's valid to ship something based purely off the actors' chemistry, but the comment is obviously referring to the characters themselves in the context of the story, so let's address that too.

There's a clear motivation for the way In-ho stares at Gi-hun, follows him around, and generally tries to insert himself into his life, and this is what these posts are referring to. He's testing his ideology, he's watching how he's affected by the horrific things that are happening around him, and to help him do this, he's ensuring that Gi-hun trusts and likes him. It's important if he wants to prove to him that the world is unchangeable, and humanity irredeemable.

And because of that, it's not the 'look of love'. Case closed?

Well, no.

Because there is so much nuance and depth that you're failing to explore, if a look can only mean one thing.

Because why does In-ho bother? Why is Gi-hun worth his time and interest? In-ho - via the games - has access to resources that far far outweigh the money Gi-hun won. He could prevent him from finding the island forever. He could just have him shot tbh. He's not really a credible threat - at most, he's a minor annoyance, because people need to be paid off every so often to prevent him getting too close.

Just through this detail, we can deduce that In-ho cares, in some way. He is interested enough to want to change Gi-hun's mind, when it would be so much easier to... not. Is it love? It's certainly fascination. And I don't think it can be argued that he brought him back for the VIPs' entertainment and not his own, because Gi-hun was searching for three years before In-ho let himself be found. And even when he's found, it's Gi-hun who suggests going back into the games.

So these stares - yes, he's testing him, but he's doing it because he wants to. They denote genuine interest. How did this guy retain his hope and faith in humanity? How can I prove to him that my view is correct?

And I'm very much not saying that a romantic interpretation is 'correct', because fiction should be interpreted however the audience sees fit, but what is love (in all its forms) if not wanting to know someone and be known by them?

This is even more compelling to me when we take into account In-ho's backstory, which we learn a bit more about in season 2. Because he and Gi-hun are so similar, except in the way they've used their trauma to interpret the world. Which just adds to the evidence that In-ho would be fascinated by this man, be determined to know him and to change his mind.

What I'm saying with all this isn't that 457 is canon, and that anyone who says otherwise is media illiterate. What I'm saying is that the real immature interpretation is one that's surface level, be that interpretation 'uwu he loves him' or 'he's PLOTTING evil things'.

[yapihapi]

Rin’s autism as a quiet, enigmatic classmate has you, the class president, worried.

As the class president, your top priority is your classmates’ welfare. Naturally, you’re drawn to Rin—the quiet boy sitting near the window, always by himself. He doesn’t seem interested in making friends, yet you can’t help but notice him. Despite his reserved nature, he plays soccer exceptionally well and has a surprising number of admirers. But that doesn’t change the fact that he prefers to stay in the background.

When your homeroom adviser tells you that Rin has autism, you felt a deeper sense of responsibility for him. You took it upon yourself to sit beside him, making small but consistent efforts to support him. You’d greet him with a smile each morning, check on him when he seemed lost in thought, and ensure he wasn’t left out during group activities. At lunch, you started packing extra food, just in case he forgot to bring any. While your classmates noticed your attentiveness, they couldn’t help but speculate—some even assuming there was something more between you two.

Your bond deepened during an entrepreneurship project, where you and Rin had to innovate a dish together. The two of you worked at your house, running through trial-and-error attempts to perfect your recipe. You were surprised to discover Rin’s talent for cooking. He handled the kitchen with precision, focusing on the dishes with a quiet confidence.

Wanting to contribute, you began chopping vegetables, only to accidentally nick your finger. It wasn’t a deep cut, but blood started to pool quickly. Hoping not to disturb Rin, you tried to hide it. However, Rin noticed immediately. Without a word, he took your hand and guided you to the sink. His touch was firm yet careful as he washed the cut under cold water. Then, digging into his bag, he retrieved a single bandage and knelt slightly to wrap it around your finger with an almost professional gentleness.

“Be more careful next time,” he muttered, his tone cool and detached. “That was my last bandage.”

Unbeknownst to you, there were four more bandages tucked in his bag—he always carried extras just in case you needed them.

For the first time, you noticed something beyond Rin’s quiet demeanor. His actions weren’t just attentive; they were deliberate. The others said he was distant, even cold, but you could see now how differently he treated you.

From Rin’s perspective, he wasn’t sure when it began, but he had started noticing you too—every little thing about you. The way you tilted your head when you didn’t understand something. How you fiddled with your earrings when nervous or tapped your fingers rhythmically against your notebook when deep in thought. The way your eyes sparkled when you aced a test, or how your lips quirked into a small smile whenever someone praised you—modest, yet undeniably pleased. The way you waved enthusiastically at your friends or other students instead of just smiling, worrying a simple smile wouldn’t convey enough warmth. How you absentmindedly twirled a strand of your hair when you were lost in your own thoughts. And the way your voice softened when comforting someone, like you instinctively knew how to make people feel safe.

As much as he tried to resist it, Rin realized he had grown fond of you. He didn’t see you as bothersome anymore, though he found it frustrating that your persistence had carved a space in his life. It felt instinctive now—like a reflex—to pay attention to you.

By the third attempt at your dish, you finally succeeded. Your face lit up with pure joy as you grinned cheekily, your eyes crinkling and almost disappearing. You nodded in approval, your head bobbing slightly with excitement. Rin watched you quietly from his spot, his gaze lingering on the way your energy seemed to fill every corner of the room.

For the first time, Rin felt something stir deep within him, something unfamiliar yet undeniable. His chest tightened as he realized it wasn’t just admiration or curiosity—it was more. In that moment, you weren’t just his class president or the persistent girl who wouldn’t leave him alone. You were something far more significant, something that made him feel both uneasy and strangely drawn to you at the same time.

Note: Although Rin’s autism isn’t officially stated, I headcanon or interpret his behavior and personality as signs of it. Thank you for reading!

[ahotmesswithprivilege]

Ocean Eyes

paring: Bob Floyd x female!bartender!reader

wordcount: 2642 (scandalously short for me, I know)

prompt: “It’s like you never really see me. I’m standing right in front of you and you don’t see me!” requested by @gretagerwigsmuse (I am sorry this took so long. I hope it was worth the wait)

note: I couldn't write so I started cleaning up my WIP folder and I found this. I forgot that it was practically done and so I thought, let's share my Bob debut with the world. I hope you'll enjoy it.

Trigger Warning(If I forgot something or you want me to add to the list, my inbox is wide open. You are responsible for your media consumption, so proceed with caution, you know the drill): none, I think. Unless you consider canon Hangster one. Also idiots in love.

|| Masterlist ||

divider by @sweetmelodygraphics banner by @firefly-graphics

Reblogs, comments and constructive criticism are always welcome

!!!Minors do not interact; empty/ageless/minors will get blocked!!!

You love Bob Floyd. It’s pretty obvious to anyone who has eyes. At least that’s what you always hear from your best friend and yet he showed never any interest in you at all. There is a part of you that realises that this could only mean one thing but acknowledging the hard truth would hurt more than anything. So you ignore it and keep living in the blissful illusion that maybe one day Lieutenant Robert Floyd will wake up and finally see you.

That is until tonight when that hope should be shattered for good. The night at the Hard Deck when you are dealt the final blow.

“Is that Baby on Board in that booth? Flirting with a woman?”, Hangman is leaning against the bar waiting for you to get a fresh round of drinks ready. The question is directed at Rooster to his right and your gaze follows his and you see Bob sitting in a booth with an absolutely gorgeous redhead.

“Yeah. Phoenix set him up with her old college friend”, Rooster answers, giving you that kind of cautious look that he always sent your way whenever he thought you were in a fragile state and could implode any second. And as if to justify his worries you slam their beers down a little harder than intended and when your gaze meets his, all you see is pity in his pretty brown eyes.

“Rooster”, your voice is barely there, more a growl rumbling in your chest than anything else. It's a warning for your best friend to keep his fucking mouth shut and leave you be.

Not that it would help.

It's something you both love and hate about Bradley Bradshaw. He was not someone who gave up on people. No, he stayed even when shit got hard and you knew he'd be right there by your side through it all, holding your hand and keeping you close because that's just who he is.

And considering the look you get from his worse half, you know the same is true for him. The irony that fucking Jake Seresin would one day be one of your best friends was not lost on you. Especially considering how the two of you started off, but having Hangman cover your back was apparently a perk that came with being Rooster's best friend.

"Don't"

But Brad just lifts his hands in surrender and then they head over to the pool tables where the others are already waiting for them, leaving you behind the bar with the feeling that the shards of your shattered heart were just digging deeper into your flesh with every breath.

“Hey, sunshine”, your head snaps to the side and there you see him sitting at the end of the bar smiling at you the way he always did. The way that made your heart skip a beat and you hated that fucking traitor of an organ. And then your brain intercepts and reminds you of the images of last night. The way she had her hands all over him, turning him into a blushing mess as they stumbled out of the bar.

You have to shake your head or you'd lose focus and you cannot afford that. Not on a Saturday night.

It's not like you need to wait for him to order something, you know it all by heart, so you set his usual virgin drink in front of him and put some nuts in a bowl. Both containers are hitting the bartop a tad bit harder than necessary and before he could get another word in you were already gone.

Your behaviour took him off guard. His eyes are still following you when you already busied yourself with the order of another patron at the other end of the bar as if you wanted to get as much space between you and him as you physically could and he couldn't help the unsettling feeling that crept up on him.

This was so not you. There's a reason why they call you sunshine and that's not just because Rooster introduced you like that. You were always sweet and kind and won over the position of the patron’s favourite from Penny within the first week. You always had a lovely smile on your lips and a nice comment for everyone.

But the thing he had always liked most about you was how protective you were, looking out for the people around you. You were just the kind of person who truly cared and didn't just turn it into a performance.

The longer you are lingering on the other end of the bar without giving him even as much of a glace the more uneasy he becomes ultimately deciding to pick up his things and make his way over to the quiet corner by the pool tables that had been dubbed his even back during his Top Gun time. And from over there he has the perfect view of the bar without the hustle and bustle that would only distract from his actual mission. Figure out what was wrong with you.

You seemed tense and your interactions were colder than usual even with people that he knew you loved to bits.

Dave, one of the veterans who frequented the bar had made it a habit to propose to you whenever he saw you. It was a running gag between the two of you but even he couldn't bring an honest smile to your face.

That sure as hell was a first.

Maybe something happened?

Had someone hurt you?

Or did something happen with your family?

The best way to find out was to talk to Rooster.

He was your best friend after all and if someone knew what was going on, then it would be him.

So, Bob waited patiently until he took a break from the pool game before approaching him.

“Is something wrong with sunshine?”

Rooster arches his brow at the question, stops drinking mid-swig and puts his bottle back down.

“What should be wrong with her?”

Bob tilts his head while he studies the other's features.

He couldn't be serious about that question. Rooster always claimed to know you best of them all and he honest-to-goodness wanted to tell Bob he didn't see what was going on.

“She’s curt and tense. She didn’t even smile at Dave's proposal”

Rooster’s brow arched even more.

God for someone as observant as Robert fucking Floyd he was pretty goddamn blind when it came to you.

“Even if there was something it wouldn't be my story to tell”, he raises his bottle back up and takes a sip of his beer, watching Bob’s mind running  100 miles an hour while he tried to figure out how to proceed.

“If you wanna know what’s going on there is a simple solution”, he prompts him. He had sworn to keep his mouth shut about your feelings for Bob but helping him figure it out on his own was not breaking that promise.

At least not in his book.

“And that would be?”

“Fucking ask her, Baby on board”

Jake groaned over from the pool table and rolled his eyes.

He was so done with this kindergarten bullshit. Watching you and Bob was worse than his dance with Rooster pre-uranium mission and he knew they had been unbearable to watch.

His boyfriend shoots Hangman an angry look as if to remind him of their promise but he just rolls his eyes and sighs.

Hangman likes you, a lot. Some might even go so far as to say he loves you. Very much platonic but it's love nonetheless.

You were a major part of Rooster’s life and therefore you became a fixture in his and if he had to listen to you crying yourself to sleep one more goddamn night over fucking Baby on Board then he’d be the one going on a bloody rampage.

So Jake stalked over to Bob and stared him right in his blue eyes, his green gaze cutting like a knife.

“That wasn’t a suggestion Floyd”, he growled, nodding over to where you handed out drinks at the bar, doing everything within your power to not look their way.

Bob had no idea why the other ganged up on him like that but he couldn’t remember the last time Hangman had been this mad. With his gaze flittering between the two men and you at the bar he decided it was indeed probably smartest to talk to you as soon as possible.

“Can you please get a box of whiskey from storage?”, you barely hear Penny’s voice over the constant chatter of the bar and the music coming from the jukebox when she hands you the key.

You had tried to keep your brain busy all night and lucky for you, the Saturday had provided you with enough to do to grant yourself a small reprieve from the pain that had settled in what was left of your heart after last night.

You nod at Penny and weave through the crowd in front of the bar, attempting to smile at the patrons that greeted you but you knew that this was just a facade and considering the many concerned looks, they knew too.

When you finally got to unlock the door of the storage closet stepping inside and pulling the door closed behind you as you were heaving a sigh the muffled sounds of the bar were still echoing in your ear. You loved this place and the Hard Deck had always felt more like home than the house you shared with Rooster and Hangman. You close your eyes and take a deep breath. The air was stuffy and full of dust but it was the closest to a break you could get just about now.

That was until the sudden creaking of the door made your heart rate pick up.

"This is for staff only", your eyes are wandering around to find something to use as a makeshift weapon just in case one of the guys got so drunk he forgot his manners and basic human decency. You find a large vodka bottle, pick it up from the shelf as you turn around, almost dropping it when you are met with blue eyes.

"Fuck Bob, you scared me", you place your free hand over your heart, putting the Vodka bottle on a small table.

"I'm sorry, sunshine", your eyes wander over him and it's only then that you see how he's not really daring to look into your eyes and he's fidgeting with his hands.

"What are you doing back here Bob?", you are crossing your arms over your chest and take another step back from him, almost making you hit the shelves full of liquor behind you.

He had never seen you so distanced and borderline standoffish around any of the daggers. You were someone who needed to be close, someone who thrived on touch and physical forms of affection, but you were fleeing from him and he couldn't have imagined something as simple as a step back to hurt that bad.

"I... I was wondering...", he started and then you were the third person today looking at him with an arched eyebrow and he felt like a first grader who's supposed to take his SAT.

"What were you wondering?", you said, the tense edge still audible in your voice sent a shiver down his spine.

Bob had never met this cold version of you and he hated every second of it. He loved your warmth, the way you were lighting up even the darkest room. You were the embodiment of a sweet summer day, full of sunshine and blooming flowers with enough of a breeze to make it perfect but right now you rivalled the worst arctic winter.

"Why are you so cold with everyone?"

"I am not"

"Of course you are. You didn't even smile at Dave's proposal", he sees the way your eyes get wider for only a moment before you put that facade back in place. So the real you was hiding somewhere behind that mask you put on.

"Yes I did"

"No, you didn't. Not for real"

The fact he had actually noticed took you by surprise, but the dull ache in your chest reminded you that just because he happened to notice one thing today it didn't mean that anything changed.

The silence hanging between the two of you was deafening and the longer it lasted the more nervous Bob got.

You two had never had an issue with talking. You were probably the one person he always felt like he could talk to even if he didn't feel like interacting with anyone else. But now it felt like you were two ships in the night, drifting farther and farther away apart.

"Please. I just want to...", his voice sounds pleading and the way he reaches his hand out for you prompts you to take another step back. You cannot handle his touch, that much you know but in your desperate attempt to keep the tears from running down your cheeks you forget that you have a mouth too.

“It’s like you never really see me", the words are spilling from your lips before you even realise it, hands flying to your mouth to stop yourself. The tears that were pricking at your lashline before began to run down your cheek when you see the way his eyes widen mouth opening and closing a few times before he finally finds his voice again.

"There hasn't been a single day when I didn't"

You force your eyes shut to stop the tears from running, shaking your head as you hear him take step after step closer into your space and crowd you against the shelves.

"I don't think I couldn't"

"Then why does it feel like I’m standing right in front of you. and you don’t see me?”, your voice is small and quiet, almost drowned out by the muffled sounds from the bar but once they sink in, Bob's eyes are darting all over your face, trying to figure out what you truly meant.

You open your eyes, tears still glittering as you look up at him. He sees so many emotions swirl in them ranging from pain and fear to something softer. Something he never dared to dream of finding in your eyes when you looked at him. And then he caught your eyes wandering from his to his lips and back up.

It was not much more than a flicker, something easily missed if he had blinked at the wrong moment.

"I always see you, sunshine", his voice is soft as he takes another step closer and leans down, slow and cautious as if he's trying to gauge if he had gotten what you implied right, but you stayed frozen in your place, closing your eyes again until you feel his nose brushing against yours and your foreheads touching.

"And what about last night?", you feel like you are caught up in a dream, fearing the moment your alarm would go off and you'd have to get up and back to a reality where Bob dated someone else and you were damned to only stand there and watch.

"Jolene is nice but all she's ever seen is the uniform and the glasses. She never bothered to really look at me. She didn't see me", he lifts his hands and rests them on your cheeks, thumbs gently caressing your skin as his eyes search yours for any sign that you do not want this.

"Not the way you did when we first met", you feel like you are getting lost in the endless blue of his ocean eyes, warm breath fanning over your face as you lean in to kiss him.

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated as always

If you want to read more you can find my masterlist here

[a-romantics-guide-to-life]

ᯓ ᯓ kryptonite kisses ᯓ ᯓ ⋆˙ ✮

clark can't seem to take his lips off of yours for even one second aka your lips are kryptonite, weakening him (but if that what it takes for you to keep you close to him, cest la vie)

tags: fluffyyyy, kisses, you work together, established relationship

FIRST CLARK FICLET!! def not the last bc i am so weak for this man already but i hope you enjoy!

You rub your forehead, the words on the page in your hands blurring together. How is it possible for one writer to make so many mistakes? The red pen tucked on your ear was running on its last legs of ink. You were convinced that the person who wrote this sham of an article deserved to be sent back to the kindergarten. And they also definitely needed glasses because who in their right mind would ever write a sentence as atrocious as “Superman’s strengths lied in his sooper abilities of strong because his face was a zero out of ten.”

“When I catch the person who wrote this, they’ll never ever write again. I won’t let them.” You mutter, taking your red pen and scribbling furiously, nearly ripping the paper out of anger.

A resounding laugh echoed in your office all of a sudden, you looked up to meet the familiar voice's face. Beautiful blue eyes stared back at you, glasses framing his strong nose and handsome face. You smile, setting your pen down as the man walks to you, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“What are you whispering furiously?” He smirked.

“Only this stupid article titled ‘Superman, only is he really that super?’” You sigh, lifting the paper for the tall man behind you. He lets out another chuckle, taking the papers as he starts to read the obscene article.

His deep voice starts to read the words under his breath, a few amused snorts escaping his thinned lips.

“Go back to elementary school? Such kind words darling.”

You laugh standing up and taking the papers from his hands, throwing them back to your desk. You walk up to him, your chest meeting his as you look up to gaze at the tall man.

“What would you have me say Clark? ‘You can’t write for shit, who spells super as sooper’?” He laughs, hands coming up to your arms, rubbing up and down. Your shoulders loosen under his powerful touch. 

“That’s certainly one way to communicate how whoever wrote that needs an immediate ride to the hospital because I think that they may have a severe concussion,” he hums, “Do ya think they’ll let me fly them to the hospital?”

You laugh, resting your head in the space between his shoulder and neck. You wrap your arms around his broad chest, “I don’t think that’s the best idea, Superman.” You whisper the last part.

Clark looks down at you, smiling at the very ‘secretive’ smile you give him. You made him feel as if he was the only one in the world, the way your bright eyes lit up every time you smiled. On a planet of 7 billion and a universe with who knows how many more species and people, you were the only one to make his chest swell with giddiness and elation.

He presses a kiss to your forehead, moving away from you so he could help you pack your things. You smile as you begin to plan your night in your head. Superhero movies, beer for Clark while you sipped on a nice red Clark bought you, and of course tipsy kisses which would probably lead to much more.

You mindlessly organize the articles you needed to edit on your desk, taking home a few that you could finish later. You smile, thankful it’s time to go home and spend the rest of your night with Clark.

“What are you smiling about over there? Surely the first page of the article I wrote about Superman isn’t that interesting.”

Your eyes snap to the page underneath your fingertips only to see a photo of the Man of Steel with the words “by Clark Kent” underneath the photo. 

You laugh, “sorry Clark, just excited to spend some time with you is all.” You smile, quickly packing up the rest of your things, your heels clacking on the tile floors of your office to catch up with your boyfriend. 

He smiles, taking your briefcase, which Clark noted was worn out and much cuter than the one he used, from your hands. He moves everything he’s holding to his left hand, cradling your hand in his. You smile, holding your coat in your other arm as you two walk to the elevator.

You press the button, letting your hand fall from Clark’s. He immediately pouts, much like a puppy or even Krypto, his shoulders sagging. You laugh at his antics, leaning to kiss him on the cheek. 

Clark’s heart immediately stop, the world seemingly halting as he looks at you, a gentle smile on your lips. He tilts his head to you, pressing his lips to meet yours in a soothing kiss. 

You lean in, your nose catching on his glasses. Your lips danced together, your hand going up to cradle his cheek. Your hand rubbed against his strong jaw as his lips continued to ravage yours. 

He released your lips for a second, his hand shooting up to throw his glasses into his pocket. He throws your bags and his own coat to the ground to wrap his strong arms around your waist, hoisting you up against him. Your hands immediately shoot up to his face, bringing him closer to you. 

Your breaths between kisses grew heavier and heavier, your lips tingling with passion and need as you greedily took Clark’s lips. His hands started to roam across the small of your back, your waist, your ass. His lips greedily latch onto yours, stealing ever sigh and groan escaping your messy pink lips. 

Suddenly the elevator dinged, your head shooting to the open metal door, praying that no one was inside. 

Clark laughs, noting your fear. He sets you down, kissing your nose and cheek before swiftly putting his glasses back on, patting his coat to rid it of any dirt, and grabbing your bags from the floor. You shyly do the same to your own coat, slipping your arms through the velvety sleeves as you walk to the elevator. 

You and Clark both reach to press the garage button at the same time. Your eyes lock on to each other, goofy smiles and chuckles drowning out the music playing of the crackly speakers. 

“Let me take you out on a date darling.” Clark takes your hand, kissing the ring you wore on your middle finger. 

You nod, your hand shaking away from his own. You cradle his face as the elevator continues it’s descent into the abyss of the lower floors.

You lean in once more, kissing his lips. You quickly move away from him though as the elevator doors open once more, sprinting away to your car before Clark could trap your lips once again in heaven. 

As you move hastily to your car, you hear Clark mumble “damn you and your kryptonite kisses.”

You laugh, opening the doors for Clark as he scrambled to get you inside presumably to catch your lips once again in a kiss.

[juchioris]

No Yandere Simulator: Undine Eisner

(excuse the traditional art, I don't have the digital drawing skill, lol)

I'm sending Undine out to play with the neighbours' kids!

Category: Potential Rival - will investigate murders and murder attempts (turns up after murder and failed attempt) - will try to protect everyone (after failed murder attempt: guards the intended victim, no matter who it is) - will intervene in fights if she comes across them (tries to stop the fight, so no one gets injured/killed) - will try to stop a murder attempt, if she walks in on it (fights the attacker and tries to capture them) - will sneak/run away, if someone has a gun (Undine knows what she's made of and that she can't win against that)

In this AU, she moved with her family from Germany to whereever this school is, while her friends stayed back in Germany, so she is on her own at this school (still in contact with them though). Her family is actually political very right and hates foreigners, so they also hate to be foreigners, but one parent got such a great job opportunity here, you know: money. At any rate, Undine tries to be a "good" foreigner and "integrate" (assimilate). So, she prefers to get into fights (only with "bad guys" who "deserve it", of course) after school, to not be bad at school by breaking the rule against fighting there.

Other "values" taught at home are racism and queerphobia. With the bad influence of her parents instead of the good influence of her friends, Undine believes in these "values" much more. By mouthing off about her outdated and cruel points of view, Undine has ruined her own reputation at this school.

Her desire to be heroic and popular (even stronger in this AU) is constantly thwarted by herself. It's not just that she ends up discriminating students in her mindset to look down on differences to put herself higher, she also comes across as annoying, ignorant and patronizing when she tries to help people with little daily struggles (because there are so little big stuggles at this lame, mundane school).

While it is unclear, if Jade really has a romantic interest in Undine (as rumour has it), he is certainly interested in the contradiction between her heroic kindness and her villainous rude side and the resulting "entertaining behaviour". Undine is curious, if the rumour is true, but won't ask Jade outright. She wouldn't risk to get rejected by someone she doesn't even have a crush on. Goes against her pride.

In an AU, where she is not at a disadvantage with others having magic, but she herself not, Undine is pretty strong. She won't admit it, but her motivation to get stronger in the Martial arts club isn't just her wish to be heroic and save people, but also her less heroic lust for power (which physical strength is).

Her close friends call her "Dini" - but she doesn't have any close friends at this school. Undine has some kind of frivalry with Yuu Quinn (OC of @vvyvernicus), where they hang out together because most other people avoid them due to bad reputation, but they bicker and mock each other most of the time and Undine has the immature need to compete with Yuu Quinn over every little thing. But yeah, Undine does care about Yuu Quinn, so if anyone does something bad to her - it's personal and Undine will come for this bad guy with extra rage.

I hope Undine isn't too problematic with her discriminatory ways, but I thought if murder is okay, then her misdeeds should not be too hardcore for the AU. Undine can change and learn to be a better person - with some good-influence-friends, patience and learning from mistakes it's possible, even in this AU.

No Yandere Simulator ? (TWST AU)

AU Information:

This AU takes place similar to Yandere Sim but with Twisted Wonderland but Taro is Azul and Ayano is Quartz. Her goal is to eliminate… AZUL ASHENGROTTO. Yeah, her goal is actually to kill Azul and NOT the rivals. The rivals being your OCs/sonass and they have to protect Azul from Quartz and her dumb elimination plans.

More info on Quartz + Tweels info

Q&A for OCs!!!

This is an AU just for fun!! lol I just had a silly idea. Here’s a template if you wanna make your own oc into the AU (rival or not)

ALSO THEY DONT KNOW IT'S QUARTZ bc she's just a nobody girl

Bro you can tell I was hella lazy with Azul idk he’s too much

Rival List:

Romeo by @skrimpyskimpy

Shuu by @oya-oya-okay

Chiyo by @inotonline

Sable by @twsted-void

Jovie by @jovieinramshackle

Finn by @thehollowwriter

NPC/Non-Rival List:

Elfie by @quartzelfgf

Higashikuramori Shin by @liyuviq

Jade Leech

Floyd Leech

Rizy by @rizdoodls

Yuuki by @theolivetree123

Joseph by @readsrandomstuff67

Yuubeni by @bunniehunn

Yuya by @cheerleaderman

Shuu and Silly by @sillybillymillyrilly

Superstar!! By @imafrealinrainbow478484

Viz (Vizzie) by @twistedwonderlandshenanigans

Yuhua by @distant-velleity

Nyx by @blackcat101

Gia by @ramshacklerumble

Yuuko by @silkkorchid

Moch by @thatsadguymochi

Faye by @faerieluvss

Yukana by @babyghoul138

Antoinette by @antoinettedoodles

AJ by @karamatsuboy-aj

Evelyuu by @h0neybane

Paloma and Hydris by @mhedusard

(Let me know if I made a mistake lol)