#orv x gender neutral reader

[ventismacchiato]

KIM DOKJA BOYFRIEND TEXTS AND TWEETS

kim dokja x gender neutral reader

established relationship, canon compliant, beginningish of manwha, in a world where you guys have access to twitter. you both know you’re in a novel.

this is for a very niche audience aka me and @ihearttori also pls ignore the mistake in slide 5 i used the wrong account it’s supposed to be yjh

[slowd1ving]

Kim Dokja with a Sung Jinwoo!Reader and their supporting constellation is Six-Eared Macaque

BAKHT ⁺ ✦ KIM DOKJA

"An existence as lonely as yours... chance has not been kind to you, it seems." It was neither choice nor good fortune that flung you into the rift that divided worlds: suspended in a limbo not of your own making, in a world with no dungeons like yours but 'scenarios' instead. Only the Story reaching its [◼◼◼] and you protecting the protagonist would guarantee your return, but how were you supposed to do that when the 'protagonist' you were meant to protect kept dying? honestly it's been a while since I read both solo levelling and orv so the plot is a bit hazy. I told myself to focus more on the actual interaction so it wouldn't snowball into storybuilding like the rest of my works... but alas... honestly this ask was extremely interesting like I've never read journey to the west but a sung jinwoo/six eared macaque collab??? damn me when I focus on tense first encounters rather than the lovey dovey aspect of relationships.. jokes aside it does get somewhat soft at the very end fun fact bakht refers to fortune in arabic, or rather finding luck in 'chance'; which unfortunately our reader doesn't seem to have a lot of... art by @ 1L9l2Aa8UCL0IGJ (blackbox) on x! pairing: kim dokja + sung jinwoo gn reader warnings: canon typical danger, mentions of death, also they're not really on the best of terms initially?? quite graphic depictions of blood wc: 2.7k

ORV MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST ・゜・NAVIGATION

Tonight, the wind carried only premonition in its whispers. It started like all the stories did—the ones that reached your ears, at least. Beginning as a gentle breeze, the songs twining past and future turned coarse as a gale once they encountered the pixelated appendages that seemed to have a life of their own: six downy auricles that were unable to decide whether to stay in the virtual realm or materialise themselves. 

Most of the time, they hid in the umbrous kingdom—much like the rest of your shadows. When you donned the façade of the humans from Planetary System 8612, the tales you could eavesdrop on were mere gossip slinking in from the future and the bygone past—tidbits of paltry information that were perhaps divine retribution for not proudly donning the Six-Eared Macaque’s ‘crown’, as he seemed to put it. 

But tonight was different. Tonight, the mellifluous litany of your flute was sharper than usual as you idled the time away. Tonight, with only the vast night shielding you and the countless shadows skulking on the rooftop, their dance appeared wilder. There was frenzy in the air, and prophecy tainting the cold, canorous wind. 

It tasted acerbic. 

‘Danger… horizon…. Dokja….’

The frequency soured the melody that brushed past the fur of your six-ears, and they flicked, irritably. 

[The Fake Monkey King warns of something afoot.]

“I know,” you bitterly commented. Something was always afoot when it came to this world in which you did not belong. Falling past the veil separating a dungeon from nothingness wasn’t meant to happen. Your system subsequently trapping you in this limbo until you reached [◼◼◼◼◼], too, wasn’t meant to happen either. Let the Story run its course and protect its ‘protagonist’, and this dimension will naturally collapse just enough that you’ll fall through back into yours. 

Kim Dokja, you’d repeated like a mantra while you lost your mind—over and over while your system glitched and protested in this limbo. Over and over, while he died and died and died some more. You’d bought and earned and fought for various potions, weapons and clothes to help him with his scenarios—leaving them in his vicinity where you knew he’d stumble across them—but it was all so fucking futile. 

Each time, he returned past the veil; each time, you sank into a deeper mire of restriction. You hadn’t spoken to another soul in months: imprisoned in the very shadows you controlled. It wasn’t as bad, initially: you could still talk to people uninvolved in the ‘Story’, the poor souls dubbed as extras—so long as you didn’t cause any ripples with your actions. If Dokja was accounted for through both the soldiers in his shadow, and the whispers that reached the six ears that fanned out behind your head, it would be fine. 

‘Hazard… kilometre north of Dokja’s camp….’

A kilometre. You’d be quiet. You always were. 

Dokja. Dokja. Dokja. Your face soured as you exchanged places with Beru: ready to silently act as his guardian shadow, though if he was determined to sacrifice himself… Both of you would pay a price.

The silence in the city was razor-sharp and just as deadly, to the point you could hear the ionic buzz of your summoned demonic knives. Their ozonic scent bitterly filled your mouth, which only amplified the acerbic profanities mingling on your tongue as you glanced around for the danger. What danger? You’d be damned before you were sent back to that empty desert to reflect your wrongdoings. There was no chance to gain anything there—just endless time, chipping your sanity away and stirring up derision for the one who couldn’t solve anything without dying. 

Because in the end, both of you would pay the price, and he didn’t even know it. He became a constellation, while you were shackled to a prison that was never of your own making. 

Examining the wreck of this urban landscape that felt too much like the Seoul you knew, you came to the abrupt conclusion that there was nothing. Even when your six-ears flicked this way and that, it was too silent. Not a whisper, nor any trace of danger lingered in this space; such an occurrence was nigh-impossible in the scenario-laden dome of this city. 

[The Prisoner of the G◼◼◼en Headband expres◼◼◼◼ his mistrust.] 

Sun Wukong. A flash of hatred that was not your own wracked your body, complete with a burning envy and something far more insidious than anything you’d ever experienced, 

Crackling messages began interfering with your system screen. You’d only seen this once—when you accidentally intruded on the fringes of the ‘Star Stream’ as an ‘unauthorised one’. An anomaly if you ever saw one. 

“There’s nothing,” you muttered callously, scraping the tip of your blade against concrete ruins. If it had been a false alarm, then it was time to leave before you risked paying the penalty. Your job was simple—keep watch of the ‘protagonist’ from the shadows, and make his life somewhat easier. 

[A nameless constellation argues that advertisements are simply a part of life, and that it’s not a big deal to build suspense.]

That’s weird. The messages were getting clearer, but the warning signs that typically appeared in the system windows weren’t there. 

Your own supporting constellation was far too quiet as you sheathed your knife in the shadow dimension—the darkness cradled the weapon softly before it vanished, though the familiar whish could not soothe the unease that distorted your mind. Never had the six-ears failed to pinpoint hazards, as close to omniscient that they were.

“Got you,” something—someone—whispered from afar, the moment you stepped on the next broken slab of pavement and triggered a tripwire. A paltry toy, golden string that was incandescent in this darkened city, wrapped tightly around your body; right before you were shoved against a concrete wall. “You’re not the only one to see the ‘outcome’.”

Stand down, Igris, you commanded as the stranger continued to press into you; you could sense the turbulent shadows growing even more agitated at your position, though all of them could feel the ease with which you could’ve snapped out of the rope that was no more than a thread. The stream was eerily silent, while the glassy window only you could see kept its cold azure colour—nothing like the glaring scarlet that informed you of your penalty. 

Who is this? 

In the darkness, you made out the shape of a mouth pressed into a thin line. Dark hair partially swept over the stranger’s eyes, while a long white coat draped itself over his shoulders. But it wasn’t the garb, nor was it the features that alerted you of just who this was. 

It was the umbrous cloud of his soul, the very one you’d been tracking all these weeks. 

“Kim Dokja,” you greeted, half-placidly, half in intrigue. If he could bend the rules of life and death to suit him, you supposed that bending some more rules wouldn’t hurt. The interest was quickly replaced by irritation—for this was the very charge that had continuously shackled you to the in-betweens of the Seoul dome. Not quite a human from this planet, nor a monster—just an abominable anomaly that didn’t belong in this ‘Story’ at all. “I wasn’t expecting this.”

There was a polite smile on your face, but he only scoffed in disbelief. “What the hell are you playing at? Who are you? You think leaving all those materials for me to find will somehow increase your chances to survive? Why are you doing this?”

Incredulity laced each syllable. The Ugliest King stared hard at the face of the Shadow Monarch, though he didn’t know it. 

You sympathised, you really did. Having someone trail after you (though he hadn’t mentioned your shadows—did he even notice them?) and leave you useful items might have been convenient to some, but chronic overthinkers (as Beru had reported to you from his shade) wouldn’t see it as such. 

But it wasn’t like you had a choice not to, either. 

“I just want to get back home.” For the first time, there was a hint of the welling annoyance that seeped through the cracks in your courteous expression: in your grinding molars, in the slight squint of your eyes. Babysitting this guy should have never been part of your job.

Don’t affect the story.

You pressed your lips together to avoid the tide of complaints that swept in. Why do you keep dying? Do you know how much it sucks whenever you do? Why the fuck was I put on babysitting duty?

“Just take the things,” you gritted out instead; to which a sharp blade stung the side of your neck. Quick, but not quick enough to pose a true threat to you. “They were annoying to farm, you know that?”

“I never asked for them, nor do I need them to reach where I want to be. You were never in the original— I can’t exactly trust you now, can I?” he scowled—more ill-tempered than Beru had included in his periodic reports. In a mere second, you surged: as fluid and fast as quicksilver, slamming the guy you’d grown to abhor into the cold, harsh asphalt. There was no apology dripping from your lips this time, only a snarling, bloodied grit of teeth when the penalty began etching into your skin as a direct consequence of laying hands on the ‘untouchable’ protagonist. 

Sensing your distress, the six-ears materialised around your face—like they were countering the drip-drip of sanguine that slinked from your nose and onto the shirt of the man beneath you. You watched as you sullied the protagonist you were forced to stay away from—tainted in a way that was sure to finally end you. His dark eyes, too, traced the motion of each crimson rivulet: chest rising and falling desperately as he felt the very real, razor-sharp edge of his own knife lightly against his jugular. 

“Listen, I never asked for this either,” you hissed. “Believe it or not, I too want you to reach the conclusion of this shitshow so I can get back home. You need to stay alive for that. I’ll wait.”

The pressure in your head intensified. 

“I don’t know how you got past the restrictions on me—” Your grip on his shirt loosened as carmine began seeping into the system window. “—but I can’t stay here any longer without repercussions. Neither can I interfere with the story nor escape this hell—” Dark spots began floating in your vision, and the blade sliced into the concrete a hair's breadth away from his neck with a low-resonating chime. Maybe this was your only chance to make your job easier, without the loss of sanity that came with rule-breaking. “—but if you can’t trust me, trust that your accomplishment of your goal will allow me to get back to my own world as a result.”

“Wait–” Your body swayed as you stood, feeling the familiar frequency of the Stream boot up against the fine down of the six-ears. I don’t have time, you wanted to say, but iron was beginning to leave your lips too. 

[The Prisoner of the Golden Headband complains loudly that fraternising with the enemy is a horribly stupid move, pulling out his hair.]

[The Demon-like Judge of Fire is unsure of this development, and would like to be filled in on this stranger’s connection with the Prisoner of the Golden Headband..]

The Star Stream was… clear. Not filled with static like it had been before, but cogent enough that you could observe each message coherently. 

[The Star Stream has its eyes on you.]

A terrible foreboding surfaced, while your chest constricted with the sudden onslaught of red that assaulted your eyes—a cacophony of warning signs, all targeted at you. 

“What is that?” A hand that wasn’t yours reached for the crimson glow, and you jolted as the cerise shattered: reverting back to the familiar blue interface. The ache in your head, too, vanished—yet the buildup of fatigue was still present in your hazy mind. Though, the only thing you could register was the change in his voice as he observed the screen, an inkling of understanding as he watched the characters fade from existence:

Protect the ‘protagonist’ Kim Dokja. Let the Story run its course, and you will be able to return to your home world. 

{The Fourth Wall quietly observes the remnants of its meal.}

Gone, in a wave of his hand. That same hand, now held out to you as if it hadn’t just erased weeks’ worth of strain from your body: long, deft fingers reaching out to you. You could only stare as the world grew dim around you, as a faint voice brushed past the soft fur of your six-ears. 

‘Error… error… due to unprecedented actions ◼◼◼◼ taken by the protagonist, the system has now… updated to provide for a deuteragonist model… consi◼◼der standby… updating… updating… ◼◼◼◼◼◼   ◼◼◼◼ objective updated… reach the [◼◼◼◼] alongside deuteragonist Kim Dokja to catalyse homecoming.’

“What the hell… did you do?” you slurred. The misguided loathing towards him had dissipated into a tumultuous state of frenzy; you could feel the shadows within stir with the agitation of your mind, though you fought to keep your cards at bay. Rather than the hilt of your familiar sword, you thumbed the worn edge of your flute in a last bid to stay calm. 

“‘Reach the [◼◼◼◼] alongside deuteragonist Kim Dokja to catalyse homecoming’, huh?” The incredulity you felt at him repeating the words that only you ever heard was overshadowed by the bone-deep exhaustion you felt. 

“Was… being honest,” you mumbled for the last time, fully expecting to feel the frigid asphalt as you collapsed and your eyes came to a close. The lingering penalties had finally taken effect, yet you didn’t quite hit the hard concrete like you anticipated. Rather, you collided against a wiry frame that, despite its initial gauntness, was far warmer than anything you’d felt in these apocalyptic weeks. “I might’ve died if I continued interfering.”

“You won’t die.” The words ghosted over your ear as he stared down at the person in his arms who’d been tracking him for weeks. They’d been a constant pain and irritated him to no end, especially with all the gifts he received that he’d never read about in TWSA; and there was nothing he hadn’t read about in TWSA save for the epilogue. “I won’t let you.”

His very headache was now slumbering in his arms, with only the ambition of going home on their mind. 

What a lonely existence. 

Maybe you heard him. Maybe you didn’t. All he knew was that he was crafting an epilogue that would shake this very world to its roots, and perhaps there was a small, you-sized shape cut out just for the person snoozing their little heart out. He had a feeling he had only breached the outermost layer of you; peeling back only the very dermis to reveal someone far too overpowered to compete with most of the dome. 

Dokja’s thumb traced the bloody lines staining your face. You could faintly feel them; then, abruptly, the citrus smell that lingered on him grew sharper. Closer. A soft pressure applied itself to the crown of your head: fleeting, silvery. What was that?

It was everything that had been forcibly taken from you after you were brought past the void. 

With something that was suspiciously close to a smile, your mind drifted away in the arms of someone who both damned you and saved you. 

　⁺ ✦

“If Igris and Yoo Joonghyuk fought, who would win?” 

“Igris,” you answered without missing a beat. There wasn’t a hint of hesitation in your face as you opened your mouth, and it was so strong that he almost believed that your Commander could beat the true ‘protagonist’ of this world. “And if he lost, I’d win for him.”

This! This was his chance to get back at that squid bastard! 

“...Want to test your hypothesis?”

[imagines-by-elysian]

𝗥𝗲𝗮𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘆 -𝗬𝗼𝗼 𝗝𝗼𝗼𝗻𝗴𝗵𝘆𝘂𝗸

Oneshot: In every reality you met, he couldn't help to save you Genre: Lowkey angst-? Pairing: Joonghyuk x reader A/n: Got myself invested in Orv fandom

In every reality you met, you died in his arms.

Time, a complex and malleable concept, played cruel tricks on him. Time is such a matrical concept, and in the era of apocalypse, he couldn't help but revive himself every time, leaving his peers and loved ones in the past again only for him to remember them in his memories, while they remember him for nothing. Yet, no matter how many times he tried, he couldn't save you.

Each time, Joonghyuk couldn't help but hold you close, in each reality as memories of past regressions haunted him, trapped in a cycle he couldn't break apart. Afterall, you were destined to die again.

Joonghyuk couldn't help but hold onto you tightly as your soul would gradually slip away into the abyss of the underworld, leaving him alone in this desolate world.

"Joonghyuk, it hurts" you would always say, as you would hold onto his black coat, before your hands would lose control and feel weak. Every time, you cried out in pain, and he could only watch helplessly, murmuring, "I'm sorry I couldn't save you."

Your death always left him feeling powerless, consumed by anger and self-loathing. He couldn't save your smile, your laughter, or your soul. He felt pathetic, useless, and cowardly. It made him angry, because in every regression he took, he couldn't save you.

When he encountered Dokja again, he struggled to hold back his urge to ask. Dokja had altered this timeline, and perhaps, there was a glimmer of hope. Could you be saved this time? Could he see you smile before the world's end?

He dared to hope that this time things might change, and he might witness your happiness once more. Maybe, just maybe there was a little hope.

He observed you wrapping your arm around his companion in gratitude, thanking him for your salvation, he clung to the possibility that this timeline could bring about a different outcome.

Just maybe, this timeline would change, just maybe everything will change, and just maybe you will have a chance to live again.

[thegnomelord]

Ancient Dreams in a Modern Land Ch: 1

CW: Canon typical violence, gore and violence, Canon alterations, GN reader for now, eventual Kim Dokja/reader/Yoo Joonghyuk, AO3

Summary: When you were a child, you learned two lessons. One of them, your parents had carved into your bones with tongues as sharp as swords: Some things will always be out of your control.

Perhaps this was why you had emersed yourself in fiction from a young age, because it allowed you to feel true freedom through the lives and struggles of the characters, to live out their happy endings even if your treacherous heart didn't allow one for yourself.

But those times were coming to an end.

Here you were, a foreigner in Seoul, one contract away from losing all you had worked to achieve. At times like this, you would wonder what the protagonists would do, what you would do in a lawless world like ORV, where the lessons you had learned would loose their meaning...

Could you reach your own happy ending? Or would you fail once again?

As they say; Be careful what you wish for.

It's funny how quickly life can fall to pieces.

Not even two weeks ago you had still been known as the choreographer and back up dancer of 'cODe X', a relatively underground kpop group quickly garnering mainstream popularity thanks in large part to your unique and 'chaotic' style of choreography meshing wonderfully with their abstract sense of music. And you were good at your job too; whether it was working from the shadows as their dance coach or on the main stage as a back up dancer, one thing was clear— you knew how to entertain.

Of course working for them hadn't been all sunshine and roses, as the many sleepless nights could attest. Frankly you had lost count how many times you had stayed late in the studio, chasing away fatigue with caffeine and prayers just so you could perfect a routine. Seeing as their boom in popularity and subsequent employment offer at a entertainment company had only happened a few months ago, the pay hadn't been the best either, but you didn't mind.

Hell, considering the bloodthirsty viper pit that was the Korean job market for foreigners, you were quite lucky to be working for them, and having to deal with their sleazy employer, than working one of the dirty, dangerous and demeaning jobs Korea would often offer to people like you...or worse: getting deported.

But your luck has run out.

Because some things will always be out of your control.

Now here you were; Sitting in a prestigious restaurant turned impromptu courtroom, where the judge was nowhere to be seen and the other costumers, like bought jurors, paid no attention to you or your plight. And why would they? Though you were the wronged party here, you sat at the table not as a victim deserving justice; But as the antagonist, as the villain.

Because the 'victim' had already won, and this farce was just for show.

...

Black beady eyes stared back at you through the glass as if it saw kinship between the two of you. But that was just your mind trying to console you; You knew that the only thought in the things' head was the instinctual drive to protect its unhatched young still stuck to its tail. It didn't even notice when one of it's kin was pulled out of the tank, leaving only two lobsters where once there had been three, just because someone had gotten hungry and decided they wanted grilled lobster tail.

You supposed you were no better than them, your life in the hands of someone else. Yet unlike the lobsters, who floated around the tank as they were still beneath the sea, you weren't ignorant to the powers that be...so why did that not make you feel any better?

A bottle of soju was placed on the table, tearing you away from your thoughts. You watched the waiter girl give a shallow bow and scamper off, turning your attention to the so called 'victim' of this mess.

Or you would have, if the damn copycat had actually showed up.

Instead of meeting the smug smirk of Juin, the bastard that had copied the choreography you had invented and performed step for step and then accused you of stealing his ideas, you were instead greeted by the best lawyer his daddy's money could afford; Although you hadn't paid enough attention to remember his name, the smile he had given you at the start of the negotiations would've made the devil proud.

You didn't have enough money to hire a snake like that, and going to court over this matter with your budget was out of the question. Hell, the only reason you had a competent lawyer of your own, instead of the one the entertainment company had tried to give you, was because he was a fan turned friend of yours.

"As I was saying," The lawyer cleared his throat. He was a short man and looked old enough to be mistaken for one of the Elders. "My client is happy to drop all charges provided your client issues a public apology and agrees not to sign any more choreography or dance specific contracts for the next four years." And just like the Elders, you couldn't underestimate him.

"Are you kidding me?" Choi Chin-Mae's bewildered voice pulled you out of your musings.

Chin-Mae was short even by Korean standards, and looked like a pipsqueak when next to you. His eternal baby face only complicated matters, with light brown hair and honey colored eyes he looked more like your little brother than a man one year away from being thirty and several years your senior. Because of his youthful appearance, people would underestimate him in the courtroom, and in doing so would unwittingly dig their own graves as Chin-Mae turned out to be a vicious lawyer when he could go before a judge.

"Non-competition agreements must be fair for the one sighing it, but what you are asking of my client is grossly abusive and would impair my client's livelihood and employment opportunities more than the common six month long NCA's." Chin-Mae argued. "And, I can't believe I have to say this, but you would know that such a contract is illegal and wouldn't be binding in any country, least of all ours."

Unfortunately, you couldn't go in front of a judge, even if the claims were baseless, the attorney and court fees would surely bankrupt you. It's the reason why you had agreed to try settling this outside of court.

The opposing lawyer smiled at Chin-Mae as if he was a child, "Mister Choi, my client isn't asking for them to sign an NCA."

You could see Chin-Mae narrow his eyebrows, his mouth opening to form a rebuttal, but no sound came out as the other lawyer held up his hand, taking a long sip of his soju. When he was done, he put the glass on the table, before speaking. "My client expects yours to do this on their own accord, without a signed NCA."

"That's preposterous," Chin-Mae scoffed, "No judge would allow that." He shot back, already beginning to form another reply when he was cut off again.

"Oh?" The lawyer asked, a smug smirk playing at the corners of his lip. "Then would your client like to go to court over this matter as we had originally intended and see what the judge decides?"

Chin-Mae closed his mouth, his lips pressed into into a thin line. You could see the gears in his head turning, struggling to come up with a rebuttal.

You sighed internally. As sad as it sounded, you were used to this; This disappointment and failure and powerlessness.

Maybe that was why you felt so calm at the moment...either that or the stress over the past few weeks had made you numb as a rock. Either way, Juin was richer and more influential than you, and with his daddy's money, you were certain that the populace would see you as the selfish copycat and the truth would be buried six feet deep where it could rot alongside your reputation.

Was this how the author of TWSA felt when SSSSSS-grade Infinite Regressor came out and became wildly popular?

"Of course, my client isn't heartless." You found that hard to believe, but held your tongue. "He is willing to offer a...different method to resolve this problem."

You and Chin-Mae glanced at one another, your friend only shrugging his shoulders as the other lawyer rifled trough his suitcase.

"Here we are," The lawyer pulled out a thick stack of papers bound together at the corner. You had to assume it was a contract, though even in the entertainment industry you had never seen a contract that was as thick as a Bible.

He placed it on the table, sliding it towards you. You only managed to read the first few lines, most of it meaningless lawyer lingo, before Chin-Mae snatched it and began reading through it, softly mumbling some legal jargons under his breath that you had no hopes of understanding.

"What is Juin offering?" You asked, far too tired or numb to call the copycat with any respect (not that he deserved any).

The lawyer didn't even bat an eye at your disrespect. "In short, the employer of my client is offering for you to come work under my client." He explained, taking another long sip of his drink. "You are remarkably talented for someone so young," He offered, the compliment wounding your pride more than any insult from your parents ever could. "It would be a shame to see it wasted for such a stupid mistake like the one you had made."

You narrowed your eyes, but otherwise were able to hold your poker face. "And my obligations if I signed it?"

Judging by the fact that Chin-Mae had grown as silent as the grave while reading the aforementioned contract, whatever was in store for you wasn't good.

"My client still expects a public apology for the damage you had caused to his reputation." The lawyer gave you an innocent smile, "You will also be required to terminate your previous contract with your current employer, but that one is obvious." He then began listing off even more conditions, from low wages to obscenely long work hours and even more draconian requirements.

It was little better than the slave contracts the 'cODe X' members had signed.

Chin-Mae echoed your sentiment, nearly frothing at the mouth as he slapped the contract on the table. Still, he was able to hold himself back from starting off his sentence with an insult. "The contract says nothing about their visa, how can we be sure you shi—"

Quick as a flash you elbowed him in the ribs, punching a pained sound out of him and cutting him off before he could say something stupid in the heat of anger. He glanced at you, before nodding his head and clearing his throat. "...Will the company provide continued renewals of my clients' work permit provided they sign the contract?"

The lawyer watched this all go down with amusement, but luckily didn't comment on your minor display of violence. "That is correct." He nodded his head, turning to look at you. "The entertainment organization has already prepared all the necessary documents on their end, barring your employment contract, which we are discussing at this moment." He motioned to the stack of papers sitting on the table.

Your friend grew silent, watching the old lawyer take a sip of soju, before he asked. "Is there room to negotiate the details of this contract? Multiple aspects and stipulations of this contract leave a legal grey area and the employer's expectations for my client aren't any clearer."

Or, in other words; it was legal on paper, and only on paper.

"I'm afraid not," The lawyer have you a sympathetic smile, though you were sure it was about as real as Juin's nose if the tabloids about his plastic surgeries were to be believed. "This is the only contract my client is willing to offer you...no alterations allowed." The old man leaned into his chair as he finished off his soju, motioning to the papers in front of you. "You can sign it now or you can meet my client in court and let the judge decide the outcome. What do you say?"

Oh, you had a lot to say, most of it unfit even for a PG18 audience.

To think that this bastard had framed you as a plagiarist, dragged your name and reputation through the mud, and was now aiming to squeeze what joy and creativity you had left in your soul like it was a wet rag...and he hadn't even bothered to show up in person to do so.

A dark voice, locked away deep in the caverns of your heart, whispered a seductive thought in your ear: Drown the lawyer in the lobster tank!

But you shouldn't, couldn't,��do that.

Chin-Mae sagged in his chair, looking at you with a worry in his eyes. "What...what should we do?"

You frowned, what else was there for you?

You pulled the contract in front of you, flipping over to the last page. You reached into your pocket, fingers ghosting over cold metal as they went past it and grasped the dojang you carried around. At this point, the instinct to carry it around was no difference than the ingrained need to have sharp steel hidden in your pocket or boot.

"What other choices do we have?" You asked, the question rhetorical in nature.

"None that would be in your best interest." The lawyer helpfully informed you, pushing forward a small contained of red dojang ink. You were only slightly surprised they weren't asking you to sign the devil's contract with your own blood, though the irony of red ink wasn't lost on you.

The dojang hovered over the signature mark, the nerves you had locked away so well until now making themselves known through a slight tremor in your hands which only got worse the longer you hesitated. Oh, how you wanted to take matters into your own hands, like the protagonists of ORV or some other manga. Those heroes who could to push through their problems or fool the gods themselves, forging their own path with nothing but the strength in their arms and their wits...But fiction wasn't reality, and some things would always be out of your control.

If only you could change your future.

The lights cut out, plunging you in darkness.

A shiver raced down your spine, followed closely by a cold sense of wrongness.

"What's happening?"

"Must be a power outage, nothing to worry about."

"Well they better fix it quick, I haven't finished eating."

You paid no attention to the voices of the other restaurant goers, something at the back of your mind urging you to check your phone. Your hand was already reaching for it long before your brain had fully processed the thought. The light burned your eyes, but even that failed to garner your attention as your eyes settled on what resided on your home-screen:

You have 5 new messages from: tls123

The lights came back on, but you didn't put your phone down, instead quickly opening the messages.

tls123: I am sorry. We failed.

tls123: In truth, I don't know how this happened, but you are here now.

tls123: Maybe you can succeed where we failed.

tls123: This should help.

tls123: [Attached 2 files titled 'Three Ways to Survive in a Ruined World.TXT', 'Omnipresent Reader's Viewpoint.TXT']

You stared at your phone, unease and confusion bubbling in the pits of your stomach. Thoughts rolled around your head like tumbleweeds, forming questions which demanded answers you didn't have; Was this a joke? Was someone pranking you? It wasn't like bored teenagers never texted weird shit to random numbers, but they were never so specific.

On instinct you pressed the download button, before trying to type back a message. Only you couldn't; any letter you pressed would lag for a good five seconds if it even registered at all. Despite your best efforts, all you had typed out was an incomprehensive mess of letters. It seemed like your phone was using everything it had just to download those two files.

With a strange sense of deja vu, you checked the time on your phone — 7:02 p.m.

You couldn't tell what you felt at that moment; Anger? Sadness? Disappointment? Foolishness maybe?...This was real life, not fiction, what were you doing fooling yourself into thinking that it could be any different?

The call of your name from the lawyer had you switching off your phone and quickly putting it back in your pocket. "Yes, I'll sign it." You picked up the dojang, re-applying the ink. This time you only hesitated for a second before placing your seal on the dotted line, resigning yourself to your fate.

Then you heard a voice and you didn't even notice when you mouthed the words it said in sync with it:

[The free service of planetary system 8612 has been terminated]

[The main scenario has started]

You blinked rapidly before rubbing your eyes, wondering if you had finally lost what marbles you had left.

Then Chin-Mae muttered by your side, "Is that a...Dokkaebi?" Then a second later, under his breath. "I've got to cut back on that shit."

You whipped your head around quickly to look, forgetting to ask what that shit was as your ears began to ring, the dojang quietly slipping from your fingers at the sight you saw.

Floating in the center of the restaurant was a...a small furred creature, its off white fur contrasting with the tattered skirt/loincloth it had around its waist. Two budding horns sprouted from its head, like those of a little Billy goat.

"Wow, is this a new attraction?"

"It's kinda ugly looking."

The voices of others rang like church bells in your ears, yet they accomplished one significant thing — they proved that you hadn't gone insane just yet and that this thing was real.

As quick as you could you grabbed your phone, scrolling through your downloads until you found it: TWSA, all 3,149 chapters of it.

You scrolled through the chapters, only reading bits and pieces of it all as some part of you tried to prove to you that this was all just your imagination. You felt something at the back of your mind ding as you read through the chapters, lines you had seen in the ORV novel scattered among pages and pages of what had to be the original TWSA.

You looked up as the little creature tried to speak, but you already knew what would come out. Though it still surprised you how the language it spoke vaguely sounded like a bastardized version of your mother tongue.

['*#(w&$!*$!]

[#*@!%a!(*s(#!@#*&!]

"Hey, isn't that your language?" Chin-Mae asked, turning to look at you.

You shrugged one shoulder, no less confused than him. "If it is, that's the worst accent I've ever heard."

Then a few seconds later, you heard perfectly pronounced Korean leave the little creature's mouth. "I, I am really sorry everyone, the Korean patch wasn't...um working properly." It said, but something was strange;

Why did it look like that, you knew webtoon artists took some liberties but you were certain that the Dokkaebi from ORV was white with golden horns, not off-white with brown horns. And it certainly hadn't been as polite, and was this really how it sounded in real life?

The little creature cleared its throat. "Now...May I have everyone’s attention, I, I have big important news!” It tried to sound commanding by raising his voice, but either because of fear or stage-fright it failed to garner the attention it wanted.

"Do you think they sell plushies like that?"

"Do you really think the girls would like it?"

"Mommy I want one! I promise I'll take good care of it and feed it, and walk it, and pick up after it!"

You had no idea how that was possible, but parts of the Dokkaebi's fur turned pinkish red almost like it was flushed from embarrassment. "I, uh-I mean-mhh!" It flinched suddenly as if hit by some unseen force. It turned into itself slightly, a small galaxy appearing in its hands. "My...My apologies d-dear constellations! I-I, uh...I will begin right now!"

With that you saw its horns elongate, becoming almost as big as the rest of its body.

A shiver raced down your spine, blood roaring in your ears.

You knew what would happen.

"This is stupid." The lawyer muttered, standing and quickly grabbing the contract you had all but forgotten about. "I am afraid I am unable to stay to this childish theatric, until next time we meet."

Chin-Mae flinched, pushing his chair back as he began to stand up to stop the lawyer. "Now wait a minute we aren't fini-"

Quick as lighting you reached out and grabbed him by the shoulder before roughly pushing him back down, your fingers digging into his shoulder with a level of savagery and roughness he didn't think you possessed. Any protests he tried to make were silenced by your palm quickly being pressed over his mouth, not letting a single sound escape him. You pushed his head to look at you, your fingers digging into his cheek and jaw hard enough to leave bruises.

He grabbed your wrist, trying to pull your hand away, only to freeze in place when his eyes met yours.

You didn't think you wanted to know what he saw in them. 

'Don't. Move' You mouthed to him, not even a whisper escaping your lips.

[I need you to listen to me!]

A shot rang through-

Then the screaming began.

Several more shots rang out-.

The screams stopped as multiple heavy objects hit the ground.

A leg landed on your table, spraying you with blood.

Your palm muffled what pathetic noises Chin-Mae made, his trembling hands gripping your sleeve in a bruising grip.

Though your iron-like grip on his mouth kept Chin-Mae looking at you, his pulse thump thump thumping like a war drum beneath your fingers, you couldn't stop yourself from looking.

It was like a car crash, you couldn't look away. Your eyes wandered around, unable to settle on one specific thing; From the sight of blood stained immaculate floor, to the multiple limbs scattered around the place like morbid decorations, to the bodies of those who had tried to run laying on the floor. They were surprisingly still alive, writing soundlessly as they tried to stop the bleeding. You glanced at where the lawyer had gone to, only to find him alive with a missing leg.

[I..Did I do good? Yes?]

Slowly, you let go of Chin-Mae's shoulder, motioning for him to stay quiet with your hand. You waited until he nodded, before pulling away your palm from his mouth, his hands still gripping your forearm.

His chest rose to hiccup and you were prepared to slam your hand back over his mouth...but he held it it, biting his lip hard enough to make it bleed. A stray tear slowly rolled down his cheek, his trembling hands bound to leave bruises on your arm.

[Then, I-]

The Dokkaebi coughed, its voice returning to normal. "I have to inform you that...that the free service of this planetary system has ended. As of right now you will have to pay for your lives." It looked up, as if listening to someone.

Evidently it wasn't something nice, as a moment later it visibly flinched into itself, almost hugging the galaxy to its chest. "Ri-right, we are already behind schedule!" It began fumbling with something in the galaxy you couldn't see, sweat condensing on its fur in visible drops.

You blinked, a small window emerging in front of your eyes.

[The main scenario has arrived!]

[Main Scenario #1 — Proof of Value]

Category: Main

Difficulty: F

Clear Conditions: Kill one or more living creatures

Time Limit: 30 minutes

Compensation: 300 coins

Failure: Death

You stared at the screen before raising your head enough so you could look around with just your eyes, your thoughts running a mile a minute. Not a single person dared to move a muscle, afraid that doing so would draw the furry fairy's wrath even when the game had already started. You knew you had to be careful too, you weren't the protagonist of TWSA or ORV, and without any powers the information you possessed would only take you so far.

Wait...attributes!

Quietly you whispered 'Attribute Window' under your breath, half expecting to be met with an error message.

Only you didn't receive anything at all.

What?

Turning on your phone once again you scrolled through TWSA, a shiver racing down your spine as you found yourself reading through nearly ten chapters in less than a minute. Then you quickly switched over to ORV, hoping to find something or for something to happen when you read it, though you were unsure how much this information would help you considering you weren't in a train car. But it had worked for Dokja, and you had read it as well...so why wasn't it working for you?

[The Dokkaebi smiled faintly as it became transparent and disappeared into the next space.]

You glanced up at the Dokkaebi. It was still floating in the air, watching the people in the restaurant as if they were the predator and it was the prey. Why? Surely it knew how much power it had over you? And why hadn't it disappeared after giving the announcement? Bihyung had done that in ORV...wait!

You nearly facepalmed, this wasn't Bihyung! It only took you a few seconds to scroll through ORV before you found the creature most resembling the one in front of you: Youngki, the low-level Dokkaebi who took over when Bihyung had been busy. When he had first appeared he didn't know how to show messages; it would make sense why you weren't getting any notifications, he probably didn't know how to turn them on.

But why wasn't Bihyung here? Wasn't he the one streaming in Seoul?

You would have to search for answers to those questions later, right now you had to survive.

You checked the clock, only a single minute had passed, yet you knew if you didn't do something you wouldn't have much time left. In ORV Youngki was a pushover, and now that you had TWSA, you had a better chance of making a deal with him like Dokja had made with Bihyung. And more importantly, you knew how this game worked.

You wouldn't survive playing by the house's rules.

You glanced at the lobster tank, the water had been dyed a scarlet red as the two lobster munched on some unfortunate person's arm.

Then you looked around at the people, every single one of them frozen stock still like statues. Without someone to spark the fear in their hearts to make them act, they would all die. You doubted there were any chuuni in the restaurant to incite the violence as there had been in the train...If you didn't act, you would be no better than them, but could you live with yourself after knowingly sentencing these people to death? How would that make you any better than the monsters or the constellations?

Chin-Mae's trembling pulled you out of your thoughts. Though his hands still clutched your arm like a lifeline and he stared off into space beyond you, the look in his eye told you that it wasn't fear that made his arms shake, but rage.

You made up your mind.

People would die regardless, but in this apocalypse only those willing to fight had a chance of survival.

"Chin-Mae, listen to me." You gently slapped his cheek, cursing to yourself when he continued to stare past you into oblivion, consumed by whatever war was happening in his head. "This is a bad situation, but if you want to see Junior again, you have to listen to me." You hissed, and that got his attention better than a kick in the balls could.

Was it manipulative to use her against Chin-Mae? Maybe, but what choice did you have?

"Really?" Chin-Mae asked, voice barely above a whisper.

You hummed instead of answering and pointed to the lobster tank. "See that?"

He followed your finger with his eyes and nodded when he saw the unlucky crustaceans. You asked him to look at the scenario conditions again, and you could clearly see him reach the same conclusion you had; it never said the living thing had to be human.

You quickly told him your plan in hushed whispers, "Do you understand?" You asked as you pulled your other hand away from him, his fingers lingering on the fabric of your clothes before he let go.

"Ye-Yes." You nodded as he answered, before reaching down to your boot. You grasped the handle before quickly pulling out the knife hidden there, offering it to Chin-Mae.

"Huh?!" Chin-Mae sputtered as he looked at the blade, the metal glinting under the restaurant's lights. "Why-uh...why do you have this?"

You shrugged your shoulder; Now wasn't the time to delve into your skeleton stuffed closet just to answer that question. "I'll tell you later, now shh." You shushed him and urged him to concentrate on the plan, waiting for him to nod in confirmation before you stood up, one hand reaching into your pocket to feel the comforting cold steel of a second blade hidden there.

You felt something at the back your mind tingle, but it disappeared before you could figure out what it was.

Taking a final moment to prepare yourself mentally, you began walking towards the furry fairy. You passed the old lawyer on your way towards it, his silent begging for help with his eyes amusing some dark part of you. Any good person would have tried to help...But you had to concentrate on the living.

After all, you couldn't turn back time, you only had one shot at this.

"Hey, fluffy!" You called, garnering the attention of every pair of eyes in the room, coming to stand as close to the floating creature as you could while still keeping a safe distance.

"Huh, whah?!" It turned around so quick you were surprised it's neck didn't snap. "Are yo-ah- are you talking to me?"

Were there any other furry fairies around? You wondered to yourself, but you quickly realized you had said that out loud as dusty pink patches quickly spread all over his body. "Say," You quickly began, hoping a change of topic would cover up your verbal blunder. "You're new to this streamer business, no?"

Your words made the Dokkaebi jump so hard his horns nearly touched the ceiling. "Wha-how-why-how do you-" He sputtered as he flew down to be right in front of you, the galaxy clutched tightly to his chest like he was a child with a toy.

You couldn't hold back a snort at that thought, quickly waving off Youngki's confused questions. "Well for one, you haven't enabled notifications and messages." You informed him, "I'm certain the constellations would like for us to know what they have to say." You added, aiming to light a small fire under his ass.

The dusty pink patches on Youngki's fur became dark red as he fumbled around with the miniature galaxy in his hands, "I, I, I am so sorry- I" You could see several stars in the miniature galaxy blinking in sync, as if laughing at the pint sized pipsqueak as he stuttered out more apologies, flushing an even deeper shade of red as he realized he didn't know how to do it.

"The 'on' button should be somewhere around...there." You tried to help him, motioning with your hand vaguely to the center of the galaxy in his hand as you recalled reading something about it in TWSA.

After a few moments he seemed to have gotten it working, a low sound of accomplishment leaving him as messages began popping up.

A sharp pain bloomed behind your eyes. You groaned and clutched your head, willing your eyes to stay open as message after message appeared before you. The novels never mentioned anything about the messages making your head hurt...

[#Yo-7623 channel is open]

[The constellations have entered]

[Your reading speed has increased due to the effect of the exclusive attribute '?????']

[You can't activate the Attribute Window]

[Exclusive skill, 'From the Shadows Lv. 1' has been activated in the background]

[You are one step closer to the conditions to use the exclusive skill '????? Lv. ?']

[You are close to the conditions to use the exclusive skill 'Genesis Lv. 1']

[Several Constellations laugh at the Dokkaebi 'Youngki']

[Several Constellations are curious about you]

You waved away the messages with an irritated sound leaving you, the pain behind your eyes disappearing as soon as you did so. You would have to look at those later.

Shaking your head to chase away the lingering pain you turned back to look at Youngki, who was now looking at you with apprehension. "Now then," You began, "Do you what's the fastest killer of infant streams like yours?"

Youngki shook his head like a little kid and floated just a bit closer to you, staring at you as if you had all the answers to the universe, the galaxy still held close to his chest.

"Boredom." You spoke innocently, "Now, I don't know about the constellations, but no sponsor of mine would ever wait half an hour for nothing interesting to happen." You explained, putting your other hand into your pocket, the very embodiment of nonchalance. "Matter of fact, they'd be gone after ten minutes and wouldn't waste their time with you ever again." Something dark inside you found it amusing how the Dokkaebi's face grew more and more horrified as you continued to speak.

[The constellation who likes to change gender nods at your words]

The message scared the little guy even more than your words had; you were certain he would've had a heart attack the moment the message had appeared if he could.

"Fortunately for you, I'm something of an entertainer myself." The devil himself would have been jealous of the charming smile you gave Youngki, "So, how would the mighty constellations like raise the stakes?"

You were playing a dangerous game; like Russian roulette, only the constellations didn't need a gun, bullets, or a kick in the ass from lady luck to cut your life short. You couldn't make any mistakes, after all, there was no way to rewind time.

[You are one step away from being able to use the exclusive skill 'Genesis Lv. 1']

[Several constellations want you to elaborate]

"It's simple really," You shrugged. "A Constellation may choose to take off three minutes off the clock, in exchange for say...a 100 coins added to the overall reward." You explained, adding that the overall time left couldn't be less that 3 minutes, you were human after all.

[Several constellations look at one another]

"Or don't." You shrugged, pulling your hands out of your pockets, the hidden switch blade grasped tightly in your closed fist. "There's no shame in admitting you are afraid to lose your money~" You teased—

[The constellation who likes to change gender laughs at your boldness]

— It was the boldest, and dumbest, thing you could have ever done.

[A constellation has agreed to your terms]

Fortunately for you, fortune favored the bold.

[The time limit has been reduced: 27:24 → 24:24]

[The Compensation has been increased: 300 → 400 coins]

You smirked to yourself, but the smirk fell quickly when a different message popped up.

[The clear conditions have been changed: Kill TWO or more living creatures]

You cursed to yourself. You had known this might happen, yet you still hadn't expected it; a stray line in TWSA echoed in your mind as if to mock you: [The thrill seekers will always ask for more death]

That last message was like a fatal crack in the dam, and soon many more messages flooded your vision, pain blooming in your head as you watched the time rapidly decrease as the compensation increased and clear conditions changed. The other people watched you with growing worry and horror, yet even this wasn't enough to spark their survival instincts into action.

By the end of it, the compensation had risen to 900 coins, the time had decreased to just 9 minutes and 20 seconds, and the kill requirement had risen to 6 or more.

You hummed as you stared at the holographic screen deep in thought. You should temper your greed, yet as you looked up at the Dokkaebi, your eyes positively glinting, you knew you couldn't resist the tempting pull of fooling the 'Divine'.

"You know, if you wanted to make this even more interesting..." You paused, before shaking your head in an exaggerated motion. "No," You waved your hand dismissively, turning on your heel. "I don't think you could afford it."

You were only able to take a single step before the furry fairy had zoomed around to face you at the speed of light, stuttering out pleas to stop. A message from the, no doubt irritated, constellations popped up, only to be waved away without being read. "What?" You asked innocently, a new message appearing before your eyes.

[Some constellations are insulted, and wish to know your offer]

"Double the rewards and you can half the current time by half." You said, before quickly adding. "Without increasing the amount of creatures we have to kill, there are only so many people here." You waved your hand around in a vague gesture. "I swear to you, this will cause quite the commotion, and wouldn't that be entertaining?"

Right as you asked, a holographic video feed popped in the center of the restaurant, screams filling the silent restaurant, showing people killing each other all over the country.

[Die! Die!]

[No, please!]

[Don't hurt me!]

You could tell the specific moment when every single person figured out what you were doing. The collective fear in the restaurant so strong you could feel it on your tongue as you breathed. "So, what do you say?" You asked as if you didn't notice anything, looking up at the small Dokkeabi.

[Multiple constellations consider you a fool]

"Maybe I am," You admitted, "But fools make for great stories."

Your nonchalant answer seemed to shock the people into finding their own. Almost immediately after you had finished people began shouting:

"Don't listen to them!"

"Damn brat do you want us all killed!"

"Please spare me!"

"I don't want this!"

[The constellations accept your offer]

You didn't even wait for the next pop up windows to open, "Chin-Mae, now!" You ordered, your voice silencing all others. Something inside your skull shuddered, a thought that didn't belong to you whispering in your ears:

[The exclusive skill 'From the Shadows Lv. 1' has finished preparing, execute?]

Yes.

[The exclusive skill 'From the Shadows Lv. 1' has been executed]

A shiver raced down your spine, you could feel it in your bones, like something in the bedrock of the world had snapped.

A second later something black flew towards you. You just barely managed to catch it, slamming it violently on to the table, black sludge exploding over your hand, clothes and the people seated there.

...

[You have achieved the ‘First Kill’ achievement!]

[You have killed a living creature]

[100 coins have been earned as additional compensation.]

[You have killed a living creature]

[100 coins have been earned as additional compensation.]

...

Message upon message appeared before your eyes, you were quick to wave them all away before they made you head explode. You stepped back, the seated patrons staring at the crushed lobster eggs staining the tablecloth before looking up at you in bewilderment.

[Several constellations are displeased]

"Oh don't be like that," You rolled your eyes, holding up your hand, still stained black from lobster caviar. "The rules never stated that I had to kill humans, and lobster eggs are living creatures." You wiped off the black sludge staining your hand on the less noticeable portion of your clothes, knowing you would need to find a change of clothes after the scenario was over; blood and lobster sludge did not look good on you. "It isn't my fault you left the rules so vague."

[The constellation ‘Children of Mischief and Chaos’ are impressed by your scheme]

[The constellation who likes to change gender is impressed by your wit]

By mere chance you glanced to your side, only to see Chin-Mae standing in front of the lobster tank, the female lobster wriggling in his hold as it tried to protect the valuable eggs held under her tail. His other hand held the eggs, yet you could see it shaking, all of his attention concentrated on the videos of slaughter that were still playing above you.

"Chin-Mae, you moron, destroy tho!-"

You slapped your palm over your mouth as soon as your voice had registered in your brain, but it was in vain.

Every single person turned to Chin-Mae, ready to descend upon him like rabid dogs.

What have you done...

"Get him!"

[The constellations laugh at you]

[manwhamania]

Liar, liar

Who is hurt more, you or Joonghyuk?

-----

Word Count: 179

Characters: Yoo Joonghyuk

Warnings: Mentions of Violence

----

“I’ll hurt whoever did this to you.” Yoo Joonghyuk’s words are not an empty promise, they are a vengeful threat, the bitter words of a man who would never lie to you. The tired words of a man who would die for you. Over and over again. Perhaps he already has.

It’s sweet, the way Joonghyuk frets over the minuscule scratch adorning your cheek. Even now, his hand flutters just above the mark, eyes hardening with distaste. 

“You’re hurt.” You retort chidingly, trying your best to bandage the mass of wounds your Joonghyuk had returned to you with. He’d rolled in, clutching his side with an agonized expression, but it had all fallen apart when met with your “fatal injury”. 

“I am not hurt.” 

“Joonghyuk…” your tone is filled with a warning– you change your earlier thoughts, your lover is a filthy, filthy liar. 

“Tell me who did this to you.”

You sigh, in another, more peaceful life, Joonghyuk’s broodiness would’ve been a perfect addition to a Broadway show, “As soon as you admit you’re hurt.”

“...”

“Kim Dokja–”

“That’s cheating!”

[raracha]

!! 𝑺𝑳𝑶𝑾 𝑼𝑷𝑫𝑨𝑻𝑬𝑺 !!

⌗【 𝗩𝗔𝗥𝗜𝗢𝗨𝗦! 𝗚𝗘𝗡𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗡 × [𝗡𝗔𝗠𝗘] 】

❝ They were the only one that knew how

this story ends ❞

█▓▒░ ░▒▓█ █▓▒░ ░▒▓█

✎ An average person whose sole interest was playing their favorite game after a long day. But when the game becomes reality, they are the only one who knows how the game finishes.

█▓▒░ ░▒▓█ █▓▒░ ░▒▓█

𝗚𝗲𝗻𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗻 𝗜𝗺𝗽𝗮𝗰𝘁 × 𝗢𝗿𝗩

[weirdsht]

"Would u like to hear me yap about regressor!reader x cale? (⁠｡⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠｡⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠♡ or not? ^⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠^" "If it's a fic prompt why not? 👀"

OKKKKK 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻 .

Ughhh imagine Cale and the gang with someone who regressed because of them and they had no clue about it. In the 1st timeline, everything was fine, they meet the fam, do crazy things, and form relationships until they realized a lot of their companions get hurt or shockingly die. They were a transmigrator like Cale as well, they read the TCF novel, so they were heavily confused a lot of times when out of expectations scenarios happened. Like why are things that never happened in the TCF novel keep happening?

One time they died, then unexpectedly regressed to the starting line, like they came back to the place and age they first gained vision of the TCF world. They try to make everyone safe all while forming unbreakable bonds with her companions at heart.

Sooo in the end they find out that everything happened because of their existence. They were an anomaly, something that shouldn't mess with the original plotline for the journey of Cale Henituse and his family, so that was why they were the target, but somehow, their enemies end up causing harm to the wrong people a lot of times because they try to fight before reader can even lift a finger. Though, none of them know that every time reader dies by their enemy's hands, they regress to their own starting point before they meet everyone. Timeskip they end up dying again lol

In the third timeline, angst and shi, they avoid everyone since they were the main characters and they weren't her enemy's enemy. Thankfully, they survive until the end of the war.

Imagine reader and their loved ones meet again :(( they don't remember about them but somehow the gang keeps stumbling upon reader and they keep seeing weird scenarios and thoughts about reader which confuses them to the max (AND WHY IS READER VISIBLY AVOIDING THEM??? Sus) because they've never met this person before, especially Cale

Insert guilty as sin's "I'm seeing visions, am i bad or mad or wise?" LOLOL

If it's too long or u can't understand the shit i just spilled, it's ok to js keep this as an unanswered ask

I just like to yap and overshare 😭💟

Apparently Not - LoTCF & Regressor! Reader

tags: gender-neutral reader, regressor reader, vague novel spoilers, hurt/comfort (not sure if it hurts though), very loosely inspired by how orv uses the disconnected film theory

English isn’t my first language so there will be grammatical errors

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

Constructive criticisms and any kind of interaction are more than welcome

Requests are currently closed but my ask are still open (read navi)

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Navigation Masterlist

The first time was confusing.

Scenarios that did not happen in the novel kept happening. For some reason despite Cale’s actions being mostly the same, the timeline has taken another course. Things did not go their way. It seems like the enemies are cunning too. They laid out plans that [name] had never read before. Their inadequacy caused the regressor to die at the hands of the magic spearman.

The second time was devastating.

[Name] thought that they got it this time. Thought that they had prepared enough even if things went south.

But why..?

Why is nothing going Cale’s way?

Why are they still losing?

Why is the sword of disaster piercing their heart?

Why are Raon’s teary eyes the last thing they could see before they die?

[Name] thought they were prepared. They thought that with the help of the original novel and their first regression, they could get through everything.

But that was not the case. Time and time again things that did not happen before kept happening. No matter what they did all the favours stack up to the White Star’s favour.

In the [Name] died whilst unable to do anything.

The third time felt like an enlightenment.

“Haa–!!”

Huff. Huff

[Name] woke up with a jolt. They could still feel the fiery sword piercing through their skin and bones. However, when they touch where they have been stabbed there’s nothing there. Their body was perfectly intact as if everything was merely a nightmare.

They must be back then. Back in the starting line. Back to the time when Cale and the others have not met the regressor yet.

‘If I don’t insert myself into the narrative maybe things will go according to the novel?’

Yeah, that must be it.

And so [name] did their best to blend in as a background character. Of course, they still helped behind the scenes. But they made sure to stay out of the spotlight. They have been better at doing that compared to Cale anyway.

They manage to both survive and not have any run-ins with what used to be their family for a long time. It hurt [name] to deliberately avoid the people they love the most, but it had to be done. They can’t be selfish for it will cause the world’s demise.

However, everything changed during the war against White Star.

“Have I met you somewhere before?”

Alberu asks them as they bump into each other after the battle on the Stan Territory. This sent [name] into a mild frenzy. Their original goal was to just weaken the enemies from the shadows, help free the prisoners and then disappear as they they never existed. But now they have come face-to-face with Alberu.

“I wasn’t aware that the rising sun of our kingdom was such a flirt.”

It took everything in the regressor to not cry. Just seeing the quarter-dark elf’s face was enough to make them emotional. Enough to make them remember all those late nights they have spent together talking. All the days they spent bonding over baking. All those talks they had about Cale being a headache.

Not able to take any more overwhelming emotion, [name] excused themself. Disappearing in the shadows once more. Leaving Alberu confused at the interaction.

That night Alberu had dreams of ranting all his dongsaeng problems to a certain regressor that he was sure he had never met before.

What [name] thought was a one-time thing became a frequent occurrence.

Choi Han, Raon, On, Hong, Ron, Beacrox, Rosalyn, Eruhaben…

[Name] kept running into them like a joke by fate.

As if the world wanted to rub it in their face that they could never be part of that family. That their presence will only bring them demise.

So every time they have a run-in with one of them they run away. They didn’t care if they looked like a frightened dog with its tail tucked between its legs. Didn’t care if the interaction always left the other party confused. Could not care if sometimes tears are pooling in their eyes when they have to turn their back once more.

That was until [Name] encountered Cale.

The one person they have been avoiding the most.

Others were fine. Sure it hurts having to run away from them but [name] can just cry it off for 2 nights and they’ll be able to function once more.

But not with Cale.

They can never run away from Cale.

Hence why silence lingered over them as they stared eye-to-eye. Both of them did not break eye contact even when a lone tear dripped on [name]’s cheek.

“I-I’m sorry I don’t know what’s gotten over me. I must’ve confused you for someone I know.”

[Name] tried to hastily wipe their tears as more flowed from their eyes. Their dam of emotions finally overflowed upon meeting Cale and there was nothing the regressor could do to stop it.

“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I’ll get out of your way now.”

They couldn’t see the redhead’s expression due to their tears. However, they were sure he was looking at them weirdly. The mere thought of it hurts, but it’s not as if [name] could blame him since he didn’t know them

Thus why they are now trying to walk away from the situation.

Keyword being try.

How could they when Cale is holding onto their wrist? When he pulled them back in his direction to wipe their tears away?

“You must’ve suffered quite a bit.”

Cale mumbled in their hair as he let the regressor cry in his chest.

The action confused [name]. Cale was kind, but not this kind towards strangers.

“What do you–”

[Name] tried to ask but Cale shoved their face in his chest more to prevent them from speaking.

“[Name]... My records never lied to me. The moment I saw you, recordings of our past timeline resurfaced.”

Ah, so that’s why…

“Then you must also know why I went this route. Let me go…”

Please let me go before I lose my will to fight.

Please let me go before I fall for your warmth once more.

Please…

“No, your place is with us. Everything will work out this time. I promise.”

Cale stroked [name]’s hair. He has no plans of letting them be on their own again. They’re family, even if Cale has to flip the world upside-down just to make sure they will remain one.

“You’ve been away for long enough. Let’s go home now.”

[bunbitti]

rules and stuff

I take ~3 requests at a time, also don't rush me pls

Taken: 0/3

Fandoms I know/might write for (may be updated later when I think of more):

Honkai Star Rail

Zenless Zone Zero

Return of the Blossoming Blade/Return of the Mount Hua Sect

Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint

The World After the Fall

Detroit: Become Human

Maybe other manhwas/series if I've read them (you can try asking if it's not on the list, I can and will write for side characters if I'm attached to them enough lmao)

Fandoms that are a maybe:

Jujutsu Kaisen

The Avengers

Naruto

Attack on Titan

Haikyuu!!

Harry Potter

Undertale/Deltarune

Fandoms I don't write for (this means I either definitely have not read or interacted with the series or don't see myself writing for it much/at all, so that you don't waste your time asking)

Miraculous Ladybug

Boruto

Percy Jackson

Disney, Pixar, etc. movies and stuff?? I didn't have a childhood if you couldn't tell already, and I also don't really watch movies

other sports animes (I'm sorry I just never watched them and I wouldn't have the time to start)

Characters I can do (predominantly male, I can't guarantee any quality for female characters):

HSR - Gepard, Sampo, Dr. Ratio, Aventurine, Boothill, Sunday, Jiaoqiu, Moze, MAYBE Jing Yuan, Argenti, Luocha, Dan Heng, Welt, etc.

ZZZ - Wise, Anton, Billy Kid, Lycaon, Seth

ROTBB - Lee Songbaek/Isongbaek/이소백 (x reader-only for him, no ships; there's not enough x-reader and plenty of ship fics for him already), MAYBE main characters/anyone else

ORV - most people, just not x-reader beyond platonic because I can't really see it

TWAF - Carlton/Karlton, maybe others

DBH - Connor, RK900, Hank, Gavin, others maybe

Topics I can do:

sfw, fluff, headcanons, etc.

nsfw (I might not be so good at the explicit stuff, but we can try)

AUs - soulmate, college/modern, royalty, etc.

depression/similar topics (only because I'm likely depressed)

character x reader, if I like that character enough and/or could see them in a relationship with the reader; platonic and romantic both allowed

some ships, only if I'm confident I can pull it off

Topics I won't do:

dubcon/noncon/toxic/abusive stuff (especially between shipped characters or in x-reader relationships) beyond what is already in character, I've had enough of that abusive stuff irl, I don't need it in my writing (having it in a backstory is ok as long as we're doing recovery/healing from it or something)

gore? idk

pedo/zoo/etc.

nsfw if the character(s) is/are minor(s), regardless of if they're shipped with another minor

mental illnesses/other conditions that I'm not familiar with and wouldn't be confident in getting accurate

aging up characters (unless we're talking about canonical versions that exist, like post-timeskip in Haikyuu where characters have jobs and/or are in uni)

whatever I'm not comfortable with

x reader:

unless otherwise requested or stated, will be gender neutral

if it's important to you, you can specify details about the reader (height, size, other physical characteristics, backstory, etc.), otherwise unfortunately I am not a mind reader

likely in 2nd or 3rd person, very unlikely to be 1st person

General:

the more specific you are in the request, the better (sometimes I worry about not getting things how people were thinking of it in their heads lmao)

will probably be short-ish (see the lengths of existing fics) unless by some miracle I have more inspiration

I may be inconsistent af, haha

Don't request nsfw if you're a minor, and don't interact with my nsfw content if you're a minor

Uhh yeah, this should be it, I'll update it when rules change

[loser-o]

Introduction:

⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅

Hi, I go by Milo and I’m an amateur writer. I wanna get more into writing so I’m (finally) using this blog for requests for sfw posts.

My requests are open!

Current interests/fandoms:

Bsd

Jjk

Haikyuu

Black Clover

Kny

Mp100

Bnha

Hxh

Howl’s Moving Castle

Orv

Assassination Classroom

Twisted Wonderland

Obey me! Shall we date?

Wuthering Waves

Tdlosk

Atsv

Genshin impact

Ohshc

(Will be updated occasionally and bolded is media I’m more invested in/have a better understanding of or am more willing to write for)

Rules:

I will write for male or gender neutral reader (this includes ftm readers.) I will also write for ships with in the fandoms (if I personally ship it/ can see the ship working.) I will write for gay and straight ships(this applies for x readers as well)!! I will not write for proships, incest, or fem readers.

When requesting please include a baseline of what you would like! (Can include scenarios, specific pronouns, headcanons, ships, ect.) Don’t be afraid to request either!! Angst, fluff, and suggestive asks are things I will write, please do not request smut. If you request something I’m uncomfortable with I will let you know for future reference.

(Also please be patient with me as I’m still learning how to use tumblr even tho I’ve had it for more then a year.)

I would like to make it clear that this blog is a safe space for anyone who needs it 🫶

[your-local-biromantic-ace]

Accepting Requests!!

[Closed]

I don't really have much to do so I'll be doing request cause those seem fun, so feel free to send me any requests you have!!

- I generally write "x reader" stuff, but i don't mind writing about ships between characters, as long as it's not illegal or weird.

- the fandom I will be writing for is Lookism, only since I'm more confident in writing that (might do orv requests in future tho!! "

- I will be writing drabbles, one shots, headcanons.

- I won't be doing any nsfw or detailed gore. Might do suggestive stuff tho(?) (Not sure, but I'll try!!) . Also I don't mind requests which include depression, anxiety, etc so feel free to request them.

- I will only write gender neutral! Reader, so please keep that in mind when writing "x reader" requests.

- Please be specific w/ requests, it helps me to write them. BUT, I won't mind doing 'headcanons i have for x character' Or something like that.

[3smos]

warning: drabble. dom reader. sub character. drabble. gender neutral. hand job. overstimulation.

kim dokja curls into himself, his fingers gripping at your freshly cleaned clothes as if that'll bring him back to his senses.

his entire body burns but he holds himself down from removing your hand.

"fuck, fuck... hn..." dokja pants loudly, his hips bucking and fucking himself in your hand wrapped loosely around his throbbing cock.

you asked the man to show you how much of a good boy he could be. it surprising how far he'll go to prove himself.

dokja's hand shoots out to grip your forearm as you dig your thumb in his slit, beads of precum rolling out and helping you in the process. you used it as lube.

"ah waitwaitwait!!" you quickly remove your hand, watching his squirm in your lap. he whines loudly, dropping his head in the crook of your neck.

he gulps, swallowing the little saliva he had in his mouth. he licks his red, and bruised lips, planting a gentle kiss to your neck.

"i never said to s-stop..." you rub his back, trying to soothe him through his denied orgasm. dokja grinds against you, panting into your ear as his sensitivity heightens once again.

"you don't have a choice."

...

[3smo]

hcs for kim dokja !

warning: dom reader. sub characters. gender neutral. sex hcs. virgin kdj. corruption kink. mind breaking. whether you prefer a strap or dick, i use 'dick/cock' doesn't mean the reader has a gender. dumbification. fingering.

✿ disclaimer — I only write for characters 18+. if you don't like my content, please block me.

@lvyino this is for you 😩😳

yoo jonghyuk.

dokja is most likely a virgin. in all his life, he's never even touched someone in a way so intimately nor has someone done the same to him.

poor baby gets so nervous when he wanted to have his first time, he automatically thought he was suppose to go on top since between the two of you, you were the most gentle one. he assumed you've never had sex before and he wanted you to be comfortable.

but he's also competitive and prideful, he'll try his best to please you. please don't laugh at him when he tries to praise you, it's awkward and even he knows it.

so grab his face and smash your lips together, he also whimpers into them which makes it much hotter.

as soon as he found out who was way more experienced, he gave his body and mind to you. i think he felt relieved too, and being on top just made him uncomfortable.

absolutely loves when you mark him up. he'd be moaning and gasping if you do. the next morning he'll get super embarrassed, even though he was the one who asked for it. i think he likes how it contrasts against his skin color. sensitive spots are his inner thighs and collarbones, so make sure to leave as much as you can.

so the first time he received head, he thought it was going to be easy to just get what he wants. especially since you're very gentle with him, kissing down his body and whispering praises to him. he was feeling confident.

then suddenly that gentleness was replace with something else. no matter how many times he whines for you to please let him finish, you never gave in. only until you felt the need to.

probably cries and sobs when nearing his orgasm.

he cries out loud and squirms around to push you off, although, he's gripping any part of you he can to keep you on him. his body quivers a lot during sex, even having many after shocks.

being corrupted was probably a hidden fantasy of his, though he automatically knew he liked it when you kept getting rougher with him. he liked the change and the challenge.

so dokja wants to keep up with you, he wants to turn it into a game to see who can break first, he probably becomes very bratty, talks back and shit but i don't think you'd mind, seeing how comfortable enough he was to act like that.

or it was just an act to cover up how shy he really was. which is true.

the easiest way to break him; fucking him at a slow pace, make sure you're looming over him and he can barely move. it makes him feel small and so good. all he can do is cry and grip at the bed sheets.

"pleasepleaseplease!!" he'd repeat, eyes shut tightly and head thrown back. you kept your slow, agonizing pace. he would try to move back on your dick but due to the position he was in, he couldn't.

"gah! i- please! im sorry!" he'd beg and sob for forgiveness, wanting to cum so badly, but it just wouldn't happen. he's gotten so used to be fucked roughly, he can't handle when you're being slow.

you simply coo at him, wiping the tears from his face and left a lingering kiss to his lips. he tries to chase after it.

"we're going at this pace, or we're stopping." kim dokja was already too turned on from this, it couldn't stop now!

another way is through humiliation - imagine how surprised everyone would be if they found out how he acted in bed. how a little feathery touch to his nipples gets him hard. or how much he loves to get filled up.

he also has very sensitive nipples. they get swollen very easily, and if you play with them too much, he could barely wear a shirt without his nipples rubbing against the fabric.

"you look so dumb!" you laugh at his face, he can't help but tear up. anyone would've thought he hated it, but he keep leaking even more everytime you spoke to him like this!

"bet you can barely even think, can you darling?"

he tries his best to keep his composure, you find it adorable. his cheeks were flushed, his body was bruised with bite marks and hickeys. its obvious to anyone what was going on inside your room. he's so loud.

he'll try prove to you that he can still think, and the attempt is so pathetic and whiny.

kim dokja would think you were very easy.

seeing as you love to touch him. it's so easy to get you to kiss him or cuddle with him. but he was so easy to give in to every little thing you did to him.

was he the easy one?

another head cannon that i can't stop thinking about is wet dreams. dokja has lots of them, he fantasies about lots of things he wants you to do with him. they will either come from his own mouth, or someone will expose him for it.

it always happens.

when dokja wakes up from one, he immediately tries to shake it off. his heart is beating rapidly and he's sweating all over.

he dreams of lots of things.

you in a garter belt. being tied up at your mercy. getting spanked.

dokja would never think of getting spanked before but when you slap his hand away from... anything (ex: when he tries to touch himself or you.) he'll let out a loud whine at the sting but it felt good... he imagined how it would feel on his ass.

uuhh getting choked with your thighs, hands. dokja has a wild imagination. so imagine what would happen if they were exposed?!

do you know how embarrassed dokja would get! so he better get to telling you about them before they burst out.

moving on from that topic.

have you seen his waist?! grip it, doesn't matter if its bruising or he gets ticklish, dokja finds it so hot when you're holding onto his waist and fucking him from behind.

i honestly think dokja would be embarrassed about getting fingered. but not by having your dick inside him?

he hides his face a lot, and tries to close his legs, maybe its cause his sensitivity gets really high from humiliation.

so restricting him with bondage will help. his legs are set apart, the rope from his ankle is keeping him from squirming away.

now he's even more embarrassed about it. his legs are wide open and you can see everything. from his twitching cock to his shy expressions.

there's something dokja can't live without and that's being touched.

it doesn't matter whether you're degrading him or being mean to him. physical contact is something he yearns for behind closed doors. just hold him and he'll melt, he will try to bring you closer whenever he can, even if its impossible.

so not touching him would be punishment for him.

i don't think he'll liked to be punish either, he'll try his best to be a good boy, but he has a little tinge of brattiness to him. poor baby doesn't like it when you're mad at him :((

· · ·

[slowd1ving]

Hi! If you're not taking reqs then feel free to ignore this but could you write Kim dokja angst? Maybe we're switching the roles and the reader is dying instead of dokja for once lmao

HOUSE OF CARDS ゜・KIM DOKJA

"A house made of cards, like the fools we are." In which a gambler finally pays the price for his bet. never actually written angst so I hope this is good enough anon art creds to kim28_dokja on twt! pairings: kim dokja + gn reader warnings: blood, injury, death, references to child abuse/dokja's past wc: 2.4k

ORV MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST ・゜・NAVIGATION

Dokja is shit at games. 

It’s clear to the dealer. Even on the best day, those omnipotent palms that allocate fate will grow clammy (which they never do) and that ever-present smile slowly turns into a profound grimace. They know. They feel it instinctually, on a cellular level: that hand was terrible. 

It’s clear to the people around him. The salaryman stumbles into the building as though he’s just learned to walk: in never-polished shoes, slacks that perpetually crease further with each nervous wipe of his hands, and the clinging scent of smoke that preludes his entrance. He’s not got his life together, they observe, behind stony poker faces he can never quite master. That’s why he’s here.

Most of all, it’s clear to Kim Dokja himself. Every irregular heartbeat pulses in his throat as he gazes at his cards—two seven offsuit. In his sweat-streaked fingers is the short straw urging him to enlist. On the table before him are all his chess pieces, lined up neatly: spectators to the constant check, his inevitable downfall. 

Despite his atrocious luck, the thin red string binding him to this world never quite severs. A fire befalls the casino. A bullet embeds itself in the shell of his helmet and not a hair further. The chess game is postponed by a phone call and the poignant sound of shattering glass—and Dokja is left to shoulder the limbo of an unfinished game.

He’s shit at games, but never truly loses. 

Is it simply up to chance? A coin is tossed into the air: another foolish plan devised, another chip placed that equates to one of his lives. Crisis after crisis—Dokja, that harbinger of misfortune—yet each time, he resurrects. He bets on it, in fact: quite literally gambling away everything. 

It is just how things are. He cuts corners. He smooth-talks the fates into letting his transgressions slide just a little longer. For once, he’s winning, and the grand prize is something beyond his wildest dreams—an ending, to mark the indefinite uncertainty of chapters that seem to grow like nebulae. 

“Dokja.” It’s a sigh each time when he defies the end. Anyone else would interpret it as exasperation, but he likes to think he knows you better than that; it’s relief you greet him with, no matter how many times he sacrifices himself. “You idiot.”

It’s nice to know his long-time friend cares about him. 

No matter how many times he places his bets, the value of his life never seems to deprecate for you. Sacrifice is something you’d rather avoid (so does he, but it cannot always be helped, right?). If Dokja’s life can be used to save more of the people he cares about, all the better. 

In fact, he’d rather keep you away from any front line. 

There’s a story of its own between the two of you: years of scraped knees and violence, of gazing up at your shoulders while you bruise your knuckles with whoever bruised his eye, of friendship pacts forged with spat-on palms and corded bracelets. 

Your very soul is entwined with his scrawny one from years past, and it’s always been the case that yours has fought the battles in his stead. ‘Why?’ he’d once asked, and he still vividly remembers the cool response you attempted to give, only to end up fumbling the words. 

Because I can. Because I want to. Because you deserve it. 

It’s his turn to repay his debts. These fights are no longer about a bloodied mouth and spitting red onto the asphalt. They don’t end with bruised ribs and broken noses. 

You sit out. This one, he thinks grimly, is his fight—one that will guarantee both you and him turning the page on ◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼. Every factor has been considered. Each risk is carefully mitigated at the expense of himself. None of the contingencies fail to prioritise his oldest friend. 

These are chips he cannot afford to bet on. 

Naturally, he keeps them close to his chest. 

゜゜・

Dokja is shit at games. 

His friends know it all too well. Those disbelieving laughs they let out, their fists clenching and unclenching as they debate whether to hit him across the head—Dokja, the herald of despair, he is—and finally the rush of words leaving their mouths like air deflating from a balloon: “Never do that again.”

All in, his chips go—each and every time. There is no other way about it: not unless you shackled Dokja to you in vain to make him listen—to stop the endless deaths he goes through. Over and over, until you feel his mind wear into recklessness, until you see the emptiness that taints his eyes as he slips into quiet contemplation.

How will Dokja die this time?

You’d rather erode into nothingness than clip his wings, though. That book he gushed about to you (syllables rushing over themselves in his excitement each update) gave him back his life—if you ruin his painstaking ◼◼◼◼◼◼◼, you don’t think you could forgive yourself.

Even if he’s ratcheting to Icarian heights. Those feathers of his are beginning to streak wax-hot down man-made frames, made of pages upon pages of a book obsolete to all but one dedicated reader. 

You think he can see the pain in your eyes, before he turns away with lips pressed together tightly. You’ll be safe, he reassured you. You’ve got me. I’ll create an epilogue for you to witness. 

Dokja’s changed. 

Those scrawny shoulders have become something that the very sky settles on: ones that no longer shake behind your own arms. The world has bruised you, and Dokja shall bruise it back. Every favour, repaid tenfold. 

Dokja’s changed. 

He’s still got the same facade of the boy you’ve called your oldest friend. If it weren’t for that, you’d think the man who coldly settles his death were a stranger. Someone you never shook hands with, childishly grimacing at the remains of a spat-upon pact rubbing into small palms. 

Dokja’s changed. 

He thinks he no longer causes misfortune with each risk he takes—as if his life were a mere trifle, as if each shred of news about him doesn’t shatter your heart over and over. 

When will it end? 

You haven’t seen him for months. 

Is it finally time to grieve?

゜゜・

Dokja is shit at games. 

It seems you are too. He turns the page of his book, and beside him the house of cards is carefully stacked on the glass table. It’s a precarious matter: high stakes against yourself, an unsafe tightrope that threatens to give way any moment now. 

Your eyes meet his. 

Like magic, the house collapses. 

゜゜・

You are shit at games. 

You take a deep breath, and begin organising what could be the final legacy of Dokja. It’s something he treasured even over his life, evidently: the ending, which you allow into your soul in the Kim Dokja-shaped hole left behind. 

It’s the first time you take a gamble: carefully picking up the shards of his ideas while rivulets of blood run down your fingers. It’s your turn. 

The battlefield in the scenarios is a sanctuary: white noise washing out Dokja’s ever-persistent voice in your head. There’s a perpetual, acrid smell of ash and smoke—a reek that is far better than the dust of buildings Dokja leaves you behind in. 

It’s hard. 

Gambling is not for you; in the sense that it sickens you, rather than just invoking disaster like it does for Dokja. The only good thing about it is that Dokja’s dream is finally being realised—a tribute to your oldest, dearest friend. Like funerary wine, metallic iron fills your mouth (a once-familiar taste) with each battle, every step closer to the story Dokja wove for you. A fabric so salient you couldn’t help but be entangled in it. 

I can do it. That is your gamble. 

You do it. 

You cut down monsters the size of buildings. You cling to life with bleeding fingernails, scraped raw with tenacity. Tentatively, you begin fleshing in the husk of yourself: talking with the friends you made in the apocalypse once more.

And like Dokja, you begin defying death. 

It starts off small—an arrow that you saw coming but didn’t feel like dodging. Jung Heewon almost blew a gasket when she took a glimpse, but then her eyes met yours—filled with the same distance that Dokja’s were, as though you too were peering through an impersonal screen—and she looked away for a brief moment. 

“Idiot,” she whispers. “Don’t treat yourself like Dokja.”

Your chips pile up. 

Except, you don’t quite have the same privilege that your dearest friend has. 

You will incur the cost, rather than somebody else. There is a reason Dokja is called a harbinger of ill fortune to others, and you are not. In the end, your downfall will be at your own hand. 

“Fool,” Yoo Joonghyuk grimaces as he cuts down a wolf you let claw your arm. The coppery stench is thick in the air, but there seems to be a manic grin on your face as you slice and chop and stab: a madness that slowly spreads like illness through your body. “There is nothing more worthless than sacrifice without cause.”

The debt accrues. 

Kim Dokja dreams of your knuckles, bloodied once more as you stand to face the world. But, it’s just a dream. 

He bets on it. 

゜゜・

You are shit at games. 

Bitter, arterial blood congeals on your hands as you try in vain to staunch the flow. There is nothing quite as caustic as the realisation that you fucked up, because now all the signs of your hamartia are clear. 

The house has long collapsed—it’s that final card that still hasn’t hit that glass table yet. 

Is this what Dokja feels? The thought runs wonderingly through your sluggish mind. Is it what he felt, you mean to say, but your throat grows thick whenever you speak about him in the past tense. You can’t quite accept the reality that he’s gone. The shock anaesthetises your mind: cradling your neurons with such gentleness that it’s hard to conceptualise you’re about to follow him to wherever he’s gone. 

Will I see him again?

Everything reeks of iron: from the massive corpse on the ground, to the claw impaled through your abdomen. It was inevitable. You’ve grown tired of the endless fight, and it’s cost you dearly. 

Your chest heaves desperately. 

Dokja. 

“Dokja,” you croak, collapsing onto the rubble freshly decimated. Despite the rough surface, your blood-slicked hands scrabble for purchase on the concrete—something that doesn’t quite feel like you’re the one puppeteering your strings. 

Deliriously, you watch as the same hand urgently attempts to apply pressure to your wound; it goes against rationality, but then again you’re not really yourself anymore. 

“Dokja?” you try again. Perhaps if you speak loudly enough—syllables soaked with sanguine that dribbles from your lips—you’ll be able to reach your dead best friend. 

There is a pressure behind your eyes. 

It may be tears; it may be an unwelcome guest in your head. 

It’s too late, you think. He’s dead, and soon I will be too. 

“Dokja,” you whisper, and there is salt on your tongue as you feel your limbs grow colder. Everything hurts—your pounding head, the thrum of your pulse as you marr the asphalt with crimson, and finally that stupid bleeding heart of yours that swears you can hear the spirit of your oldest friend. 

You can’t die, you think he says—a quiet scream drowned out by the static of your mind. 

“I’ll see you soon, though,” you slur, and the weight in your mind lifts—blurring and coalescing into a mirage you could recognise blind. 

Frigid fingers pass through the hologram, and you smile, bittersweet. 

“Dokja,” you breathe. “It’s been almost a year since I last saw you.”

His hands grasp your shoulders desperately, though his frantic mouth goes unheard upon your ears. You… can’t… die, his lips read—but that’s silly, you think. Doesn’t he want you to meet him again?

Horns curve out of his head, while his wings fluff out—shoulders shaking, with an expression you’ve only seen once on his face before. Utmost grief, when he came soaked in congealed blood and a haunted look in his eyes: murmuring she killed him, over and over. 

He’s your best friend. He was your best friend. 

Kim Dokja has lost his final gamble, and the bullet in the chamber has finally been spun into place for you too. 

“I can see you soon, right?” you murmur—there are cold fingers brushing against your forehead, and you think death is unexpectedly gentle. 

His lips wobble. 

Incorporeal fingers trace the tear tracks on your face—ones that mirror the slow stream of salt from his own eyes. You didn’t even notice—too caught up in the gradual greyness that spreads through each vessel, weaving through sinew and bone and brain. 

“I did a good job, right?” Your sword rests across the ground, heavy after almost a year of fighting. “Maybe it’ll help with the ending that you wanted.”

Dokja’s face crumples, and you can feel your own throat growing thick. Dokja, I’m scared, you want to admit. For the first time in your life, there’s a choking fear that grips you as the red surrounding you blooms into a field. 

Your own wings are rapidly coming apart. 

“Dokja, I don’t want to die,” you mumble. Struggling, you curl and uncurl your hands into fists, but you can no longer feel them. 

“Dokja,” you try again. You can no longer see him, but whether it’s from the salt clouding your vision, or the haze of limbo, you cannot tell. 

There is a phantom pressure that lingers on your face. 

“Dokja,” you gurgle, mouth iron-hot with arterial blood. “Don’t leave me alone—please.”

No response is given, but that sepulchral presence seems to remain—this time, those hands brush and cradle your face. 

You cannot tell if it’s him or death itself, but you don’t think death would kiss you like that. 

As if he could possibly breathe life back into you, his ghostly lips move against yours. Desperately, so urgently you half-wonder at his panic. 

Dokja, you want to ask. You’re already dead, right?

Right? 

With the final scraps of your vision, you watch as he pulls back—his tears pattering across your face—watch as his mouth moves for a final time.

I can’t live without you.

But by then, it is too late.

The words go unheard, and Dokja is alone once again.

[blissblossom]

Kimcom, esp Dokja r so unhinged. I love them sm <3 (U made me cry sm orv)

KIM DOKJA BOYFRIEND TEXTS AND TWEETS

kim dokja x gender neutral reader

established relationship, canon compliant, beginningish of manwha, in a world where you guys have access to twitter. you both know you’re in a novel.

this is for a very niche audience aka me and @ihearttori also pls ignore the mistake in slide 5 i used the wrong account it’s supposed to be yjh

[3smo]

Hello there! I hope you are doing well and congratulations on 1k! Can I request Kim Dokja with gender neutral reader with prompt 8?

• "i've been thinking about you all day." (#8)

warning: dom reader. gender neutral. i was waiting for someone to request him 😌. needy reader, dokja's whipped. humping. breath play. slight spoilers. kinda friends w/ benefits. 'cocklet' is used once.

823 words.

1k event!

kim dokja wasn't used to tender touches. or that loving stare. or the words that come from your mouth. he wouldn't believe it himself. not even after you confessed to him.

he was stuck in a hole of madness and insecurities, he found himself pathetic. even more after he rejected your confession, and these dreams he's having. always waking up in a sweat, growing erection in his pants. he would look for you through his blurry vision, stumbling to you and striked a deal.

it surprised you, kim dokja; the 28 year old constellation who's still a virgin asked you for a sex deal? impossible.

unfortunately, or fortunately, dreams aren't reality and you had lots of stamina. by the end of a session, he would be left out of breath, knees wobbly and too scared to even walk out of your room, as anyone could tell what happened.

a rush of excitement coursed through his veins when he thought of the pleasure you would bring him.

he walks to your room a little quicker. before he could knock on your door, you swing it open, surprise to see him in front of your room. dokja gulps, heart thumping louder, he thinks you could even hear it. "sorry.. um-"

you pull him into your room, shutting the door close, before you bring him into a kiss.

"i've been think about you all day." you kiss down his neck, hands slipping under his shirt and roaming around his back. dokja whimpers loudly, hands resting on your shoulders.

dokja moans in surprise, unbuttoning his shirt as quick as he could - his shirt drapping off his shoulders, exposing his chest but you were in a rush that you didn't even care, lips quickly latching onto his nipple.

"yo-you have...?" you confirm it was a soft 'mhm'.

you push him against the wall, knees in between his thighs. you press your hips to his, his cocklet twitching to life in his pants.

"hah!" he wiggles around, holding onto your shirt for his dear life. he was left wide open for you. you could do anything you wanted to him and he'd let you!

he pushes his hips to yours, crying out loud at the pleasure. you eagerly do the same. your ministrations on his nipples caused him to grip onto your head, whining in your ear. he looked down at himself, forming hickeys littered all over his chest and neck.

he squirms on your thigh, clenching his legs around your own. he slides down the wall, you followed in pursuit, laying him down the floor gently.

dokja urges you to get on top of him, whining incoherent words and pulling at your clothes. you straddle his thigh, your own pressing against his crotch.

dokja smiles at you, he liked the effect he had over you...

"i made sure to - ugh, to close the star stream...!" you nod at him, holding his waist to control his desperate movements.

"good boy." dokja throws his head back, rolling his hips onto yours. he likes these words the most, the praise was so pleasurable to him. "you're always doing a good job."

he had the pleasure but it wasn't affecting him as it usually was...

"argh! can y-you please c-choke me!?" he grips the hands on his waist tightly, eyes blown wide with pleasure.

you own eyes widen, staring at him in shock. "a-are you sure?"

"AH- Ye, yes p-please!" he stammers out, taking your hands and put them over his face. one hand over his mouth and the other pinching his nose.

you carefully watch his fucked out expression for any sign of discomfort. when you didn't see any, you quickly clasped you hand shut around his mouth.

dokja knew to tap your arm three times when he needed air. you just hoped he wouldn't forget it.

"enjoy, dokja."

you continue to thrust your hip down on his, not minding him chasing his own pleasure as well. he blinks a couple of times, lack of oxygen finally caught up to him.

he gasps out through his muffled cries. he couldn't see properly, vision hazy. he kicks his legs out at the lack of air, and he claws at your wrists.

though, he refuses to tap your arm.

then dokja's eyes roll back, hips coming to a stuttering halt. it seemed holding his breath made everything more intense. you hear the sound of him spurting out come and it leaks through his pants, staining your own clothes.

you gape at him. there's was so much. more than he normally produced. "look at that..."

you remove you hands from his face, he gulps down air greedily, ignoring the way his face burns as you continue to stare at him. "i didn't think you'd like breathplay..."

dokja stares his pants with tears running down his face, quickly looking away in embarrassment.

[[ ki mdok ja lik es bein g chok ed ]]

...

[3smo]

es. ily. congrats on 1k.

can i get uhhh a kim dokja with #20, gender neutral pls 😳

• "just a little harder. please?" (#20)

warning: dom reader. gender neutral. demon dokja? i forgot the word for sex demons 🤕. human reader? ig. nipple play. lactating. some fingering.

514 words.

1k event!

"come on" he drags out, lips nibbling on your ear lobe. he gives you a sly smirk, "let's play around."

demons... are evil by nature. nothing can make them 'soft', or a 'good' demon. in fact, they feed off of those energies.

and kim dokja? well, he was new to this demon seducing a good human, but he could tell you were giving into it and it made him more eager to feast.

he releases a gentle aroma, it filled your senses pleasantly. you had no choice but to nod in agreement.

dokja smiles widely, unzipping your jacket, and pushing it off of you. "do you know a demon's weakness?"

you shake your head as dokja takes your hand and leads it under his shirt. he timidly slides your index finger against his nipples. "it really depends on the demon, but this is my weakness..."

dokja shuts his eyes, feeding off on your arousal. his mouth falls open as you fondle with his chest, he had some meat on him, it wasn't much but enough for you to get a good grip on him.

you stop your movements when you feel liquid drip down your hands. dokja shook in embarrassment, "haa.. d-don't look..."

you push his shirt up, watching in awe as his nipples leak milk, trailing down to his stomach. dokja pants in your ear, jerking forward in surprise when your lips attached themselves to his chest. "h-hey!! you were.. ngh, suppose to just t-touch.."

you bite down on the sensitive bud causing him to wail, you jumped in surprise, pulling away from him but he quickly hugged your head, pushing you back to his chest. "...j-just a little harder.. pl-please?"

you glance up at him from your spot, tongue peaking out to lick the spilled milk from his nipples.

"ahnn," he whimpers, his face red and tears peaking out from his eyelashes. you had to admit this really made you feel powerful. it made you feel superior to him. "this is so embarrassing..."

he covers his face with a small, trembling hand. your fingers slid down into his mini shorts, touching the wet spot in his underwear. your eyes raise back up to him, pulling your face away from his chest.

"you're wet..." dokja nods, picking himself up to remove his shorts. he turns around, setting himself on all fours, his ass up and prepped for you.

"some demons produce slick... it helps the more submissive ones..." you watch in shock as your fingers easily slid in, earning a gurgle groan from dokja, he pushes his hips back on your fingers, turning his head to look at you with hooded eyes. "more, more please.."

"you're so sensitive..." you add a third finger, feeling him clench around you generously. he gasps loudly, back arching and arms giving out as you press onto his prostate. you adjust him so his ass was up on your lap, making it easy for you to slam your fingers in with ease. dokja's thighs tremble, shaking in your lap.

"you wouldn't mind if i add another, would you?"

"fuck! y-yes! yes please.."

...