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seoulmatez · 10 months ago

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— 𝓂𝒾𝓃𝑒, 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝓂𝒾𝓃𝑒 ౨ৎ

okkotsu yuta x f!reader. 2.9k wc. ﾉ nsfw (mdni) ﾉ characters aged 21+ ﾉ step-brother!yuta ﾉ stepcest ﾉ college au ﾉ jealousy ﾉ possessiveness ﾉ yuta is insecure ﾉ marking (hickies & biting)

this is a continuation of my other stepbro!yuta fic, misplaced lust. that offers some background to this fic but this can also be read as a standalone!

a month has passed since you and yuta shared that fateful night in your living room, since you’ve started seeing him as someone other than your step brother—though, you still haven’t quite settled on what to call him. yuta would insist on “boyfriend” but the word feels heavy and sticky in your mouth, like you can’t really get it out any time you try. you suppose you’re still getting acquainted with the idea of yuta as a lover rather than a brother.

all you can say for sure is that things are different.

your standing as simply siblings is the image you keep up in public, much due to your persistence, though, behind closed doors, it’s a different story. gone are the days when yuta kept his urges buried. he touches you when he pleases—stealing the sweetness of your lips in morning kisses, holding you hostage in midday cuddles, exploring each and every curve of your body as you writhe and pant beneath him at night.

it’s taken some getting used to but you’ve fallen into some sort of strange routine with him. the life you’re living is far from ordinary, though, you’re pleased with it.

tuesdays—you have class on campus and, as much as you’ve told him that it isn’t necessary, yuta practically begged you to let him take on the task of taking you to and from your classes. you’re sure he’s parked in the lot across from your building now, but you’ll have to keep him waiting a while longer so that you can exchange contact information with your new project partner.

“just sent you a text,” the boy tucks his phone away in his pocket, “did you get it?”

as if he willed it himself, your phone dings with a message notification. it’s from an unknown number but you infer that the sweet “hi! :)” is from him. you wave your screen at him with a smile and a nod before quickly saving him to your contacts.

“i’ll text you when i get home, yeah?” you look to your partner, eyebrows raised in question.

“sounds good to me.”

“great.” you offer him a wave before setting off to the crowd of cars in search of yuta’s.

it doesn’t take you long to find it, or him for that matter. he’s standing outside the vehicle at the hood, arms crossed and eyebrows pulled together in confusion. the sight leaves you puzzled yourself as you approach him. he usually meets you with a smile. it’s strange to not see the corners of his lips pulling up.

“hey, what’s wrong?” you question. if you were in the privacy of either of your apartments, you’d reach out to smooth out the crease between his brows.

yuta reaches for you, large hands coming to rest on your hips before he pulls you closer. you frown and shake your head in a silent reminder that people are watching—people who shouldn’t see you in such a position. much to yuta’s dismay, you knock his arms away and take a step back. your action seems to upset him further. “who was that guy?”

you fight the urge to roll your eyes at his question. if you thought his investment in your relationships before you hooked up was concerning, then the tabs he keeps on you now border overbearing. you can’t talk to a guy within his line of sight without being questioned about it afterward.

“he’s just a classmate,” you reassure him with a sigh.

your disinterest in the conversation does nothing to ease yuta’s nerves. a piece of him knows that his jealousy may be unwarranted, but, to be fair, you’ve never gone as far as sharing contact information with another guy—and right in front of him, at that. “a classmate that needs your phone number?”

“yes,” you swear you see his frown deepen with your answer, “but only because we’re working on a project together.”

yuta trusts you, he does, but knowing that you’ll be working closely with a guy he’s unfamiliar with leaves a sour taste in his mouth. he’s well aware of how the minds of men work and who’s to say this one won’t make a move on you?

though, as he looks into the depths of your eyes, yuta reminds himself that it’s you. you wouldn’t let things escalate that far, you wouldn’t betray his trust—right?

large hands come up to cradle your face, thumbs brushing over each of your cheekbones. midnight eyes bore into yours as he asks, “you promise?”

your heart jumps in your chest—at the feel of his rough palms on your face or the unexpected question, you’re not sure. the intensity behind his lidded gaze almost makes you forget where you are, that he’s not supposed to be touching you like this here, where anyone can see. you take hold of his wrists, pulling his hands down from your face, opting to hold them between your bodies to keep them hidden.

“i promise,” you tell him, voice low so that only the two of you can hear.

the warmth of your hands and the softness of your voice relieve all the tension that’s built up in yuta since he was met with that unsavory sight. he squeezes your hand, lips pulling up into a soft smile.

he knew he could trust you.

life with yuta is as normal as it can be outside of your interactions with your poor classmate. the boy really hasn’t done anything wrong but he still unknowingly bears the brunt of yuta’s irritation and resentment. a simple text from him informing you that he added content to the document and would appreciate you looking it over earns a grimace from yuta if you take too long replying to him.

so, you suppose you shouldn’t be surprised when your phone vibrates with a notification—no, two notifications from yuta during your library meeting with your acquaintance. you hope it’s not rude to shift your attention to your phone for a moment. two messages one after the next implies urgency.

> where are you?

> you said you’d be back by 6

so much for urgent. you click the button on the side of the device to put your screen to sleep, not bothering to reply. you’re sure you’ll be wrapping things up here soon and the process will go even quicker if you don’t break to text him back. you make a mental reminder to respond to him as soon as you’re done, flipping the phone so the screen is facing down on the table.

you’re barely able to get another paragraph typed out before your phone is buzzing again, not with a notification but with a phone call. despite not being able to see the caller display, you have an idea of who it is.

“i’m sorry,” you apologize to the man across from you, grabbing your phone off the table. “you don’t mind if i take this, do you? i’ll make it quick.”

he waves his hands in a show of nonchalance. “no, no, go ahead.”

you offer him an apologetic smile before stepping out of the room you two reserved to dedicate some time to your project. when you hear the click of the door announce that it’s closed, you press the accept button on the call.

“hello?”

“where are you?” there’s mild panic laced in his voice as he continues. “you didn’t reply to my texts.”

you should have seen this coming. he isn’t always like this—so obsessive over your whereabouts, but you think you have an inkling of what’s got him so on edge and he’s sitting in the room you just left. “yuta, i’m still at the library. we’re almost done.”

hearing your voice is like an anchor for yuta, keeping him grounded from his unwelcome, wandering thoughts. he tried not to worry when the clock hit six and you weren’t walking through the door, briefly thinking that you got caught in traffic or some other minor inconvenience that kept you a few minutes.

though, as more time passed, the hypotheticals turned to something less innocent—ones that centered around you and him and the sorts of things you could get up to in a room with just the two of you. it made yuta’s head and heart hurt in a way he’s never experienced before but the pain is beginning to subside now that he’s heard from you.

he’s tempted to ask about what’s keeping you but for his own sanity, he buries the question, choosing instead to tell you, “i was just checking in.”

“everything’s fine.” you nod despite him not being able to see.

you hate when he gets like this, stressing himself out over nothing, letting nonexistent things eat away at his mind. but, in the same breath, you love being the one to bring him back to earth, the one he finds solace in. maybe that’s why your voice softens with your next words. “i’ll be home soon.”

there’s a shaky sigh of relief on the other line, one you’re almost sure wasn’t meant to be audible.

“good.”

the final straw comes a couple of weeks later when yuta’s outside your door, fishing around his pocket for the key you’d given him when you moved in. though, before he’s able to find it, the door swings open.

he expects to be met with the sight of you in your loungewear—shorts that ride up your thighs and a shirt that leaves a sliver of skin on your tummy exposed—but the person standing before him is the last person he wants to see, especially in your foyer.

it’s your project partner.

yuta’s eyebrow twitches as he looks at the man, silently wondering just what the hell he’s doing inside your apartment. he’s got a comfortable grin on his face that slowly falls as he turns away from you to find yuta standing in the hall. there’s confusion written over his features and if yuta wasn’t so annoyed, he’d laugh—he’s the one who should be confused.

“hey, man,” your classmate greets yuta cautiously before turning to you. “you know this guy?”

the question seems to be enough for you to finally recognize yuta’s presence. you don’t smile and hug him like you usually do when he shows up at your place. no, instead, your eyes widen like he’s the unwelcome one.

yuta’s skin warms with his boiling blood as his dark gaze flits over to meet that of your guest. “i’m her b-“

“brother!” you cut him off. with the look in his eyes, you couldn’t be sure he wasn’t going to say another word that started with the same letter. “he’s my step brother.”

“oh,” the man nods, “nice to meet you.”

yuta musters up as friendly of a smile as he can. if you didn’t know him as well as you do, it would have simply looked like he was caught off guard meeting a new face. and while that’s partially true, you can tell that the smile is forced—that his teeth are really clenched behind his lips and that the sentiment is not shared.

your classmate turns back to you, not taking notice—or, at least, choosing not to acknowledge—the thick awkwardness in the air. “well, i’m heading out. see you in class.”

you give him a wave as he slips out the door past yuta, whose sole attention is now on you.

it doesn’t take a genius to tell what’s on his mind.

“yuta…” your voice usually has a calming effect on the man but it doesn’t seem to work this time around as he slips into your apartment, fingers running through the messy strands of inky hair.

“what was he doing here?” there’s an edge to his tone as the question fills the air—one that’s a mixture of anxiety and possessiveness, something different than what you’ve heard over the past few weeks.

you close the door before facing yuta. the darkness in his eyes from earlier lingers but the anger has dissipated, replaced by uncertainty. the latter is just as chilling.

something tells you that your explanation, no matter how truthful, won’t get through to him—not when he’s so worked up. still, you try to make it clear that nothing was going on between the two of you. you reach out to take his hand in yours so that he stops tugging at his hair. “we were going over our presentation, that’s all.”

the stare he meets you with is heavy, almost intimidating. “you had to bring him home to do that?”

“i didn’t feel like driving to campus so i had him meet me here.” you can see yuta’s jaw clench at your justification. you drop his hand in favor of placing yours on his face. his skin is warm beneath your hands and your fingers graze over the curves of his cheekbones and jaw. he softens under your touch, though the insecurity sticks to his expression. you hope your next words are reassuring. “but nothing happened—i swear.”

there’s an honest glint sparkling in your eyes and a softness to your gaze that convinces yuta that you wouldn’t lie to him—not about this, not about anything. with a deep breath, yuta’s hands come to rest on either side of your waist and he nods—more to himself than anything.

he dips his head down, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. it’s eager and greedy, like if he doesn’t do it now, he won’t ever be able to. his tongue runs over your lips, swirls in a dance with yours as he breathes in your air and scent. it’s dizzying and your head is spinning even when he pulls away.

his nips at your lip, nose pressed against yours. “you’re mine, right?”

you nod, parted lips glistening with yuta’s spit.

“then show me.”

the journey to your room is clumsy, kisses interrupted by clothes being strewn about the hallway. though, when you do finally make it to your bedroom, your back meeting the mattress, yuta wastes no time letting his lips roam all over your body. he sucks and nips at your delicate skin, leaving dark marks of his love on your neck, your collarbone, your chest.

the simple sensation draws a melody of moans from you that reaches yuta’s ears, swelling his heart and his cock. he groans—the erection between his legs is almost painful and he finds relief in grinding the head up and down your folds, letting it bump against your clit. the contact elicits a sharp gasp from you and the sound only feeds yuta’s arousal.

he can’t hold himself back any longer.

sinking into you feels like the closest yuta will ever get to paradise. he fights his eyes from rolling back, stops himself from drooling, as he bottoms out in a practiced motion. he usually gives you a moment to adjust around him but he’s far too worked up to allow you the courtesy this time around, almost immediately setting a tempo with his thrusts.

the sound of skin slapping skin as his hips snap into you accompanied by the squelching of your wetness fills the still, thick air of your bedroom. yuta’s choked groans join them and he lets his head fall to rest at the crook of your neck.

his tongue pokes out to lick at your skin, lips latching on to leave yet another purpling spot behind—a sign of his love, a sign that you're his.

the thought causes yuta to bite down on the side of your neck, not hard enough to break the skin but enough to leave an indent of his teeth. he raises his head to meet your eye, labored breaths tickling your face as he hovers above you. he swallows before pressing his forehead to yours, hips still bucking into you.

“you’re mine,” he breathes out, nails digging into the sheets on either side of you.

you can’t tell whether it’s a question or a statement but you nod the best you can regardless of which it is.

his dark eyes bore into yours, a mixture of passion and possessiveness swimming in his gaze. “say it.”

it takes a moment for you to find your voice and even when you do, your declaration cracks. “i’m yours, yuta.”

“that’s right,” he dips his head down to kiss you, smiling against your lips before pulling away, “all mine.”

yuta’s hand finds its way between your bodies and to your clit, rubbing circles against the sensitive bud and drawing heavenly whimpers from you. he starts to lose the rhythmic pace he set as his climax creeps upon him, each thrust growing more and more erratic. a fire sparks to life in your abdomen with the added sensation and you can feel the heat seeping beneath your skin, penetrating your nerves. every part of you is on fire.

the stimulation is soon too much for you, pushing you over the edge and into the deep end of pleasure. the sharp breath you suck in is followed by shaky moans as you ride out your orgasm. with all the pretty noises you’re making and the way your cunt flutters around him, yuta follows not far behind you.

he pulls out before his seed can spill inside you, the warm white ropes of cum spurting on your belly instead. his own moans mingle with yours as he comes down from his high, chest rising and falling with each of his heavy breaths.

his eyes flit up to yours, hand reaching out to caress the side of your face. you lean into his touch instinctively which makes his lips curl up in a smile. you wouldn’t do this for anyone else, would you?

you really are his.

thanks you for reading! if you enjoyed, please reblog or leave a comment! ᡣ𐭩

#₊˚ପ⊹ signed: jujutsu kaisen #yuta x reader #yuuta x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #yuta smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk drabbles #jujutsu kaisen drabbles #cw stepcest #𐙚 after hours

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starmapz · 6 months ago

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shame on me || chapter one || vessel

gojo satoru x female vessel reader

❝gojo satoru is the strongest sorcerer. when you come along with power to match his own, his responsibility to the world gets the best of him and his first impression is poor to say the least. when he needs your help, by some miracle you're too kind to deny him. or maybe he's just manipulative enough to convince you. either way, you're stuck training his student, a vessel like you. what could possibly go wrong?❞

warnings || 18+ only. contains explicit content. enemies to lovers. extreme angst. graphic descriptions of injury and death. hurt/no comfort. hurt/comfort. fluff. major character death. anxiety. panic attacks. extreme slow burn. eventual smut. p in v. oral (f! and m! receiving). praise. overstimulation. fingering. mating press. slight nanami x reader. will have a happy ending!

additional tags || gojo is a dumbass but very lovable. very very very minor love triangle, will not be a main theme. no competing. takes place after season 2. au where gojo is not sealed and the shibuya incident does not go down the same. nanami is alive. choso is around. no major manga spoilers but will contain themes and ideas touched on later. wc || 6.2k.

edited but not beta-read.

series masterlist || main masterlist || next chapter

The sobs wracking your body were a small window into the pain you felt as the sounds of the sterile room began to fade, replaced by ringing in your ears. The warmth leaving your father’s body as you sobbed over his hospital bed, begging him to cling to life although your pleas were met with silence.

Doctors and nurses began to trickle out of the room, leaving you the space to mourn. A curtain was pulled around the small hospital bed, separating you from the young boy sitting alongside his mother in the bed behind you. You could only hope the dread you felt in that moment as your father’s presence faded, to be replaced only by memories, wasn’t a feeling the young boy would experience at such a young age.

“I miss you, dad.”

The silence following your weak and broken words was louder somehow than the commotion of trying to keep him with you only a few minutes ago. A silence that weighed you down and threatened to drown you with every waking moment.

“I’d give anything to have you back,” you whisper through broken weeps.

Leaning over the bed, you were oblivious to the sudden commotion restarting in the room outside the curtain. The deafening ringing in your ears, the tears blinding you, your world crumbling around you, it was all too much and you almost didn’t notice when your father’s finger twitched beneath you. Blinking away your tears, you slowly sit up, shaking hands staring at his fingers, which grew warmer. Your eyes trail slowly towards the monitor hooked up to your father as it beeps and all you can do is stare in disbelief. How could it even be possible what you were witnessing? He remained still, but warmth flooded his body.

As hope floods your grief-filled body, you become suddenly aware of the noise around you, the nurses and doctors flooding the room behind you in an effort to save the boy’s mother behind you, but she was gone already, as quickly as your father had returned.

Your emotions felt like a physical weight dragging you down as you dared to poke your head through the curtain that cordoned your father off. As the commotion died down around the family behind you, it picked up again where your father was now that his monitor had restarted.

Puzzled, you found yourself unable to do anything but stare at the poor young boy, clinging to his mother and weeping helplessly. What left you puzzled was the strange residue that lingered both in the air and around the woman’s body. It was indescribable, like some sort of smoke, yet it clung to her like a net.

That is cursed energy.

Startled, you flung yourself around to face- no one? Nurses worked tirelessly around your father as they tested and monitored his status, but none of them seemed to be paying you any mind.

I apologize, I did not intend to scare you, the voice, one of a calm and gentle demeanor, spoke one more. Your eyes scanned the room again, but you couldn’t identify the source no matter how hard you tried. You weren’t even certain where the voice had come from.

Holding your head in confusion as it began to pound in pain, you stumbled back to the chair beside your dad’s bedside, groaning as it felt someone was pulling your consciousness from your own body. Opening your eyes in an effort to make a desperate plea for help to one of the nurses, your vision blurred, a white light blinding you before you could so much as think, and you found yourself whisked away from the waking world.

You stood now on a massive wooden ship, creaking wood beneath your feet. Sat atop the bridge of the ship was a large serpent-like dragon with ethereal white scale, silver hair and long, slender horns. Its appearance was almost angelic, with the way its scales shimmered in the dim lighting of the cave that surrounded you. The ship swayed slightly as the creature’s tail twitched, pulling along with it a ghostly humanoid figure that fell back outside the boat. You found your eyes trailing to the edge of the ship, met with a river of apparitions, all human in appearance though they lacked distinctive features. A lowly hum reverberated through the cave from the river as they lapped against the side of the ship as though they were waves, causing a gentle rocking motion of the ship.

Stumbling backwards, your breathing quickens as you attempt to take in the sight. A dream, for sure. It had to be.

“Y/N,” the creature’s voice echoes through the cave, glowing red eyes ripping away the veil of what you had once thought of as an angelic creature.

Your words fail to reach your lips and all you can do is gasp as the creature slinks forward, moving as though the ship is a part of it.

“I do apologize for startling you,” the creature’s voice is gentle, a stark contrast to the red eyes that bore into you, leaving you paralyzed in fear as the gentle breaths of the creature waft over you.

“What are you?” You whisper in disbelief, your eyes flickering between its massive glowing eyes.

It doesn’t move as it responds very simply. “I am a curse,” your furrowed brow tells it to continue in its explanation. “I am a being caused by the negative energy of humans. Very few people know of the existence of us.”

“I don’t understand,” you shake your head, shuffling back to try to put any amount of distance between yourself and the monster.

The serpent straightens its long neck, towering over you menacingly, though it seemed to hold no malice towards you. “It would appear I have laid dormant within you for a few years,” it seems to say more to itself than to you. “When your mother passed during your birth, she requested I look after you.”

“My mother… cursed me?” You ask in disbelief, wide-eyed. Surely this was all just some sort of weird dream after the day you had had.

“I would like to think she didn’t,” to your surprise the creature seems to rumble as though it’s laughing, although it comes out more as a guttural noise, nearly a growl. “You were meant to die in childbirth. She asked me, as her companion for many years, to save you, at the cost of her life. It took a great deal of energy to transfer myself and it would appear I have laid dormant since then.”

Trying to take in all the information, you blink, slowly nodding. “So this isn’t some sort of sick dream, huh?” The dragon doesn’t answer. It knows you’re smart enough to answer your own question. After a short silence, it speaks once again, returning to its place on the bridge as it does so.

“Whether you intended to do so or not, you utilized my powers today.”

You examined the creature’s expression from where you sat below it, its majesty towering tall over you. Did it have the power to bring people back as it had done for you so long ago? Did you somehow call on it to save your dad? Your jaw slacks as a realization hits you and you barely manage to choke out the question that makes your stomach churn.

“That kid’s mother-?” Your voice betrays you, breaking before you can finish your sentence.

“Yes.” The creature doesn’t miss a beat as it responds, its voice unwavering.

A lump forms in your throat as your body begins to feel weak. Not only was this real, but you were now responsible for the death of a little boy’s mother. A weak whimper escapes through your lips as you feel your elbows weaken and you collapse to the floor of the ship. Your skin paling as your breaths grow ragged, you grip at your chest, clawing desperately in search of air, but nothing comes to you.

“I recognize I cannot offer much comfort, but you should not blame yourself for this.”

You can’t do anything but stare at the monster before you, tears trailing down your face as your shaking body betrays the panic coursing through you.

“What the fuck are you?” Your words are a desperate plea, a question you can only hope the dragon understands.

“I am death,” the dragon’s head lowers to meet your gaze with its own. “And you are my vessel.”

– 10 years later –

“Shoot,” you mutter to yourself, scratching at the back of your neck. You were nearly finished with the flower arch that had been ordered by your latest client for their wedding, but you were missing the twine necessary to complete the order. The arch was meant to be picked up tomorrow with the wedding coming up on the weekend, leaving you no other choice than to make your way into town.

Pushing yourself up from the ground, you dust your flower dress off, grab your bag and sunglasses, and make your way out the door in the direction of the outskirts of Tokyo. A walk couldn’t hurt anyway, it had been a bit since you had been in town. Your little cottage was located on the outskirts of Tokyo, hidden away in the trees with only your father knowing where it was located.

It was a lonely life, but it was safer. Safer, away from anyone you could hurt.

Is that a veil?

Your steps falter as you pause upon hearing Miriko’s voice, your eyes scanning the line of trees until you see the veil in question.

You grimace, debating whether it’s worth it to make your way to Tokyo later, but figure you can slip by unnoticed if you simply mask Miriko’s cursed energy, shutting her out. To anyone capable of seeing cursed energy, you knew your energy stood out, Miriko had told you that you were strong, stronger than most with her at your side. In addition to that, you had been shocked to find your eyes had become a dull crimson, replacing the color your eyes had been when you had grown up, but it was easy enough to hide behind the pink-tinted sunglasses you wore everywhere.

Pushing along the path, you shut Miriko out completely, masking your cursed energy. Continuing along the gravel and dirt path, you find yourself kicking at a pebble along the path, your eyes flickering up to the pile of rubble that stood where your neighbor’s house had once been, the veil now dispelled. You didn’t know your neighbors well, but still a pang of sadness pulled at your chest. They had been kind.

To your surprise as you stared at the pile of rubble, a pair of kids no older than sixteen were making their way out of the rubble towards you and the limousine car parked on the other side of the gravel road. They were loudly bickering over something to do with a curse, hopping over the rubble of the house. A girl holding a long weapon with deep green hair pauses as she hops down from a piece of splintered wood.

“Y’alright?” She frowns, grabbing your attention, as well as that of the blonde-haired boy beside her.

“Yeah, um,” you hum thoughtfully, a shiver running down your spine as you suddenly feel like you’re being watched. “The couple that lives here, are they alright?”

The girl nods slowly. “There was only one person here. Our friend took ‘em to the hospital.”

“Right, um, thank you!” You say in an effort to slip away unnoticed as the growing unease within you begins to itch uncomfortably within you. Turning to leave, you lock eyes suddenly with a white-haired man leaning against the limo behind you that you hadn’t noticed before. He’s smirking, but you’re unable to read his expression otherwise, his eyes covered by a black blindfold. You feel relief wash over you as you realize he can’t see you or more specifically your eyes as you were certain you would have accidentally locked eyes with him through the edge of your glasses. Your shoulders relax as you begin to make your way again to Tokyo.

“Why don’t we give you a ride?” His voice sounds behind you and you turn back to him, shooting you a smile he can’t see.

“That’s kind, but I’m good. Thank you,” you tell him, bowing your head and turning back towards the city, picking up the pace as your unease began to return, despite the offer sounding kind. Except-

You let out a sharp gasp as you turn around and are met with the sight of the tall man facing you, mere inches in front of you. Your heart falters and you jump back, blinking in disbelief at him. Could he see you after all?

“I insist.” His voice held a much darker and firmer tone despite his smirk.

“I’d rather not get into a car with a man I don’t know,” you stand your ground despite the voice within you begging you to get out of there.

“I’d get in the car if I were you,” his voice is lower yet as he crosses his arms over his broad chest, his muscles pulling the fabric of his black jacket taught. His smile doesn’t waver as he silently awaits your response. You straighten, about to stand your ground but before you have the chance to argue with him, he brings a hand up to pull one side of his blindfold down. His eyes are a brilliant and bright blue. They’re so bright, you almost wonder if they’re glowing, a horrible jolt of fear running straight up your spine, making the hair on the back of your neck stand on end.

Even with your cursed energy blocked, you recognized immediately that his eyes were like yours. He could see after all. He had seen your crimson eyes. Your lips pressed into a thin line, you slowly nod and let him corral you into the back of the limousine. Closing the door behind you, you watched from within the car as the white-haired man spoke to the two boys with a beaming grin.

“Ijichi, the school please,” he calls as he hops into the car, pressing a button on the console that separates the seats you both sat in, facing one another, from the seats the two boys and the driver were in.

“So,” he begins, leaning back with arms crossed behind his head in a deceptively relaxed manner. “A curse-user with no cursed energy? Seems a bit unheard of, no?” The playful lilt to his tone was unnerving and grated. Your jaw clenches and your eyes scan your surroundings as you debate whether it’s worth it to simply throw yourself out of the moving vehicle.

Staying silent, you steel yourself as you meet his gaze, although you couldn’t see his eyes, you knew very well that he could see you now.

“More the silent type, hmm?” He hums playfully, leaning forward until his face is barely a foot from you. Your breath hitches in your throat at his close proximity to you and he smirks as your control wavers, your cursed energy slipping through the cracks. “That’s what I thought,” he chuckles lowly, leaning back again. You swallow hard at the menacing cadence his voice held despite his simple smirk.

Get out of here.

You grimace at Miriko’s words, your eyes scanning your surroundings once more. The stranger chuckles as he watches you scan your surroundings. Your anxiety rises as your cover cracks, your cursed energy growing more and more apparent. As your composure cracks, the white-haired man across from you pulls his blindfold down to lay around his neck. You swallow hard as your gaze locks on to his.

He is the user of the six eyes technique. A member of the Gojo clan. You’re in danger.

Her words in your mind did you no favors as you take a breath to steady yourself and keep your composure. Regardless of how strong your cursed energy was, your abilities came at a great cost and you couldn’t afford to get into a fight with someone that even Miriko considered a danger.

“Listen Gojo-”

“So you do know who I am?” He interrupts with a smirk, his blue eyes shining as though he’s proud to know that you know him, despite the fact that in truth you were lying. You nod slowly before he continues, leaning forward. His electrifying blue eyes are close enough to you that you can feel his breath warm on your cheeks. “In that case, let’s do this the easy way.”

Your eyes follow his actions as he lifts a hand, his fingers pulling your sunglasses down off the bridge of your nose. You stand your ground, your jaw clenching visibly. Gojo’s fingers brush your temple as he pulls your glasses away, moving them to hang off the collar of his black jacket in one swift movement.

“So let’s go over this, huh?” He leans back, crossing his arms over his chest. “A low cursed energy output, and yet you’ve got red eyes that you’re hiding. Now what kind of technique could you possibly have?” His blue eyes narrow, his smirk widening. “But that’s not the case at all, is it?” His voice is dangerously low, coming out as a near-purr. He didn’t seem angry, but rather curious. He was teasing you, playing with his food.

You stay silent, not daring to answer. Let him play with his food, you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of the anxiety bubbling in your stomach, nor lashing out at him and giving in to his questions.

“So,” he leans forward with a grin. Your brow twitches at the close proximity as you feel his minty breath on your face, earning a satisfied hum between his words. “Care to tell me ‘bout yourself?”

Do not speak.

You had no plans to admit anything to him, your eyes flickering down to your glasses hanging off his collar, wishing he hadn’t taken them from you. Though they were fairly translucent, they had felt like a line of defense against his questioning that you now lacked.

Gojo’s eyes narrow when you don’t answer, clearly not satisfied that you weren’t cooperating with him. “Let’s look at your options, shall we?” His hand rises close to your face and your eyes flicker towards the digit he has raised. “One, you tell me everything. Two, I drag every last detail out of you. Or three,” he pauses, his smirk disappearing. “I kill you under the guise of an uncooperative curse-user.”

Your mouth opens to try to defend yourself, but your words die in your throat. You swallow the lump that formed in your throat, trying desperately to think of some sort of secret fourth option. When nothing comes to mind and you remain silent, Gojo sighs and leans back with a groan.

“You curse users are never any fun,” he grumbles. To your surprise, he seems oddly bored. Was this all a game to him? Something he couldn’t lose? You grit your teeth, jaw clenching in response to his childish reaction. Who the hell did he think he was?

If he tries to fight, I’ll take over. Do not let him scare you. The Gojo clan has a good reputation, he shouldn’t be unreasonable.

Miriko’s words in your head were the closest thing you had to hope as you watched Gojo lock eyes with the driver. It wasn’t long before the car pulled over and you both stood on the side of a road in the outer edge of Tokyo, the side opposite of where your cabin resided.

“Let’s try this again, shall we?” The eerie grin spread across his face. “Or did you want to do this the hard way?”

You take a step back from him. “I’m not here to fight you.” You’re thankful you’re able to keep your voice steady as you speak, but you aren’t sure how long your resilience will last.

“If that’s the case, then let’s start with names. Mine’s Gojo Satoru, but you knew that already,” his sly tone doesn’t do much to ease the tension in that air that could be cut with a knife.

“I’m y/n,” you introduce yourself uncertainly, eyeing the way he holds himself with a sort of nonchalant confidence. “And I’d like my sunglasses back,” you tell him, but he clicks his tongue at your words.

“These?” He asks, unhooking them from his collar to hold them an inch in the air above his hand. Your gaze narrows at the display.

He has the Limitless technique.

The what? You dare to ask Miriko, as though you knew anything about cursed techniques.

It doesn’t matter. Regardless, we won’t be able to do anything to him even if we were to fight. He is our natural counter.

Your eyes had drifted off to the side as you listened to Miriko, returning to face Gojo as you examined the way he curiously eyed you.

“Spacing out at a time like this?” He cocks his head to the side, his frustrating smirk not leaving his lips. “Unless you were talking to someone?” His voice is an octave deeper, a knowing look in his glowing blue eyes.

Your resolve didn’t waver and for that you were grateful. “Talking to who?” You countered, pushing down the growing feeling of anxiety.

“If you don't care to tell me, I’m sure the curse you were talking to will.”

You don’t make a move, standing stiff as a board. Surely he wouldn’t attack you, would he?

You regret blinking, as only a moment later he’s no longer in front of you. Miriko’s instincts kick in, turning and holding your arms up to block the fist full of cursed energy meant to hit you. Gojo’s eyes widen at the sight of your eyes, glowing a deep and eerie red, your hair now silver as your forearms are strengthened with cursed energy nearly as immense as his own. His punch still hits you hard enough to send you flying back into a tree, fracturing wood puncturing your back as you collide with the trunk.

“So she was talking to someone,” he laughs, clearly amused. From where you watched from within your own body, you could only scoff, Miriko’s words of the Gojo family being reasonable enough to make you roll your eyes. “So if she’s a vessel, who does that make you?”

Miriko pushes herself to her feet, rolling her shoulders as she effortlessly heals your wounds. “Who I am will mean nothing to you,” she calmly explains, red eyes burning into Gojo’s. He raises an eyebrow in response. “However I will give you the answers you seek if you cut a deal with me.”

“A deal? You talkin’ a vow or a handshake, Curse?”

“A deal, as you humans do. I do not wish to enter any kind of binding vow with the likes of you, Six Eyes.”

“Ouch, is that all I am to you?” He feigns hurt at the name Miriko had given him, but she doesn’t react. He sighs, clearly no longer amused with the situation. “Alright, I’ll bite.”

“You will leave us alone. You will not speak of us. You will not mention our existence, and I will give you five minutes of our time.”

Gojo crosses his arms, smirking slyly. “That’s it? What kind of curse wants to be left alone?”

Miriko is unphased by his question, standing her ground. “A curse that has been around for far too long.”

If you weren’t paying attention, you may not have noticed the way his smile falters for a split second, doubt flashing in his eyes, but it’s gone before you can think too hard about it.

“Deal,” he agrees, taking a step forward and outstretching his hand. Miriko takes his hand, shaking it. She glances momentarily down at his hand, his Limitless ability off. For a split second, she thinks about using her technique, but the trouble it would cause you both dissuades her. Regardless, it was an awfully reckless move for a sorcerer as strong as his presence alone felt to Miriko. She couldn’t help but wonder what his reasoning behind it was.

“Ask your questions, Six Eyes.”

“What’s your name?” He leans back against a nearby tree, putting a foot up against the tree’s trunk.

“Miriko,” she responds, giving him no more than exactly what he was asking.

“Miriko, nice to meet ya,” his grin returns. “What’s your technique?”

“Death,” she responds, her lips pressed into a thin line. Gojo’s brow twitches as if in disbelief and he straightens himself.

“Awfully strong technique, no?” He questions, his eyes now narrowed and his stupid grin wiped from his lips. It was a somewhat welcome sight over the frustratingly cocky smirk he so loved to display.

“Perhaps,” Miriko agrees. “No more than yours, Six Eyes.”

“Right,” he hums, narrowed eyes observing your features, however Miriko’s expression is unchanging. “Why have I never heard of a curse with your technique?”

“You have,” Miriko says confidently, observing the way a muscle in Gojo’s jaw works and eventually clenches. “Your kind know me by a different name.”

“Care to enlighten me?” He rebuttals quickly, blue eyes boring into your features as he searches for the answer. Miriko’s short and concise responses weren’t everything he had hoped for when he had agreed to her deal, but he had chosen to make a deal with the devil and would live with the consequences.

Miriko took a moment to consider her answer, the wind blowing through your now-silver locks as she eyed the sorcerer in front of her. “Your kind know me as the Grim Reaper.”

“Ha?” Gojo huffs questioningly, grinning at the response. “And here I thought that was just a story.”

“All stories come from somewhere originally, Six Eyes.” A silence falls between the sorcerer and the curse, sizing one another up through the tension that thickened the air between them, but Miriko had no intention of fighting a sorcerer capable of using the Limitless technique. She knew her limits, and she knew you were no fighter regardless. “Your five minutes are up,” she informs him, the glow of your eyes fading as your hair returned to its usual hue.

Gojo’s brow twitched at the sight of your return but as promised, he let out a deep sigh and pulled out his phone to call a cab for you.

–

Drops of water cascaded over the leaves of the plants you so carefully nurtured for your wedding flower business, each one thriving in the environment you had crafted on the outer edges of Tokyo.

The sense of relaxation and ease that the action of watering your plants brought was one that had become very welcome after the encounter you’d had with Gojo Satoru eight months ago. That encounter had changed much of the way you lived. You had moved to a more remote location, a property with a larger yard, a tall fence, and a big and well-trained dog.

Taro, your Rottweiler, you had trained with the express purpose of warning you about Gojo. You had left your sunglasses mostly untouched after the day of the encounter until you’d had the chance to train your new dog to search for him.

Aside from being a great guard dog, you were thankful for his company as well. You didn’t often visit your father due to the danger of your curse, and while Miriko was generally agreeable, you didn’t make a habit of trying to make friends out of fear. Maybe it was cowardly, but you knew Miriko preferred such a life.

Taro didn’t bark. He was a very quiet dog, so when he did begin barking, you knew exactly why. As if on queue, Miriko spoke in your mind to warn you of a cursed energy user nearby. Your gaze followed Taro to the front gate, where you didn’t yet see any figures. He wouldn’t dare after your encounter all those months ago, would he?

Telling Taro to sit, he did so as you opened the gate though his growls never ceased. The sight before you was one to behold. The white-haired sorcerer’s bloodied figure carried the corpse of a face all-too familiar to you, though a face you hadn’t heard tales of for a long time. Long, raven hued hair cascaded from the figure’s head, draping past Gojo’s arms. Blue eyes bored into yours, sending a chill down your spine at the eerie expression he displayed.

“I thought I told you to leave me alone,” your voice was small, but you were grateful you remained firm in your words.

Gojo’s mouth opens, but the words seem to die in his throat. The man you were staring at was not the same man you had met eight months ago and even if for only a split second, you feel a pang of sympathy. Taro’s growls and the growing feeling of anger from Miriko within you swayed your feelings back to one of resentment as he fails to respond.

Before prodding him again, your eyes flicker down to the man in his arms. Quietly observing the figure of none other Geto Suguru, whom you knew to be responsible for more than one incident, including one in Shibuya only a couple of nights ago, hung limp in his arms. His head was split open in such a manner that caused a shiver to crawl up your spine.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, hostility dripping from your voice like water slipping off a flower’s leaves. Gojo’s face is hidden by his hair as he stares down at the man in his arms, his expression hidden.

“I wouldn’t be here if I had anywhere else I could go,” his voice is strangely hoarse, giving you pause as your knuckles turn white as your grip on the gate increases. In another moment of weakness, your pang of sympathy returns, the strange vulnerability he showed tugging at your heartstrings, but Miriko dissuades the thought quickly.

Do not humor him, he holds a very dangerous curse-user. Do not trust him.

Miriko’s reminder causes your eyes to flicker back down to Geto Suguru and your brow furrows. “Get off my property,” you hiss, steeling yourself finally as the reality of the situation sinks in.

“I know we made an agreement, but-” his voice falters as he searches for words. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you go to close the gate but his foot kicks out in time to keep it open. “Wait, please,” he begs, his shoulders slumping in defeat as he was left with no other option but to physically beg something of you. To think this man had played with you like a toy and now he was here asking something of you, it made you as sick as he looked and likely also felt.

Pushing harder against his foot, your eyes locked with one another and you pause. The usual look of mischief and amusement was gone from his eyes, replaced with a very genuine vulnerability, mixed with anger, and even desperation. With a sigh, you finally opened your gate to him.

You could feel displeasure spreading through your body, clearly Miriko’s own emotion being mixed in with yours, and Taro continued growling in small fits. You had trained him to do so, you couldn’t blame him really.

“Are you able to reverse your cursed technique?” Gojo asks, his lips downturned into a frown as he stood uncomfortably within your garden.

“No,” you lie, taking one look at the man in his arms and resolving to being unwilling to do what he was asking.

His blue eyes narrow for a moment, examining yours, before he sighs. “Right,” he hums, swallowing heavily. “But you’re-” he pauses, “Miriko’s the Grim Reaper right, can you at least let him rest?”

Blinking in disbelief, you let out a bitter laugh. “Peace? Gojo he-” you shake your head, “he killed thousands of people.” Your jaw hangs open in disbelief at the request.

“He didn’t-” Gojo stammers over his words as he watches your eyes widen in confusion. “It wasn’t-” he sighs finally, his head hanging. “I know.”

Again you find yourself with your brow knit tightly together as you eye Gojo cautiously. If you agreed, you would be left extremely vulnerable. Very rarely did Miriko enact on her role as a reaper anymore, there were so many curses these days that her mercy was rarely required, but the one moment where you had used her ability to lead a soul to the afterlife, it had left you in an extremely vulnerable state.

Was Gojo someone you could trust with such a thing? Surely not, and yet… Your mind flashed back to when Miriko had noticed he had shaken your hand with no barrier between you. Was that some sort of act of goodwill to ensure he’d have an opportunity like this now? Was he using you? You had no way to be sure.

The only reassurance you had was the genuine look of vulnerability that shone in his azure eyes.

“Is that something you can do?” You sigh, staring off to the side as you wait for Miriko to respond. Holding out your palm, you stare at the mouth full of pointed teeth that appears.

“Yes,” she responds eloquently, though her tone is less than amicable. She knew you had asked aloud to force her into a corner to agree, as she otherwise would have declined.

“Please,” Gojo’s voice is serious and small, uncharacteristically so.

You allow Gojo to set Geto Suguru, who you can only imagine was at one time a friend, on the ground before him as you kneel down opposite Gojo. You shoot him a cautionary glance before setting your hand on Geto’s robed chest.

Gritting your teeth, you shut your eyes as a familiar pain surges through your mind. Being dragged into Miriko’s domain within you held a familiar sight. The dragon’s scales shone in the dimly lit cave as the familiar lapping of souls against the wooden ship broke the silence of the air. Red eyes shone in acknowledgement of your arrival, before turning to face your visitor.

To your surprise, the soul of Geto Suguru didn’t look as you had expected. He looked younger, his hair up in a bun with only a couple of stray strands of hair falling down over his calm features. He had a much thinner build than Gojo, and tired eyes. He looked… kind. Uneasily, you shared a glance with him. He didn’t seem confused, and he was unable to speak in such a state, but still he shot you a smile.

All you could do was blink and watch as Miriko’s tail ushered him towards her, the ship lurching forward. You managed to catch your balance before you could fall over from the sudden movement, only able to watch as the ship approached a light from a hole in the usually dimly lit cave. Quietly standing at the rear of the boat, you observed as Miriko ushered his spirit towards the light as the ship lurched to a halt. The light from above shone for a moment, forcing you to shut your eyes. Blinking them open once again, you were able to see little more than the familiar shape of a ghostly spirit, not the one you had seen before. It was the residuals of Geto Suguru, which collapsed into the river beneath you.

Bright red eyes shone as the serpent turned to face you once again. Locking eyes with her was something you didn’t often do, however her calming and familiar presence wasn’t unwelcome. Despite her title of a curse, you had never considered her as such. Life was lonely, perhaps, but her company made it bearable.

Her silver mane sways at the hint of a breeze as her long muzzle towers over you for a moment. She takes pause before her breath cascades over your figure and you’re blinking as you take in the sun filtering through the leaves.

Removing your hand from Geto Suguru’s body, you lean back and blink to try to reorient yourself within your surroundings. Finally beginning to come to, your gaze rests on Gojo before you, staring at you intently. His blue eyes are filled with questions that you have no intention of responding to.

“It’s done,” you tell him, pushing yourself to your feet as you brush your knees and dress off.

Gojo took a moment to stare at Geto’s remains. You could see from the sadness in his eyes that he had a connection to the man, but you didn’t intend on questioning him and extending this encounter with the Limitless user any longer than you needed to.

The research you had put time into after your initial encounter with the sorcerer had told you all that you needed to know about him. That he was the strongest. The last thing you needed was him showing up at your door any more than he already had.

Slowly, Gojo picks up the body once more and makes his way to your gate.

“No coming back,” you tell him, your voice firm although you had some amount of sympathy for him after the vulnerability he had shown you.

He turns back to you for only a moment, his blue eyes searching yours from over his shoulder.

“Thank you.”

“Goodbye, Gojo Satoru.”

series masterlist || main masterlist || next chapter

a/n || hello!! this is the first time i've ever posted a fic despite writing dozens of them. i've actually got the first several chapters written but need to do some heavy editing but at the very least you can expect the early chapters relatively quickly. i hope you like it and appreciate any support ♡ also i feel it's worth mentioning because i think it's very funny - i began writing this fic before i read the manga so the fact that reader is similar to another particular character is a complete coincidence lmao. not really sure how that happened but it is a fun little fact.

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samthecookielord · 1 year ago

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silly doodles while i wait for the homies to be available to play more unwound future (insert obligatory "im still at chapter 2" note)

#cookie lords art #professor layton series #luke triton #hershel layton #future luke #professor layton and the unwound future #clive dove #puzzles gone wrong au #not really but it is important

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ravenrothstr · 10 months ago

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I SHOULDN'T HAVE MET MY IDOL

summary. y/n chasing her dreams of working as a graphic designer at SM to meet Jaehyun, just to find out expectations are different than reality

genre. idol! au, fluff

words count. 12.0k

disclaimer. the story is fully fictional. other names mentioned are just for the story and pure imagination, with no bad intentions

tags. @dulyrana

-- ★🎸🎧⋆｡ °⋆ --

You have been living in Seoul for almost five years now. Well, it wasn't the best thing that ever happened in your life but when you opened the email today, every bad day just flushed down the toilet in your brain.

Congratulations! I am writing to formally offer you the job for the trainee program on Graphic Designing and Creative Media for SM Entertainment Co. We strongly believe that your skills and expertise will help our company to reach great heights...

You read it twice, thrice, quadruple, quintuple and millions of times. It is just too good to be true. Tears stung your eyes like shards of glass, slowly recalling the hardships you had gone through throughout the journey.

It was cold when you finally left to finish your work on a Friday night during her first job in Seoul as an intern at a small firm. You looked at the phone to check the temperature immediately regretting how thin she dressed that day.

-11

The cold wash over your skin repeatedly as you freeze in front of the company. You threw your arms around yourself to hug, hoping to feel warmer. Just then, you heard footsteps approaching out of the company door in which you immediately recognised the person. It was your supervisor and head boss. You quickly gave them a warm smile and a gentle bow, although you were unfamiliar with that culture.

"Hello", you greeted. The head boss just grinned at you as he replied in Korean which made you struggle to understand but lucky enough to have your supervisor translating it for him.

"He's asking if you wanna join for a drink"

"Oh sorry, I can't drink"

"Ah it's okay, I'll let him know", just then the supervisor translated it to the head boss but a different meaning.

"Sir, she's not going. She's not like us", leaving a remark.

You definitely understood that, you managed to learn some Korean before she came here. The head boss gave you a side eye, looking down at you as he scoffs and heads off with the supervisor. You stared blankly towards their direction, hearing the supervisor continue to speak to the head boss. With the knowledge of the Korean language you knew, you mixed the puzzle of words to understand why the supervisor was complaining about you.

The supervisor had the right to complain, though, you thought.

You messed up big time that day. You had the design wrong again this time because you misunderstood the client during the meeting. It was hard for you to catch what they were talking about, every word seemed too fast for you and no one bothered to help or clear it out. By the time, the supervisor presented the new design, they were too furious. You had to remake the design repeatedly for the client until they were satisfied. They suffered a lot that day.

The emotions caught you as she looked down at the ground that is now turning into white snow. You dragged your feet to the studio she lived in, making your way to the bed. Thinking to yourself.

Have I made the right choice to come here?

This thought came up again when you was working as an assistant graphic designer at another firm when you witnessed the design that you spent sleepless nights on it to not be selected for the presentation. Your coworker, who had the simplest design, smiled widely when they presented hers in front of the client.

The unfairness killed your confidence as you grew smaller and smaller in the community. Sinking in the pile of majorities. With you timid attitude, it makes it easier to bully her at work. You did most of the editing, the hard ones, and the complicated ones and you never complained. Because deep down, you knew this work was what put the food on the table.

You closes the lights at the desk, making your way out of the office. You were again the last person to leave the office. Lifting up your face, you saw the snow falling to the ground. Significating another year's end. You took out the earphones you plucked them into your phone and brought it to your ear. Looking at your recent playlist, you picked a song for your walk back home.

Timeless - NCT U

You start walking back home as the song starts, it reminds you why you came here in the first place. It was no surprise to anyone that you would be moving to Korea since you were very influenced by the Korean industry ever since you were in high school. You loved everything about it.

Food. Music. Drama. Outfits and of course.

Idols.

Throughout the years, you stan a lot of groups but never beats NCT. It was everything to you. Your happiness, comfort, sadness. You named it. Nothing cures you more than them, same goes for other fans out there, you feel connected with them. Despite of being very immersed in fangirling, you is too just an average girl out there living her life.

“You really think I can have my internship in Seoul?”, you questioned your friend sitting in front of you.

"Of course, a lot of our seniors did it. You can apply for that program since you like kpop so much, you should go"

You shrugged your shoulders, even if you wanted to your confidence wasn't thick enough for you to crush all the obstacles you imagined and your friend was quick to notice that.

"Come on, y/n. You'll have fun there, and who knows you might meet Jaehyun. He's your bias right?", you smirked at her comment.

"He's everyone's bias. Besides that's too impossible to happen. You know fans and idols are separated by reality"

"And you know fans are dreamers, and you can't go into reality without waking up"

You didn't say anything. It was true that meeting up and being close to your bias is very delusional but as a fan who dreams for it to become true, you hold onto something called hope.

This memory was definitely a core reason for your hope to work somewhere near Jaehyun. The greatest thing about it is that you really loves your job and you love kpops. Therefore, you always find yourself pushing through the hardships of living there alone.

You stretched your neck from side to side as you relieved your tiredness from your work. It has been almost three months since you worked at SM as a trainee, and you like working there. Most of your colleagues treated you nicely, not to mention the bossy seniors but overall it was alright. However, it does dishearten the fact you haven't met any idol yet. You were starting to believe that trainees don't get any opportunities to meet any idols. Just then, you heard someone tap your shoulder softly. It was no surprise to you this time when you saw a familiar figure standing behind you. Your face immediately lifted up a smile.

It was your trainee partner, Beom Seok.

"Meet me at the pantry", he mouthed. You nodded as you headed to the pantry after him.

"Are you still working on the mood board for the new group debut concept?", Beom Seok asked leaning his back on the countertop and taking a sip of his coffee.

"Yeah, you know how fussy Daeun can be", rolling your eyes back as you stir your coffee next to Beom Seok.

He smiled.

"It's amazing, isn't it? You get involved in concept ideas for the new debut as if they are letting us decide what's the new trend-"

"Or our supervisor is just not that up to date with the latest edit trend of Photoshop so she's asking her little minions to explore it for her"

"Well, if you see it in that light. I can't stop you from being a pessimist, just like how you can't stop me from looking at how great you are"

You chuckled, Beom Seok is definitely a 'words of affirmation person' and he has a lot to share with you. The days go on as you continue editing your work, reconsulting it and repeating. She looked around the office to see who was still available. She felt relief when she saw Daeun and Beom Seok at their table. It was really a hectic week for them.

They decided to call it a day not long after, Daeun offered them to have dinner together saying she had to get rid of some nervousness for a crucial presentation but Beom Seok politely declined as he headed home straight away. Although you couldn't drink, you figured it wouldn't hurt to accompany Daeun. Besides, it was going to be at her apartment so you didn't have to send anyone home or worry about how to get back.

Your eyes widen when you enter Daeun's apartment. It was so white-coded, with the minimalist interior it makes the place warmer. Daeun opened her coat and tossed her keys at the table. Your eyes were scanning the room when you caught on something to your liking.

Regular-Irregular

"Unnie, I didn't know you liked NCT 127"

"Oh that?," Daeun responded while setting up the table.

"I was involved in their comebacks a few times before. Also, for the upcoming next year", she continues. "Tomorrow's presentation is about their comeback. It might be a bit tense even if they approved the concept",

You could only nod to her statement, not ignoring the jealousy you felt inside. In fact, you did come here with the hope of getting close to Jaehyun. Daeun showed you the ring book about their concept as your eyes read the title.

2 Baddies.

Daeun continued to show and explain to you about the concept, with the thought of her practising for tomorrow. You were all ears for it. With the cars and race suits, they're definitely gonna look amazing. As time passed by, Daeun took a sip from the glass. It was the fifth bottle of soju. Your eyes pulled closed at separate times as they fought to stay awake, the sleepiness was getting into you.

You squeezed your eyes shut due to the tiredness. The next thing you knew you were witnessing the sunlight rays through the sliding door across Daeun's living room. Your body shoots upright in the chair as your mind tries to deny the reality the sun is up.

"Daeun, you have to wake up or we will be late for work", you aggressively shake Daeun, hoping you shake her off from the drunkness.

But it was no use, she was still completely wasted from last night.

"Unnie you have a presentation today, get yourself together!"

Daeun begins to groan as she tosses and turns her body around. She was clearly not ready to go to work. You grumble in frustration.

"Daeun, I'll get going first. I am so sorry", you apologise. You quickly made your way out of Daeun's apartment and you headed to your house at the speed of light. Luckily, your apartment wasn't that far from Daeun's.

The clock on the wall of your office was showing you 15 minutes late. Your heart started pumping with the calves burning, breath forming clouds in the air from your face. Your feet fly over stones and leaves. The clock on the wall of your office was showing you 30 minutes late. when you entered. You tried your best to look calm in front of the others as you made yourself comfortable at your desk.

"Are you okay?", Beom Seok mouthed from his desk, next to you.

You just gave him a small nod and started to work as usual.

Daeun was nowhere to be found when they began to search her for the presentation. The voice of your senior teammate's roses as they called decline again. The clock struck near to 2pm, and the team got more and more restless of Daeun missing in action. You and Beom Seok kept your head low, trying your best not to get involve in this matter.

You secretly prayed for Daeun's appearance. You would be in great trouble if they knew you were with her last night. Just then, you heard one of your senior teammates answered a call.

"Daeun, where the fuck are you?!"

Your shoulders pulled back to the chair, letting out a long relief when you thought Daeun coming to the office anytime soon.

"What do you mean you're not coming? Did you drink last night?!", the senior scolded.

You could the shivers under your skin, making you turning into white. Daeun has always been a pain in the ass to the team but you didn't expect her to bail out on work last minute just like this. You tried your best to ignore the conversation and remind yourself it wasn't your fault for Daeun's action but you couldn't help when you heard the senior mentioning your name.

"You passing y/n to present because she revised the presentation with you?", the senior turned her head towards your direction.

Blood drains from your skin, and your entire body becomes impossibly still. There was no way they were letting you do the presentation just because your drunk supervisor said so.

Just before you can protest, you find yourself standing in front of the door meeting room with your other seniors rehearsing the presentation with them. They make sure to tell you all the ethics of the meeting and also remind you that the meeting will be recorded for their content.

"And also, there will be the members in the room so don't go throw yourself at them. Remember you are the concept creator and you must stay professional"

The comment made you stand rigid with terror, too overwhelmed to move. You're not ready for this, not in this way. But if you told your seniors now you couldn't do it, you felt like you were passing the burden instead of lifting it up for them. It's indeed your job and you are here for that.

You entered the room with your seniors and other teams. You assume they were all working together too for this comeback. The more you scan the room, the more nervous you get. NCT was definitely there at the end of the room with all cameras directing to them. What's happening was so surreal to you but you kept yourself composed as you focused on the meeting.

The presentation went well for you, although most of the time you were just filling it with compliments on how the members would look great with the concept because you had no idea what the presentation's content was. As soon as the director gave the cut queue, everyone started bowing at each other. The sight of NCT approaching you caught your eye and you immediately went into panic mode, making sure of a good impression.

You gave a smile and quick bow as soon you made eye contact with Jaehyun, the first member approached you. Feeling the butterflies in your stomach and your heart fluttering. Luckily he replied with the same smile before he spoke.

"Are you new here?"

"Yeah, but I'm just here to give the presentation on behalf of Daeun sunbaenim"

"Ah I see, I wonder too where was she"

He knew Daeun?, you scoff at the thought in your head as Johnny gets in your view.

"Well, hope to see you around. It was nice meeting you"

You again smiled uncontrollably at those words as you brought it to the dinner table with Beom Seok.

"I STILL CAN'T BELIEVE I NOT ONLY SAW THEM IN FRONT OF ME! THEY WERE CONVERSING WITH ME!", you said excitedly at Beom Seok. He only continued to grill the meat for you, just before you could continue fangirling Beom Seok raised his voice at the owner of the restaurant.

이모, 소주 주세요

"One bottle of soju, please". You took a hint he might be having a hard time at work today.

"Feel like drinking today? Should I invite Daeun?" you try to lift up the mood.

"No, it's okay. Just wanna have a drink with you"

"Beom Seok, let's get you home. You are really drunk now", tapping gently at his shoulder who's now putting his face down at the dinner table with a hand on the soju glass.

“You’re being… ridicu-lush… ’m not that drunk…”

You rolled your eyes at the comment. Beom Seok was totally wasted too at the other end of the table. And here you are, struggling with how to get him home after paying for the meal.

"Beom Seok, we need to get you home now", you said, trying your best to lift him up. Just as you made it to the door with Beom Seok, you caught into a familiar person covered in long black coat.

Oh my god

"Oh, it's you again", said Jaehyun.

"Hi-"

"This is really bad timing actually", you tried to laugh off the embarrassment.

"Are you okay? Do you need help?"

"Actually yes, he's quite heavy"

Is it really Jeong Jaehyun helping me?

He took Beom Seok's arm from you and continued to carry him.

"So do you know where he lives?"

"I- I don't actually too", Jaehyun laughed, clearly you guys weren't that close yet. Nor friends with benefits.

"We can take him to my apartment first, then we can search for his address"

"WHAT?! I don't think we are allowed to do that. Besides, if you know me, I should be the last per-"

"You're a fan, aren't you?"

The question caught you off guard, you could only stare blankly at him before Beom Seok's sudden nausea hit you back to reality. Seems like bringing him to Jaehyun's apartment was a good option.

You tried a few times to unlock Beom Seok's phone, while Jaehyun went out of the room to take off his coat. It took longer than you expected to unlock his phone. Apparently, the fingerprint or face ID wasn't working and now you had to figure out the passcode.

"Hurry up what's your passcode", you clench your hands in frustration, wanting to throw the phone away.

You closed your eyes, letting you a long sigh. This was one of the reasons you hate the idea of drinking. It brings you back to your childhood.

The image of your alcoholic father drunk on the sofa flashes before your eyes when you peck through the door of your room. Again today, he came in with another woman wrapped around his arms.

"Mom, are you done at the restaurant?". you said as soon as your mom picked up the call.

"I'm sorry dear, we're almost done. We're just closing, I'll be back soon I promise"

She said that every time.

And every time you called, you hoped for her to enter the house to witness this messy affair herself. Little did you know, the day your mom found out about the affair was the last day you ever saw your mother. If you knew she couldn't handle the news, you would have brought the affairs to grave. She must been having a tough time with her life.

"Hey, are you okay?", Jaehyun gently placed his palm on your shoulder, bringing you back to reality.

"Yeah, I'm just really tired"

"That's okay. You really should spend the night here-"

"NO", you quickly protest.

"I'm sorry, we should leave. I think his wallet is here somewhere and we can get a taxi from her-"

"I think it'll cause more trouble if you leave my apartment at night. I saw some sasaeng on our way back here"

You felt bad, this is your first time encountering your bias and you have caused much trouble for him. Seeing how persistent Jaehyun were, you decided to stay. Besides, he really didn't seem uncomfortable leaving the house at the moment after mentioning the sasaeng.

You opened your iPad as you made yourself comfortable on the sofa and started studying the repackage concept after the upcoming comeback for 127. Thanks to the impromptu presentation, you have the slides for the next comeback. You were focused on studying when suddenly Jaehyun went to you with a pair of white tshirt and a plaid sleep pants.

“Here, you can change into these if you want too and it’s okay too if your not comfortable doing so”

“Thanks, I’ll just stay in this outfit for a bit until I finish studying”

He smiled at you at your gesture, looking at how immerse you are at your job.

“So what are you studying?”, he asked as he sits besides you at the carpet.

“Well, from what i know this is the repackage concept for your comeback. You wanna have look?”

“Yeah, sure. Gotta make sure I look good in it”, he jokes.

You laughed at his actions. The night continues with both of you sharing experiences with each other, you share your concert experiences and how you ended up in Seoul while he shares TMI during their trainee's day. Both of you shared the warmth of the conversation together that cold night.

Later that morning, you left the apartment with Beom Suk once he was sober enough to walk. You made sure to thank Jaehyun for the night before you left.

—

As another Monday comes in, another chaos comes around. You and Beom Suk sat quietly at your desk, listening to the argument between Daeun and the rest of the team. Apparently, SM decided to sack off Daeun due to her inappropriate attitude lately.

It's been weeks since the Daeun incident. With no supervisor around, you and Beom Suk had little task to do and seems like everyone was just too busy for you guys. You question how the system and organisation really works. Regardless, you still try your best every day.

You sat in front of Beom Suk at the lunch table, your appetite was long gone along with your motivation. Beom Suk lets a sigh as he looks at you playing with your food. He saw 127 members entering the cafeteria. He thought it might be a good chance to lift up your mood, knowing how much you like them.

"Y/n, look it's 127", Beom Suk shakes your little hand, making you turn towards them.

"What's the use of that? Our work is not even close to that. We are to be sacked off too like Daeun unnie"

Beom Suk answered nothing, as both of you returned to your lunch quietly. Just as you entered the lift together with Beom Suk, you met the senior who was with you during the presentation.

"y/n it's been a while", she said, smiling at you.

"Hi, it's nice to see you too. This is my coworker, Beom Suk"

She exchanges bows with Beom Suk.

"I heard about Daeun resigning, it must have been a tough position for both of you"

"Yes, it is, do call us if there's any work we can help you with", you answered politely.

"Actually, we do have some work if you like. Do you have some time?"

You give it a look to Beom Suk, unsure if it's a good idea for both of you to jump at another team's work but you figured out Daeun used to be a part of another team as well and you guys had extra lunchtime so you decided to stop by. They showed you around with the NCT team, the album photo shoot, the fashion line and the choreography for the upcoming tour. It never fails to make you feel more proud of them.

Once the lunch hour was over, you and Beom Suk made your way back to your office floor and of course, you could not stop talking about how much you liked the concept and you had already imagined the fans (you) would react. His tender smile naturally reflected his genuine feelings, he was happy for her.

"But don't you think the youngest fashion designer looks familiar to you?", you asked Beom Suk.

"Well, I really couldn't tell. There were too many people back there"

Your mind went puzzled, you were so sure you'd made some of them somewhere but none of your memories rang the bells. You shook the thought off when the lift indicates the office floor.

"You think this colour suits him more?", Yun Hee asked.

"Hm yeah, Johny really suits any colour though but black does matches his hair"

"If then, let's go with shirtless! We can add more accessories", you were stunned.

"Suit yourself"

You have been visting 127's team lately with Beom Suk, the team also love that you were there often. They really appreciate your idea. You were there again with Beom Suk during their album photoshoot, lucky you, your design team allowed you and Beom Suk since there were not much work for you guys for the time being.

As you entered the room with Beom Suk, you can see the car in the middle of the set, covered with white wall around. When Yun Hee and the rest of the styling team entered the room, you knew the members was ready for the shoot.

"I think they look great!", Yun Hee whispered to your ear as she dash next you and Beom Suk.

You turn over your sight towards the members entering the room after Yun Hee.

You froze with your muscles locked in a momentary paralysis, surprise with the visual in front of your eyes. You felt your inner fangirl could scream any moment now, just like when they first appear at any concerts.

"Hey, didn't expect you here", Jaehyun said when he pass by you.

He was the last member to enter the room. It quickily snap you back to reality. Reminding you are here as a stuff at SM.

You were unable to think, you wanted to answer him perfectly that you eventually missed the chance. You just replied to him with a smile, as he made his way to the set.

The photoshoot went smoothly, you observe how they started editing the pictures as they also started shooting for the individual photoshoot.

Jaehyun started talking to you now and then whenever he was free, you were glad he did not ignore you completely after the incident at his apartment yet you can't help noticing youngest member of the fashion line had been eyeing you and Jaehyun all day. It definitely felt weird, more like she was stalking you.

"Are you feeling uncomfortable?", Jaehyun asked, he was quick to notice the situation.

"I am a bit uncomfortable actually, maybe it's because of the cameras", you lied.

"It's okay, just ignore them. You'll get used to it soon"

"You're saying it like I'm the one who is an idol", you joke.

"Well, if I would want to talk to you again, would it be in a situation like this too?"

Your mind went puzzled again.

"Do you mean you wanna talk to me more often?"

"Yeah, I would like to. It's nice to have a conversation like this once in a while"

A soft smile played on his lips, you stared at the in front of you. It cannot be more perfect.

You pushed the thoughts aside when they call Jaehyun for the individual shoot and offered you and Beom Suk to edit the photocards for the album, which both of you gladly took the job.

“Y/N?”

You heard someone calling you as you step out of the company, finally ending the day. It took you by surprise that it was the one was who calling you was the familiar fashion designer you talk about to Beom Suk the other day.

“Hi. I am Rose, I haven’t formally introduced myself to you”, she reach out her hand to you.

“Hi, odd to meet you here. Can i help you with anything?”

“No no”, she quickly cleared the assumption before continuing.

“I just wanted to invite you to dinner, since now we are on the same team”

She sounded very uncanny, but she was indeed really kind to the rest of the team and you wanted to get to know her more so you accept her invitation to dinner. It took you by surprise on how ordinarythe dinner was. Both of you exchanged stories and really had nice conversations.

“Are you 127 fan, y/n?”

“Yes, I am a fan. Although I do love my job as a graphic designer at SM, I won’t lie working with your bias is a good motivation”

“Is Jaehyun your bias? I saw you talking to him on the set today”

“He is, I’ve been a fan since-“

“Is that’s why you go to his apartment the other day?”, she confronted you.

That’s when it hits you. Rose was one of the sasaengs that waited outside Jaehyun’s apartment. Suddenly, everything makes senses to you.

Her gazed immediately changed when her intention was out. It creeps you out the fact she is working for the 127 inside the company. Having a lot of access and information about the members.

“You misunderstood the situation, Rose. It’s nothing like you imagined”

“I know it’s not like that, we know”, giving insight to you that she’s not the only one.

“I have an offer to make. How about you tell me about Jaehyun or what’s is in his apartment and we pay you and release a insight he is dating someone like you?”

You could not believe what Rose was doing. Of course it would be flattering that Jaehyun had a scandal with you but being paid for being in a scandal while you know it’s less that true is really beneath you. You felt insulted.

“I am not interested in selling Jaehyun’s name or to be in your dirty game, Rose. You know this is against the company and idols policy”

“We’re never know, y/n. I can already imagine how heartbreaking it is for you when Jaehyun reveals his true colours”

You remain silents. It is true idols are products of how the company have groom them to be and it will be devastating to know that they might not be the same as what you had pictured them. But you can’t let Rose get into your head, Jaehyun deserve to live as much as you do.

“Nice dinner with you, Rose”, you stood up from the table and leaving some cash enough to pay your portion of the dinner.

“You can always find my number in the group chat, y/n”

“Your just selfish because you couldn’t have your bias to yourself”, your turn your back to Rose, storming out of the restaurant.

—

Not long after, you and Beom Suk joined 127 team. Your previous team had a great conflict on the new upcoming team, where they are considering taking out some members of NCT. The conflict worsen day after day until they decided to discontinue the team for the time being. As a fan, you felt bad you couldn’t defend the members. The best you could do now is wait for the company to decide and give out an official statement before you and Beom Suk could continue your original work.

Today, you focus on editing the cover of the album. It’s due by the end of the week. The nearer the comeback date, the more workload you have. It gives you a lot of pressure, it’s the first time you handle editing for a comeback. You wanted to excel your work, especially for NCT.

Looking at the clock that strikes 10 p.m, you decide to wrap up your work. You search for Yun Hee, hoping she’s still around but she was nowhere to be found at her desk. So you thought she might be with the members for some measurements or final fitting.

You press the button to the practise room floor, you’ve been there a few times with Beom Suk when both of you worked on the content editing during the time both of you were waiting your own desk. Those moments definitely became core memories for you.

—

“Let’s have dinner together, y/n”, Johnny said to you, who was focusing on the editing.

“Pardon?”

“I said, let’s have dinner together. Everyone here is going. It’s hyung’s treat”, he grinned at the choreographer.

During that time, the incident with Rose was pretty recent so you thought it’s better for you to avoid being with them too much. Being at the practise room frequent was good enough for Rose to follow you around.

“I’ll have to rain check this one. I’m really sorry”

“Are you skipping dinner? Again?”, Beom Suk asked worriedly.

“No, it’s just that I really have to finish this editing so-“

“Y/n, it’s we have to finish this editing. Come on, I’ll help you out later”

“That’s not it, Beom Suk”

“Then why are you not going?”

Johnny quietly witnessed the situation, he too wanted to know why you have been skipping a lot of their invitations. At the corner of your eye, you can see Jaehyun was there too waiting for your answer.

It was hard for you to explain, you should told them about the sasaeng situation in the first place so that it won’t be complicated for you. You held back screams of frustration. Deep inside you felt mad at Rose for making you feel obligated to her, at the same time you were disappointed in yourself for being scared of her. It took a while for you to process your thoughts when you finally made the decision.

"You know what? Let's go", you said, closing the laptop in front of you.

Johnny and Jaehyun begin to grin ear to ear at your decision. On your way out of the building, the choreographer starts to counsel you on how you shouldn't stress out and give yourself a little fun along your career until all of you make it into the lift.

"Hyung, I think she gets it already", Jaehyun placed his hand on the choreographer's shoulder.

He certainly has saved you in that situation. You peek over your shoulders at Jaehyun. In moments of bliss, both lips curved into matching smiles.

All of you headed to the restaurant, and you tried your best to not walk closely or look too friendly to the members. You walked at the back of them, looking at the ground figuring out how things around.

"Y/N", you heard.

You immediately lifted up your head.

"Yes, Jaehyun. Is there something wrong?", you were concerned and he let out a chuckled at your action.

"I think I should be the one asking. You seem uncomfortable again"

"There's so much going on right now with the comeback", you tried not to spill out about Rose to him.

"Is everything okay? You know you can talk to me if you want to"

And that statement itself made you flutter, you smiled uncontrollably. Although you tried your best to hide it, it was pretty visible to Jaehyun. He couldn’t help but smile at you.

"I haven't sorted out my mind on this stuff that I'm not okay with, but I really should warn you to be careful with the people around you"

At the end of the day, you wanted Jaehyun to be happy and live comfortably just like a normal person except that you regretted saying that when his soft expression turned immediately to anger and worry.

"Has anyone been hurting you? You were blackmailed?", this was the first time you saw this side of Jaehyun and you wished it was your last.

"No, no Jaehyun. I'm fine. It's just I've been watching a few sasaeng fans videos during my work and it worries me that it's might be you going through"

Jaehyun came back to his normal state as you too tried your best to calm down.

“So your saying you want me to be careful of people around me?”

“Yes”

“Have you seen anyone suspicious around me?”

“Yes”, you spoke honestly, making an eye contact with him. He stared at your eyes, both of you stayed at that position for a while.

“Okay. I was about to tell you not to worry so much about things around and enjoy your times with us. Why don’t you help to keep an eye for me since I don’t know how is the suspicious person-“

You felt bad, you should’ve be the whistleblower and tell the company about Rose.

“And in exchange, I’ll spend more time with you”, Jaehyun continued.

“You mean more conversations? Because that’s the only thing we do”, you giggled.

“Yeah that would do, i can be your listener if you want someone to talk too. Plus, I like hearing you speak”

“Thanks, Jaehyun. I really look forward to that”, both of you smiled at your shared secret, making your way to restaurant to enjoy the rest of the night.

—

Once the elevator stops at your floor, you went straight ahead to the practise room area. You took a peek at the door, making sure it’s 127’s room before entering. You saw Yun Hee at the corner of the room measuring Yuta while the other members were practicing.

“Is everything okay?”, you asked, looking at how intense Yun Hee is.

“Apparently someone lose the measurements for the concert outfits, now we have to measure it all again”, she was so focus she couldn’t bother lifting up her face to you. You understood her actions.

“Was it you, Yun Hee?”

“Of course not. Do you think I take my job lightly?”

You were stunned at the sudden burst, Yun Hee was at her peck moment. Luckily Yuta was quick to address her.

“I don’t think she meant that way, Yun Hee”, he explained.

“It wasn’t her and I’m sure of it. The person who has been measuring us the same person all the time. It’s not Yun Hee”

“If she’s measuring it all the time, doesn’t mean she can use the previous measurements?”

“She doesn’t have all those, she’s new. I assume she lost the whole book or just didn’t bother to keep it”, Yun Hee spoke.

While you try to understand the situation, you heard the door swing open, followed with the sound of small steps close enough to tell they were running.

“There you are. You should be here the moment you lost the book”, Yun Hee said to Rose.

You didn’t like what was happening. Instead of helping Yun Hee, you questioned more Rose intention. Did she really lost the book or she’s just trying to get on people’s nerves? Yun Hee started scolding her, as you can Yun Hee has been in deep stress lately. The members are stop their practise and slowly approaching them.

It made you realise Rose really wanted to be noticed by the members. Regardless whatever it takes.

“Yun Hee let’s not do this here, you need to focus on what to do next”, you quickly reminded her before it gets worse.

Yun Hee looked at you sternly, as she let out a long sigh and looked at the ground.

“I’ll help you. We can get this done by tonight, I’ll call for Beom Suk. He’s always here”, you continued.

“No, we can’t. The members really need to rest tonight. We can’t drag any more time”

“It’s okay, Yun Hee. Yun Hee right, your name?”, Johnny asked.

“You can measure us quickly now, only we’re a bit sweaty now. Sorry about that. Here, measure me now”, he pick up the measuring tape and pass it to Rose.

Yun Hee smiled a little, she was glad to see people are willing to help. You softly put your hand at her shoulder.

“I’ll help too, okay?”, picking up another measuring tape.

Although you are not sure of what to do, but it won’t hurt to help. Jaehyun approach you while you were trying to figure out how and what to measure.

“Please measure me, miss”, he said, opening his arms straight to the side. Indicating he was ready, you laughed at him and played along.

“Okay sir. Please note this is my first time, I might need to measure you a few times”

“As you please, madame.”

You and Jaehyun had fun as you two played around when you measured him. Of course the other could see how the both of you enjoying each other’s company, so they let the two of you have sometime together.

“Y/N, can I check the measurements?”, Rose interrupt the laughter.

“Yeah sure, here is it. Is it okay?”

“Well, apparently there’s a lot weird measurements here. I think I need to remeasure him.”

She immediately took the tape and start to measure Jaehyun, pushing you slightly. Jaehyun didn’t like what he was witnessing, he reluctantly gave Rose a glare. Her intentions were clear to you, but you did not want to make things anymore complicated so you start help measuring other members.

The night was late after all of you finished with the measurements and as to make up to it, all of them decided to have some drinks that night.

You were about to make your way out of the studio along with other, when Jaehyun gently pulled your wrist.

“Hey, let’s walk together. To make up with the wrong measurements”, he trying to taste the water making sure your okay.

“Sure.”

The group disper off in their own direction heading towards home after the drink. Some of them were really drunk, unlike you. You're glad Beom Suk was there to make sure they didn't ask you much about why you weren't drinking.

"Are you sure you don't want me to walk you home?", Beom Suk asked.

"Looking at your stand, I'll be the one walking you home. Thanks for offering anyway."

Beom Suk smiled at you as he waved at you before heading towards the opposite direction. Just then, Jaehyun ran out of the bar after you.

"Do you care for some midnight walks?"

Under the cloak of night, the Han River becomes a place of quiet contemplation. The rhythmic hum of traffic fades into the background, replaced by the soothing melody of crickets and the occasional splash of a fish breaking the surface. The city skyline twinkles like a jewel in the darkness and there was you and Jaehyun.

In the dark night, he sure shines bright to you.

You thanked all your bad days that led to this moment shared with him. Both of you stop at the fence of the river, looking down at the gentle waves of the river.

"Have you protected me today?", he broke the silence.

"I have", you said proudly, and he was glad.

"Funny how some of us come here, feeling depressed while some come here, feeling content", you continued.

"So how do you feel?"

"Healed."

He admired how you were able to feel content and appreciate the days, even when they were tiring or difficult. The more he got to know you, the more he could appreciate his own days.

"You are truly the strongest person I know, y/n," sliding his gaze slightly towards you as you did the same.

"I have great motivation here", you said smirking.

"What's your motivation?"

"NCT"

Both of you laughed at the answer. It felt a bit awkward for you to say it in front of a member, maybe because you never had to chance to join any fan meet or win a fan call event. Even though, saying it through fan meet and fan call would definitely be less embarrassing.

"I admire how fans have us as motivation and their pillar strength, making tough times easier. I envy that sometimes", he opened up to you and you listened to him dearly.

"What will shine the brightest to you will definitely come to you during the darkness. You'll find your light, trust me. You're my light!"

Jaehyun felt pleased listening to you. The night ended with you and Jaehyun walking down the street heading home to rest, filled with laughs and giggles along the way.

"I wish we could do this every night, it will heal me", you joke.

"Then let's do it."

Their gazes locked, and time seemed to pause, an eternity encapsulated within a fleeting moment following Jaehyun's heartfelt statement.

You contemplated what to answer him, and in that moment of uncertainty, you simply bid your goodbyes and headed your way, leaving him alone on the street, pondering the depth of your interaction.

“You looked really tired. Do you want to take a day off? I can help you out with the works”, Beom Suk looked at you worriedly.

“No, I’m really okay”

“Do you perhaps still hangover from last night?”, Yun Hee asked.

“No, Y/N don’t drink.”

“Thank you for remembering”, you grinned at Beom Suk.

As the members and rest of team entered the meeting room before they start the short briefing for the comeback and schedules. There will be a tour this time, it will be more work for the team and the members yet you can see how all of them were happy for this opportunity. It has been a while since they had a tour, looking at how much work they will be doing later really shows you how much NCT has grown.

“And that is all”, said the team leader, indicating the end of the meeting.

“Oh and the graphic team, don’t forget to submit the album for printing”, he quickly added.

You and Beom Suk nodded.

The editing team was chaotic that evening. The deadline for the album printing is today, and all of you gave out your last 100% for this.

“Please make sure you check the folder before sending”, the team leader reminded you and Beom Suk.

Both of you struggled with saving and making sure none of the graphic are pixelated. After so much trouble, you check one last time on the folder and clicked send.

“We did it”, Beom Suk reached out his hand for a high five to you as you replied it.

You sank your weak body into the chair, ready to end the day at the office.

The comeback happens smoother than you could have imagined. Everyone's spirits were high, eagerly anticipating the tour and embracing their new schedules with enthusiasm. Your friendship with Jaehyun continued to progress, deepening over time. Well, you didn’t go to Han River every night, but you and Jaehyun find time for each other perfectly. Moreover, you found yourself gradually overcoming your anxiety about Rose. Nothing could go wrong, you thought, as you filled your heart with each passing day.

You were making your way at the bar with Jaehyun, laughing on today’s inside jokes together. As you approach the red tent, Jaehyun automatically rise his hand lifting up the tent for you.

“Ladies first”

“Thank you”, you replied.

It took a while for you to search for the rest of the team and members. Most of the tables were taken by the time you reached. Although in the mid of your search, Jaehyun froze when he noticed Daeun at the table with the rest of them.

“Y/N, Jaehyun, over here!”, they called for you.

The rest of dinner was delight for you, it has been a longtime since the last time you met Daeun. You excitedly told her how well the concept is been going for the team that you. However, you couldn’t help but noticing how Daeun has been exchanging and taking glances at Jaehyun who was beside you at the table throughout the night.

It did made you feel uncomfortable, it felt like you were holding Jaehyun back from something so you decided to go out of the tent for a while with faking that you wanted some fresh air from the smell of alcohol and Daeun did seize the opportunity to approach Jaehyun.

Through the tent, you can see Daeun absolutely hit it off with Jaehyun.

“They really look good together”, Johnny said, taking you by surprise. He went out for smoke when he saw you peaking on them.

Only god knows how much you wanted to scream “NO!” on top of lungs to Johnny’s question. But again, you’ll suffer more living in this imaginary world of yours.

“Yes”, you answered. “They would be a perfect couple.”

Daeun comes over to talk to you when you return to the bar, but is only met with awkward conversation instead of the same boisterous talks you had. You wanted to blame it so much on Johnny’s statement that melded in your mind but deeply you know you was just upset if wasn’t you.

You would be lying if you say you didn’t cry yourself to bed that night.

“At least it’s sends me to sleep”, you thought to yourself when you woke up with puffed eyes the next morning.

Regardless it didn’t stop you from work. With those eyes, you sat on your desk the next morning and continue editing. Shallowing all the pain and heartache you felt last night.

—

The atmosphere among the office workers is tense and fraught with unease as you arrive at the desk that day. Beom Suk and the other colleagues are frantically searching through files or documents, while the team leader is furiously typing emails and making urgent phone calls. Your emotions run high, with feelings of anxiety and perhaps even panic palpable in the air. You aren't sure what's going on in the office.

"Yes, we are very sorry. We will address and amend the cover straight away," you hear the team leader say on the phone.

Your eyes widen in alarm. It was you who emailed the cover for printing. Just then, the team leader calls her out to the meeting room and scolds you about the mistake on the cover. Apparently, SM had printed out the album and released it. Soon, the fans noticed Doyoung was not on the cover, and the situation went viral on the internet.

As hard as it is for you to brush off the emotions, you begin going through the files again and resending the correct folder for printing. Despite the lingering anxiety, you focus on rectifying the mistake and ensuring that the issue is promptly resolved. Once the situation is handled and the correct files are sent, you step out of the office to take a moment to calm down. You sat on the bench on the terrace alone with your coffee when a familiar figure came next to you.

"Hey", said Beom Suk, you felt calm again.

"Can I cry now?", Beom Suk immediately taps on his shoulder and shoves it slightly towards you, ensuring you he'll be there for you.

It made you smile, even with tears rolling down your cheeks. You lean on towards him, putting your head on his shoulders.

"Beom Suk, I have something to tell you"

"What is it?"

"I didn't send the wrong file"

“What?” he asked, as if he hadn’t heard what had been said.

"I checked the files before sending, in fact, Doyoung was the last person I edited so I remember it clearly," you explain, trying to ease his confusion.

"I'm not sure how, but the email was sent twice, and the second one wasn't from me," you add, feeling a pang of frustration at the situation.

"Well, do you know who it is? You should really clear out your name," he says, his tone edged with frustration as he tries to stand up from the bench, ready to confront whoever is responsible. But you quickly reach out and hold his arm, stopping him.

"It's okay, you'll find out who it is later. Let's just stay like this for a while," you say softly, wanting to diffuse the tension and find solace in each other's company amidst the chaos.

That night, the members invited you out for a drink again. However, halfway through the evening, you begin to feel uneasy about being with them at the moment. You decide to personally apologize to Doyoung for the mistake. Thankfully, he forgives you and offers you some comfort, reassuring you that he didn't take it personally and urging you not to worry about it.

Grateful for his understanding, you thank him sincerely before excusing yourself from the bar. Despite their invitations, you feel the need to retreat and process your emotions in solitude, hoping to find clarity and peace of mind away from the distractions of the night.

At times like this, you can't help but feeling sad, wishing you could stroll along the peaceful Han River with Jaehyun by your side. But ever since that night with Daeun, your once-close friendship with Jaehyun has faded, The silence between you weighs heavily on your heart, leaving you feeling lonely. Despite longing for his company, the unspoken tension makes it difficult to bridge the gap between you two.

“Where have you been? Aren’t you supposed to protect me?”, Jaehyun smirked.

“Oh sorry, Jaehyun. Things got messed up again”

“Great, I like messes!”

You laughed.

“No, you don’t”

“I do, come on tell me what’s going on. You left the bar alone again last night”

The image of Jaehyun hanging around with Daeun flashes back in your mind. It was almost like your still at the bar.

“Nothing that big nor about the comeback, so don’t worry”, you continue to march on with your arms crossed, hoping Jaehyun would scoff off any minute but he caught you arm holding you back.

“Y/N, do you not want to talk to me anymore?”, he looked serious.

“Not today, I’m sorry”, as you push his hands away from you and walk off.

As you expected, he didn't try to stop you from leaving. You glance back at Jaehyun as he walks away, feeling regret. You realise you've become used to getting what you want lately, and now you're feeling greedy for his company.

You forget your thoughts as you see Rose passing by the corridor. Without hesitation, you march towards her and quickly grab her wrist.

"What are you doing?", she struggles to release her hand from your grip.

"I'm letting you know that the tricks you are playing are not funny anymore and you should stop hacking into someone's computer", letting go of her hand.

Rose smirks at you with a wicked gleam in their eyes. Behind those eyes, she enjoys how agitated you are. She can't wait for the next evil scheme.

"Looks like reality is finally hitting you, y/n", Rose said to you, making you frown.

"You really don't scare me, Rose"

"Of course, I don't. Your job will"

"And Jaehyun's true colours with do it themselves to you", she added.

You strode away from her, your footsteps thundering down the hall. Clouded by a storm of emotions and rage, you feel torn. Protecting Jaehyun means everything to you, yet your job is equally important. Juggling both was taking its toll, gradually wearing you out.

You were about to pick up a tray as you arrived at the cafeteria when Beom Suk approached you.

"Hey, have the team leader spoken to you?", grabbing your attention.

"About what?" you ask, your tired body making its way through the food section.

"The tour, we're coming with them"

You flinched at his words. After Rose hinted at her sinister intentions, you couldn't shake the feeling that it had something to do with the concert. It seemed like she knew all along that you were going to follow them on tour as well.

"No", you protest.

"Yes, y/n. Remember when you told me you wanted to travel a lot during your 20s? This is a perfect opportunity"

"Perfect opportunity for Rose", you thought.

Beom Suk was right. After returning from lunch, the team leader called for a meeting and announced that you and Beom Suk would be joining 127 on tour to work on the stage graphics. While others congratulated you happily and mentioned it as an opportunity to become a permanent member, your heart couldn't fully embrace the joy. Instead, anxiety crept in, overshadowing any sense of excitement you might have felt.

—

After weeks of sleepless nights, this morning you marked crossed on the calendar at your house, looking at the reminder that you wrote on today's date.

TOUR TRIP D-DAY

The nerves crept in, making the moment feel surreal. It seemed too good to be true, yet you knew deep down that you deserved this opportunity. You and Beom Suk had worked tirelessly for this comeback and tour, overcoming countless obstacles. Through all the challenges, you poured your heart and soul into your work, and now, you found yourself at the top. Despite the anxiety, you wanted to allow yourself to feel proud of your accomplishments.

"Hello, yes, Beom Suk?" you picked up the call, abruptly halting your daydream and bringing you back to reality.

"Hey y/n, sorry to break it to you, but we're having a serious problem with the flight tickets," Beom Suk's voice crackled through the phone.

"What do you mean?" you asked, your heart sinking.

"I'm with Manager Hyung right now, and it looks like our tickets, along with Jaehyun and Taeyong's, were not booked."

"WHAT?" Your disbelief echoed through the phone, mingling with a rising sense of panic.

You made your way to the company straight away after the phone call. As you reached the advertising and promotion floor, you spotted the member gathered on the couch near the entrance, their expressions reflecting a sense of hopelessness. A wave of pity washed over you, stronger for them than for yourself.

The manager went to get their flight tickets earlier this morning when they found out the reservations had been mysteriously cancelled by someone in the company.

The atmosphere filled with frustration and anger grew as they tried to rebook flights at such short notice proved difficult. Hours passed with no solution in sight. Jaehyun and Taeyong sat quietly, tired and disappointed.

In a tough decision, they sent Jaehyun and Taeyong back home temporarily while the rest of the members and team proceeded with their scheduled flight. It was hard, but it was the best decision they could make.

As they bid goodbye, promises were made to keep Jaehyun and Taeyong updated on the situation. With heavy hearts, they watched their friends leave, hoping for new tickets soon.

You remained there with Beom Suk, both of you tiredly trying to sort out the situation and waiting for the staff to deal with the new tickets. Taking a seat on the couch, you let out a long sigh of exhaustion. With your eyes closed, you lean back, resting your head against the soft cushions.

"Are you okay? You've been staying up the whole week to finish this work", Beom Suk asked, he was worried for you.

"I'm a bit tired, I should be sleeping on the plane by now"

"Just hold on for a bit, okay? It will be okay soon", you nodded to him.

After what felt like an eternity of waiting and uncertainty, a sense of relief washed over the room as the staff finally announced that the new flight tickets had been successfully booked.

You and Beom Suk exchanged tired but grateful smiles, your weary expressions giving way to a glimmer of hope. Both of you quickly gathered your belongings.

As you called Taeyong and Jaehyun for the pick-up at the airport, your heart sank when Jaehyun didn't answer his calls. Concern etched into your brow as you tried multiple times, each attempt met with the same silence.

Thoughts raced through your mind, imagining various scenarios that could explain his lack of response. The driver wasted no time and headed straight to Jaehyun's apartment. You and Beom Suk hurriedly made your way to his building, heartbeats quickening with each step. With the passcode provided by the manager, you swiftly punched in the numbers and the door clicked open.

Your eyes widen as you entered Jaehyun's apartment. The smell of the house felt familiar to you, even some of the stuffs seems familiar to you. Although it was hard to recognise where you seen them. Just then you found yourself in front of the master bedroom, the door was slightly open enough to have peek in and the view was a disappointment to you.

Clothes shuttered on the floor, both a man and woman clothes. You gather up all the courage you ever had in you as you lift up your head to the bed. You saw Jaehyun's naked body, sleeping with his arms wrapped around Daeun's naked body.

"At the end of the day, Jaehyun is a man of his own and I am a delusional fan", a bitter realisation settling in your heart.

As your eyes slowly turning into glass, Beom Seok quickily reach out the door knob slamming the door close. Hoping it was enough to wake up the lovebirds inside.

"Hyung, your flight leaves in 3 hours we need to go now", he screamed from the door.

Beom Seok turned his gaze to your stone figure. He knew how much Jaehyun meant to you, caught Jaehyun in bed with someone who is close to you definitely breaks your heart in pieces and Beom Seok can see that through your eyes.

"Y/N, please grab Jaehyun's luggage and passport at the living room. Take it down at the car, okay? Wait for me there", he said as he bends down to catch your eyes.

You wiped the drolling tears across your cheeks and responded to Beom Seok's instruction. The next thing you know, you witnessed Jaehyun and Daeun bid goodbyes. Giving them one last kiss before all of you made it to the airport after picking up Taeyong.

The fans ran everywhere, pushing each other and flashing their cameras and phones at them. Your body was definitely exhausted by now as you tried your best to make it through the crowd of fans following Jaehyun and Taeyong. As you continue walking, you feel your leg trembling like a jelly. With no hesitation, you held on to Beom Seok's wrist for support and whispered.

"I can't stand"

"Hold on to me, we'll find a place for you to sit at the gate", firmly fixing your hand on his arm, both of you continued walking like that until the gate.

Jaehyun watched the scene unfold with a heavy sigh, realising the toll their fame was taking on you. It pained him to see you and Beom Suk caught up in the chaos, especially now that you had witnessed his relationship firsthand.

Finally reaching the gate, you collapsed into a weary nap against Beom Suk's shoulder, the exhaustion of the day finally catching up to you.

"Y/N, we need to board the plane now", Beom Seok shook you gently.

"Oh really? Thank you Beom Seok, for letting me lean on your shoulder"

"No problem Y/N, you really needed that nap", he replied as all of you made your way to the plane.

"Yeah, I'd love to continue that in the plane. I'm reserving your shoulder again," Beom Suk smiled at your statement as he glanced at your boarding pass.

"But Y/N, your not sitting beside me"

"What?", as you searched for the seat number on your boarding pass.

Your heart skipped a beat when you made eye contact with Jaehyun as both of you boarded the plane. The stewardess asked for your seat, and even Beom Suk refused to believe it.

"I'm sitting next to him", you said to the stewardess.

Jaehyun helped put your bags in the compartment above before both of you made yourself comfortable in your seats. You remained silence at your seat, giving Jaehyun the cold shoulder, still hurt by what you had witnessed earlier.

Jaehyun, sensing the distance, felt the guilt for the discomfort he had caused. He gently reached out to offer you a blanket, and headphones when your's didn't work, and even adjusted the air conditioning, hoping to provide some comfort during the flight as he was determined to mend the strained relationship.

You stubbornly ignored his gesture, your gaze fixed firmly out the window. Jaehyun was unfazed by your actions and persisted, quietly asking if you needed anything or if you were feeling alright.

As soon as the flight dims the lights to indicate nighttime, your emotions overwhelm you once more. Tears welled up in your eyes as feelings of betrayal washed over you, you wondered why Jaehyun had toyed with your feelings if he wanted to be with someone else.

Trying your best to conceal your sobbing, you assumed Jaehyun was asleep. But as you struggled with your tears, a gentle hand reached out to touch your shoulder, surprising you. You turned to find Jaehyun looking at you with concern, his eyes filled with empathy.

"Y/N, are you okay?" he whispered softly, his voice laced with genuine concern.

You longed for Jaehyun's comfort and presence, but the reminder of his relationship status held you back. You missed him, yet you couldn't ignore the boundaries.

You couldn't bring herself to open up to Jaehyun anymore.

"I... I don't want to talk right now." you declined Jaehyun's offer of comfort, your voice trembling slightly.

It pained you to push him away, but you couldn't ignore the reality of their circumstances. With your decision you turned away, seeking solace in the solitude of your thoughts as you grappled with conflicted emotions.

As you reached the destination, you, Beom Suk, and Yun Hee went on an exhilarating tour of the country, exploring its sights and immersing yourselves in its culture in every free time the three of you had aside from work. Every moment was filled with laughter and joy as you created cherished memories together.

Meanwhile, the members dedicated themselves to rehearsals, pouring their hearts and souls into perfecting their performances for the upcoming tour. Their determination never wavered.

Amidst the excitement and busyness of the tour, you found yourself avoiding any mention of what had happened between you and Jaehyun. You pushed aside your feelings of sadness, burying them deep within as you threw yourself into the distractions of sightseeing and work.

One night, you found someone texting you in the middle of the night after work and the second you saw the text you knew who was it from.

‘Glad you found yourself a ticket to the tour. Suprise with his true colours yet? We are ready to have you here’

You were tempted to give out the details. It haunts you that you were tempted. The feeling of betrayal and anger lingers in your mind. Tears starts to gather in your eyes as soon you found yourself typing out Jaehyun caught in bed with ex staff, you couldn’t click send. It kills you to betray him.

He has nothing against you and so do you. Again, you reminded yourself what you use to tell Rose.

“Your just selfish because you couldn’t have your bias to yourself”

As you switch off the phone and tossed it aside. You tried your best to calm down, so you decided to go out of your hotel room and sit by the pool. No longer after, Beom Suk approached you.

At first, both of you shared simple and fun conversations but as time went on his usual cheerful character was replaced by a very serious look. You could feel the conversation getting deeper.

"Y/N, with what happened between you and Jaehyun, I just want to remind you it's okay to be sad and mad," he began, his voice barely above a whisper.

"But dwelling on those emotions won't change what happened."

You looked at him, each word carrying a weight that resonated deep within your soul. It was as if he had peeled back the layers of your heart, revealing the rawness hidden beneath the surface.

He placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. His eyes looked the same went he first offered you his shoulders, again he reminds you he'll be there with you for anything.

"I loved him," you confessed,

"And it hurts a little too much," your voice trembling with the rawness of your emotions.

The words carry out the heavy burden lifted from your chest. The emotions finally became too much for you to bear with tears welling up in your eyes.

That night, Beom Suk listened you tentatively. You told him everything that has happened between you and Jaehyun, along with the saseng you met along the way.

He comforted you with his words to your wounded heart. But as the night wore on, Beom Suk gently reminded you to focus on the task at hand – the upcoming tour.

"Y/N, I know it's difficult," he began softly, his voice filled with empathy. "But you're not alone. We're all here for you, every step of the way."

"Remember," he said with a reassuring smile, "fans are counting on us to deliver. Let's give it our all, together."

You nodded in agreement, grateful for Beom Suk's wise words and encouragement. Though the road ahead may be difficult, you knew that with Beom Suk by your side, you were ready to face whatever challenges came your way.

Bringing along the lingering tension between you and Jaehyun, you managed to pull yourself together for the tour, throwing yourself into your work with renewed determination. Each performance was a testament to your resilience, a reminder that you were capable of rising above the pain and focusing on the task at hand.

You also you had it enough with Rose after the night she texted. You realised that stooping to her level would only perpetuate the cycle of toxicity and invasion of privacy that had plagued Jaehyun's life.

So with Beom Suk encouragement, you courageously decide to report her to the company, determined to protect Jaehyun and members from the invasive tactics of sasaeng fans.

Soon the truth came to light – one of Jaehyun's stalkers was working at SM Entertainment, a breach of trust that sent shockwaves through the fandom. In response, the company took immediate action, terminating Rose's employment and sending a clear message that such behaviour would not be tolerated.

As the tour came to an end, you found yourself facing a new chapter in your career – working on the debut of a new boy group for SM Entertainment. The opportunity to spearhead such an important project filled you with excitement and anticipation, pushing aside the lingering thoughts of Jaehyun and the unresolved tension between you.

Yet, as the debut day arrived and the new boy group took the stage for their first performance, you felt a sense of pride and accomplishment wash over you. In that moment, all thoughts of the past were pushed aside, replaced by a sense of excitement for the future and the promise of new beginnings.

Years passed, and yet the situation continued to simmer, unresolved and unspoken, until this day. Despite the passage of time, the tension between you and Jaehyun remains an unspoken truth, a silent reminder of the complexities of love and the scars it leaves behind.

Jaehyun arrived at the wedding hall, he was dressed neatly in his black suit with his hair pulled up. An old man greeted him at the hall door which he assume is your father, soon he was escorted to his seat along with the members at the table.

"Glad you made it", Johnny patted his back, welcoming him next to his seat.

The light dimmed as they started the ceremony, all the lights reflected on the crystal chandelier making the hall look dreamy. The band starts playing a lovely melody at the corner of the hall.

"It's just too perfect", Jaehyun thought.

The guests began to clap their hands when they announced that the bride was entering. Jaehyun did not dare to face you, he kept his head forward to the stage while others were already admiring you down the aisle. Tangled with emotions, he knew he shouldn't have missed this moment of you. It might hurt him dearly but he would rather get drunk all night than miss your once-in-a-lifetime moment. He adjusted himself in his seat and turned towards to direction.

Your dress was serenely beautiful and looked ethereal in the soft light. With that smile you put on, it does show you are happier now.

He smiled, reflecting on the joy you brought into his life.

"She's really pretty", Johnny commented on the table.

"She is"

"Didn't you say you had a crush on her back then?", he whispered to Jaehyun.

"I did, it's just I found myself back to Daeun"

"Then, you should have married her!"

Jaehyun's eyes went back to you. How he imagine it was him next to you, instead of Beom Suk. Bitter truth, he was hopelessly in love with someone of the married couple.

"I should", he said while his eyes were serenade by you.

"I should have".

-- ★🎸🎧⋆｡ °⋆ --

#jaehyun #jaehyun angst #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun scenarios #nct 127 #nct scenarios #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun x y/n #jaehyun x you

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daechwitatamic · 6 months ago

Text

Vice;Grip || chapter 1 || chs

(banner by @itaeewon)

Vice;Grip (masterpost) NSFW - minors DNI Genre: angst smut fluff, fuckbuddies!au Summary: Make it not hurt, you could have asked him. Or, at least, make it hurt in a way I choose. A/N: infinite thank you's to @sailoryooons and @eoieopda for beta-ing!! //

Warnings: Frequent depictions of depression, depressive episodes, panic attacks, and substance abuse (alcohol, weed, and pills referenced). PLEASE know that these characters’ relationships with drugs and alcohol are not healthy and should not be emulated. If these topics are triggering to you, please consider sitting this one out. Section Specific Warnings: casual drinking, piv sex, , nip stim, reader on top, drunkenness to the point of blacking out, vomiting due to overdrinking (mentioned very briefly), dirty talk, implied drug use / vernon is high, heavy themes in regards to mental health - allusions to unspecified mental illnesses in the realm of depressive and anxiety disorders

wc: 5800

Playlist: you can call me in the middle of the night / you can leave before i wake up in the morning / and it could feel so wrong / but i'll still hold on

Now

You’ve been used to seeing his face only in puzzle pieces, triangular fragments of glass beside a fallen picture frame. Mostly in flashes of light that are gone too quickly to process the whole picture - as the car he drives passes under a streetlight, as the flashing lights from a dj booth sweep over you before moving on, as the moon crosses over the gap on your window’s blinds that your cat broke two years ago and you never replaced.

Despite this, you know everything about it: how he keeps it carefully flat, but when it breaks it’s always to jump to extremes. How he laughs so hard his features distort and shatter, how his eyebrows nearly meet when he’s breaking and pressing fingers to his eyes, how his eyes squeeze shut when he mouths your name against your neck and presses his fingertips tighter against your skin before letting go. You have it all memorized. You know it by heart, even in the dark.

That was how you met - in the dark. You were dragged to a bar by your best friend Chan, determined to drink until you weren’t annoyed by the existence of everyone around you, until the music and lights seem to flow over and around you, like you’re experiencing them through a thick pane of glass.

He’d been invited, too. He and Chan had friends in common. You’d noticed him early in the night, sometime before things got foggy. Of course you did - even in the dim lighting you could see how good-looking he was, all sharp points and edges. You made note of how he stayed quiet, a tiny smile on an otherwise unchanging face, but his eyes had darted around, following the conversation sharply.

Sharp is your favorite word for him. It fits everything about him, top to toe, inside and out.

Sharp, sharp, sharp.

He looked how you feel inside, even now.

You’d gone back to his place, that night. You still remember him leaning back against the wall of the bar, arms crossed against his chest, mostly in shadow until a pink light passed over you both before leaving you in shadow again. As your eyes adjusted again, pieced his face back together in the dark, one of those eyebrows had lifted in question.

You were surprised at how clean his place was; he was surprised by how cluttered yours was, the next time you’d come together, maybe a week later.

This was almost two years ago; you’d both gotten used to each other since then.

It wasn’t a surprise, each time, when he gasped and then whined when he came, when his grip tightened like he had to make sure you stay put until his heartbeat starts to slow again. Not a surprise when he’d pull his ripped jeans back on less than ten minutes later. Not a surprise when he’d reach out to wiggle your foot through the blankets to make sure you were awake to hear him mutter, “See you,” on his way out. Nothing surprising about how you’d go four days without talking and then send him a wyd?, nor about how he’d come to pick you up, his car idling outside your building within the half hour.

You’d been doing things this way for ages. It was practically a routine. This was just what you two did, in the dark.

You weren’t sure what he did during the day. You and him, you only existed when the sun went down.

You didn’t know what he looked like in the golden hour, or at a restaurant table, or hurrying through a rainy afternoon. You didn’t mind; he belonged to you like this - only in the dark, only in pieces, only in too-quick flashes of light.

It was enough.

Or, you’d pretended it was, for as long as you could.

1 yr 11 months ago

The first few times were simple. You both knew what you were there for. You’d text, he’d come get you. You’d watch his hand on the gear shift as he drove you back to his place. You’d undress each other across his living room, a breadcrumb trail to follow back out when it was over. He’d order you a ride when it was done, you’d get home and shower, sinking into your own bed just as the light started to shift outside, warning everyone that dawn was imminent once again.

Or, conversely, he’d text instead of you. Or he’d drive to your place and stay, pressing you against your entryway wall before even closing the door behind him, threatening all your neighbors with a show. He’d slip out, after, leaving the smell of his cologne on your skin, on your sheets, even - somehow - in your kitchen, where you’d gone for water while he got dressed.

You both knew why you were there. You both knew what you needed out of it: just sex, just fun. You couldn’t even call it friends with benefits because you weren’t friends from dawn to dusk.

The just of it failed to last.

You know precisely the first time it was different, the first time you needed him. You needed the same things as always - his mouth hot on your skin, his hands alternating between sparks of pain and soothing caresses, the stretch of him emptying your mind and pushing every bad feeling out like there wasn’t room for them anymore. But for the first time, you didn’t want those things for enjoyment.

You wanted them as a salve.

Make it not hurt, you could have asked him. Or, at least, make it hurt in a way I choose.

You did ask him, in your own way. With your tongue, with your hands, with your hips. You didn’t know if he could tell that something was different, that you were using him to hide, that your urgency was because you wanted to feel something else. As you moved together under the fairy lights above your bed, the motions were the same as always.

It was after, that was different. Before he got dressed, he’d rolled to face you across the few inches of dark. His statue-like face wasn’t blank, now. Instead, his brows knit just slightly, his lips frowning on the hint of a pout.

“You okay?” he’d asked.

You’d looked back at him, goosebumps rising up and down your arms as your skin cooled. Should you lie? That was the best way to keep him at arm’s length, the best way to make sure this didn’t get too deep, the best way to ensure you didn’t scare him away.

But something made you tell the truth.

“A little better, now,” you admitted, quiet, your voice creeping through the dark like it was avoiding landmines as it tiptoed over your mattress.

He’d nodded, slipping back into the silence he wore best. Then he’d stayed just a few minutes, breathing quietly beside you, before getting up and sliding back into the routine. A few extra minutes of not being alone, like he knew you needed it even if you couldn’t ask for it.

In the silence he left behind, the truth had ballooned into the empty room: something had shifted. Now, on the nights when you hurt, when you weren’t sure you wanted to keep clawing your way through, you had another vice to pick from for distraction. More or less destructive than your other, older vices? You weren’t sure.

Almost two years later, you’re still not sure.

1 yr 10 months ago

The levels of separation were just enough that you didn’t cross paths at a lot of social events. But it was always a little thrilling when the circles did converge, when he appeared at the edge of the group, when the game became act normal in front of everybody.

You like games.

Vernon does, too.

The first time he showed up unexpectedly at the bar, your stomach swooped, and you hid a sneaky smile by tipping back your glass, draining the rest in one go and announcing that you needed a refill.

A game, knowing he’d watch you walk away. A game, knowing he’d have to look away again quickly, before anyone caught on. A game, pretending when you return to the group that you don’t remember his name. A game, knowing that at the end of the night, he’d come home with you and make sure you didn’t remember anything but.

You had too much to drink, too caught up in the fun, in the promise of later, in the thrill of feeling like you were harboring a secret like a precious plant, cupped in loose soil between your muddy fingers.

The alcohol made you lose track of your friends, of the time, of directional stability. You stumbled to the hallway you thought held the bathroom, one sweaty palm slapped against the wall to help you get there.

You’d only been sleeping with him for two months, but his hands on your waist were familiar. So was his mouth, near your ear, asking a familiar question - “You okay?”

“Should probably go home,” you muttered, still present enough to know you were a mess. That others could see your mess.

“Can you get yourself out front?” he asked, and there was something gentle in it. It made your stomach turn; or maybe that was the vodka. It made you want to run, to put distance between you, to remind him that you weren’t his to take care of. It made you want to hiss and spit to remind him that you’re an outdoor cat.

“Why?” you asked, turning in place to face him, something hard riding up in your chest.

He shrugged one shoulder, like it didn’t matter to him if you listened or not. “If you go out now, I’ll order a ride. Then I’ll head out in a few, when the car is here. It’ll look like you left already when I go.”

You narrowed his eyes at him. “You’re being awfully strategic.”

He lifted that eyebrow again. “You want Chan to know we’re fucking?”

The word sizzled through you like an electric shock. But you took a breath and considered the question. “No,” you answered, once you muddled through your soupy brain enough to find the word. “No, I don’t.”

“Okay,” he said, as if that settled that. “I’ll order the ride. Your place okay?”

“Mhm,” you said, distracted, suddenly aware of your lack of equilibrium, nausea making its presence known. You might not have told him goodbye before pushing your way back into the crowded dance floor, weaving around people and squeezing through impossibly tight spaces until you find Chan again.

“My uber’s out front,” you said in greeting.

“What?” he cried, looking betrayed. “It’s not even one-thirty!”

“If I stay,” you told him seriously, “I will hurl. Talk tomorrow?”

He pouted a little but nodded, waving goodbye as you turned and struggled towards the front door.

Stepping from the loud, crowded bar into the quiet street was almost dizzying in itself; you struggled to adjust as you took a few steps away from the door. The lit-up signs from the nearby businesses swam around the edge of your vision, and you swallowed down a fresh wave of nausea.

It seemed like only seconds later, though it must have been at least five minutes, when the car pulled up and Vernon appeared from out of nowhere to usher you into the backseat.

You don’t remember the ride home. You don’t remember Vernon supporting you by your elbows to keep you from toppling sideways (or backwards) down the stairs. You don’t remember dropping your keys so many times that he’d taken them from you, let you both into the apartment. You don’t remember him helping you remove your heels, or placing a glass of water by your bed.

You do remember waking up somewhere in the bright hours of early morning, still in your tight dress, head pounding and stomach rolling.

Your apartment was empty; you hadn’t expected him to stay, but you’d checked the couch anyway, just to be sure. You drank the whole glass of water, sat on the floor of the shower and let the hot water punish you for your bad decisions, and then crawled back to bed. You texted Vernon - the first time either of you had texted while the sun was up - and apologized, thanked him for getting you home.

You expected an answer as reserved as he normally plays things. You were surprised when, instead, he sent you back, “i think i’d be good at rodeo”, followed quickly by, “rodeoing???”

Frowning, you sent back a line of question marks.

His answer made you laugh through a groan, pressing your face into your pillows in embarrassment - “corralling you was NOT easy… but i did it 🤠”.

Face flushed with embarrassment, you sent another apology.

You sank into quiet after that, unsure if you’d messed things up, made it too real, became a thing of responsibility instead of a thing of attraction. But he’d texted you the next weekend, those three little letters sending relief through your system: wyd?

“Not drinking,” you said, and he wasted no time in sending back, “want to not drink at mine?”

1 yr 9 months ago

come over?

you come here?? ill order ur ride

ok 👍

“You seem weird.”

Vernon kept his expression even, though hearing the words made him want to grimace at being called out so immediately. He’d been spiraling for at least an hour; had at one point gotten so worked up that he’d slammed his laptop on the desk, causing it to show a shuddering blue screen before restarting on him.

If it hadn’t stumbled back to life, he honestly thought he would cry over it.

He might anyway. Fucking shit.

“I’m a weird guy,” he deadpanned instead.

“Weirder than normal,” you volleyed. “Everything okay?”

Vernon sent a dark look over his shoulder, where the textbook he’d been burying himself in still sat open on the page he’d been on when your text had rolled through.

But you weren’t here to help him study. You weren’t here to listen to him complain that he’d failed his last test, that his scholarship rode on this next one. You weren’t here to help him make flashcards, or even to rub his shoulders while he hunched over the textbook.

You were here so he could forget, for just a little while, that he was stressed in the first place. You were here to help him feel something besides the knots in his stomach, so he could hear a voice echoing in his head that wasn’t his own calling him stupid, stupid, stupid. You were here to melt the edges of his anxiety, the way he could have with a shot or a pill, if he were in a different mood.

He replaced the textbook on the flat surface of his desk with your bare ass, leaning over you to brace an arm next to his sleeping laptop. He let your soft cries take up space in his mind, crowding out his internal admonitions, his mind’s noisy cycling through the list of things he should be doing instead. His stomach muscles clenched because your fingertips trailed over them, not because he was imagining having to tell his parents he’d lost his scholarship. He groaned, long and guttural, because you felt like heaven clenching around him, hot and silky and perfect, not because he’d read the same paragraph three times and retained none of it. His fingers found the back of your neck and gripped you hard, holding you in place as his hips snapped into yours, instead of gripping the pen that refused to write answers that made any sense.

It worked; it helped. It was the first time in days that Vernon felt okay. He wished he could last forever - just so that he didn’t have to go back to reality, to life outside of this.

“Car’s on its way,” he told you, after you were cleaned up and dressed again.

You looked up at him from where you were perched on his desk, the same spot where he’d been drilling you only ten minutes ago.

“Thanks,” you said, then looked down at the textbook in your hand. You’d picked it up absently, but now you turned it over, reading the cover.

“This looks hard,” you observed. “Is this why you’re all…” You trailed off and made a face to indicate that Vernon was the human equivalent of a keysmash. You even mimed the keysmashing, in the air in front of you, with both hands.

The smile he gave you was probably sheepish. “Yeah. Test tomorrow. Flunked the last one.”

And he wasn’t sure why he was telling you, but you nodded slowly, eyes still on the cover of the book.

“Sucks,” you said sympathetically, and that was that. You didn’t make it a thing. You gave him a quick smile as you closed his door, and then you were gone.

Vernon took a shower, dissociated in the warm water until it ran cold. Then he heated up some instant noodles, and set everything back up on his desk to try again.

Maybe he should make fucking flashcards.

He was still at it around two in the morning, literally holding his eyelids up to stay awake, when his phone rattled on his keyboard.

good luck tmrw. hwaiting.

1 yr 8 months ago

“Go talk to him!”

“Chan, from the bottom of my heart, fuck off.”

Your best friend pouted at you over the top of his beer. “You haven’t dated in forever.”

You hadn’t needed to. You didn’t want domesticity, nor partnership. And the parts that were left, Vernon had been handling just fine.

But Chan didn’t know that.

“I don’t want to,” you snapped. “I don’t want to talk to that guy, and I don’t want to date someone. I want to drink with my idiot friend Chan. Is that a problem?”

His pout deepened. “No,” he sulked. “But I’m worried about you, noona.”

“Well, don’t be,” you said, softening. “I’m fine. I’m just not after… all that.”

Still looking a little bit like a kicked dog, Chan glanced down at his beer and then back up at you, timid. “Have you been… working on anything lately?”

You wanted to crawl out of your skin. You wanted to evaporate, slip towards the ceiling in tiny droplets of not-matter, vanish as you got too close to the sun.

“Nope,” you said, forcing a breezy tone.

His eyes on you were too knowing. Your clothes all itched, suddenly. “Nothing, since -?”

“Chan,” you said, not even trying to hide the desperation on your face, in your voice, in the way your hands reach out for his. “Please, can we not do the intervention thing right now? I really, really cannot.”

He went quiet. “Fine,” he said finally, and the timid-younger-brother thing was gone, replaced with something almost angry. Frustrated, at least. “Fine. You need a refill?” He downed the last of his beer and reached for your glass.

“No,” you said, pulling it further from his reach. “I need shots. Let’s go.”

The burn in your throat helped you move on, move away from the uncomfortable moment. You relished the slight sting, closed your eyes as you felt the heat make its way to your stomach. Kept them closed, felt everything tight inside you loosen by degrees, until you could breathe again.

You danced, you drank more. You did tequila shots, licking salt off the back of some girl’s hand, both of you giggling even though you never saw her before in your life and probably wouldn’t again once the shots were done.

At some point, you stilled, realizing you hadn’t seen Chan in a while. You rested your elbows against the bar for balance and pulled out your phone.

where are you? you sent.

His answer confused you. told you goodbye almost two hours ago, you fucking mess.

Then, another, do I need to come back and get you?

Shame engulfed you. You were a mess, always a mess. A fuck-up, a drop-out, a waste of potential. The idea of him having to come take care of you, come back to get you and babysit you, made you want to crawl under the sticky floorboards.

no, you sent back. i’m leaving now.

But the shame hovered over your shoulder. Its breath coated your neck in humid huffs, its claws pressed into the flesh of your arms hard enough to leave little crescents, its tail curled around your leg to hold you in place.

You ordered another shot.

The room was dark, and smelled stale, like a window hadn’t been opened in months.

The room was not the bar.

Your body flooded with adrenaline so fast that you had to close your eyes and force an inhale.

You didn’t remember leaving the bar. You didn’t know where you were. You didn’t know how you got here.

The shame was back, tail heavy over your abdomen, but the spikes of fear were worse. You felt around the darkness until you could find your phone. You used its light to look around - you seemed to be alone on someone’s couch. Hand shaking, it took you three tries to open your maps app. You couldn’t get the screen to focus, couldn’t read to see what neighborhood you were in.

The screen swam before you and you clicked it off, closing your eyes and trying to breathe, trying not to cry.

Who could you call?

Not Chan, the shame whispered to you, lifting its head from slumber and opening its beady eyes, yellow across the dark room.

You didn’t have many other choices. You'd found that a symptom of isolation is that fewer people stick around, waiting for you to come out of it, to be normal again. You'd known this, logically, for years. You still couldn't help it when the urge to hunker down and speak to no one but Chan and your mom took over; you couldn't help when your stupid, broken brain told you that you were bothering everyone but to believe it. Don’t call Chan. You closed one eye and turned your screen on again, determined to make it make sense.

It was almost three in the morning.

You knew one person who might still be up.

Vernon’s hello sounded awake, and that’s what made you crack, tears starting to slide down your cheeks without permission.

“I don’t know where I am,” you admitted. The shame gave a hearty huff and lowered its head again. “I can’t - I can’t get a car because - I can’t see the - the buttons aren’t working -”

“Put me on speaker,” he said calmly, and you clung to his voice like the rung of a pool ladder. You didn’t need to climb up, you just needed to hold on.

“Okay,” you said, when you’d managed it.

“Go to your messages,” he said next, and walked you through each step until you’d managed to drop him your location.

“Thank you,” you’d said, tears dry. Everything dry. Even the shame seemed a bit opaque, the numbness strong enough to push away even this least desirable companion as it came creeping in. “Thank you, I’m sorry, I -”

“Stay on the phone with me,” he instructed.

“Vernon, no,” you protested. “You should go to sleep.”

“Wasn’t sleeping anyway,” he said flatly, and there was no room to argue.

You stayed on the line in silence as you hunted around for your shoes, or a coat. You found neither, though somehow your purse was still strapped to you. You did manage to find a front door. You exited the house, closing the door quietly behind you. You still didn’t know whose fucking house it was.

You threw up next to the mailbox. You collapsed into the grass, wet with morning dew under your back. You shivered, coatless and barefoot. Your phone was somewhere in the yard behind you, the call still connected.

Above you, the shame swam between the stars, twisting and undulating amongst the constellations until it made you so dizzy that you rolled over to throw up again.

When you saw headlights, you pushed yourself to sit, trying to breathe. The driver wouldn’t let you in the car if they thought you might be a puke risk. You looked around the ground near where you were sitting, trying to find your phone, realizing belatedly that you were still on the call with Vernon.

“Sorry,” you said, bringing it to your ear again. “I dropped my phone in the yard. The car's here.”

“I know,” he said simply, which didn't make sense, but you were too gone to figure it out.

“I'm gonna hang up now,” you said quietly. “Thank you for helping me.”

He made a noncommittal noise and you ended the call as the car coasted to a stop. You started to rise, to make your way unsteadily to the back door. Instead, the driver’s door opened.

“Vernon,” you complained, horrified that he'd come out at three in the morning to get you. He was supposed to be home, in bed, while a stranger drove you home - a stranger who you paid in money, owed no emotional labor for this effort. A stranger who could see you like this - a wreck, makeup smudged, confused, lost in multiple ways - and never see you again.

Vernon looked you over, then shook his head. He walked around his car and opened the passenger door, looking at you silently, waiting.

Finally, you stalked over.

“Why are you out here with no shoes on?” he asked, voice lower than normal.

“Lost them,” you muttered, dropping into the passenger seat. Your stomach swam again, but it seemed to be empty enough now that all you got was the suffering.

He drove you in silence for a little. Then, at a red light, looked over at you, that expression as blank as ever.

You were starting to learn his tells, though. His fingers tapped on the gear between you.

You’d made him anxious.

“What happened?” he asked, breaking the silence.

“Blacked out,” you said, looking at your knees. “Didn’t mean to. I think some girls invited me along to their place? And then I must have passed out.” The tequila shot girl’s face swam in your mind - this seemed correct.

“Girls?”

You looked at him, surprised. Pieces clicked together.

“You think I called you to get me from a hook-up’s house?” you asked, defensive. “I’m a disaster, but I’m not a bitch.”

He cleared his throat. “I didn’t say that.”

You were both quiet a little longer.

“I’m not… I don’t…” You weren’t sure how to say it. “I know you didn’t ask me not to - and I’m not asking anything from you - but - I don’t…”

“Okay,” he said, stopping your ramble. You looked at him, relieved, so glad he understood. That you didn’t have to say it. “Cool.”

Cool.

If you could without throwing up again, you’d shake your head. He was just so… Vernon.

You were hungover for two days; you even called out of work for one of them. When the headache finally subsided, you told the cat you were never drinking again.

The cat jumped off the bed and trotted away; it might as well have called you a liar.

When the weekend rolled around, you didn’t text Vernon. The shame lay its heavy, clawed foot on top of your phone, leveled you with an even look that said don’t even think about it.

How could you face him again, anyway? Why would he want to see you, after he’d seen the truth so clearly - that you were messy, a mistake, more trouble than any situationship was worth?

Friday night came and went in silence. You were right - he wanted out. You didn’t blame him at all.

Then, Saturday night, a text came through.

you coherent? 😏

You laughed, rolled your eyes, sent back, unfortunately. can we change that?

want to try a different poison tonight?

is that supposed to be flirty?

if you need me to do the hard sell, my offer won’t end you up at a strangers house at 3am

that’s a solid argument

i’ll come get you. need some time?

yeah, gimme 30 min?

cool.

You snorted again. Cool. He was such a dork.

“Thanks for getting me,” you said, when you slid into his passenger seat.

“Can’t let you entertain yourself,” he said, ticking his head to the side like he’d learned his lesson. “You end up without shoes.”

The callback to last weekend made your face heat, and you expected him to lecture you - to tell you to be more careful, that you shouldn’t put yourself in situations like that, that your liver will quit someday.

He didn’t - didn’t bring up anything that happened until -

“Only need me, huh?” he asked, later, pressing so deep into you that you squirm away, delighted when he pulls you back roughly, puts you right back where you’d both rather you be. “No one else does it this good, right?”

“Shut up,” you huffed, half-laughing. “God.” Then he shifted his angle and you repeated yourself, a broken record, god god god, for a whole new reason.

1 yr 7 months ago

Everything was slow and heavy. Vernon’s eyelids lowered and then slid open again, slow… slow. Air army-crawled on elbows and knees into his lungs, slipped out too easily. His blood in his veins trudged; his heartbeat couldn’t whip it into going faster. The ceiling fan above him circled, chasing its tail in an endless loop.

come over.

It must have taken him two hours to type the text. Two hours for it to fly through space - is that how texts send? through space? - to your phone. Two hours for you to get there, to let yourself into his unlocked apartment.

“Took you forever,” he muttered, still watching the ceiling fan.

He was a little out of it, a little bit on another plane. Your hands were cool against his cheeks, thumbs cool as they traced his jawline. For a minute, they felt like the only thing tethering him to earth, keeping him in this room, in this apartment.

“You in there?” Your voice came from far away.

“Yeah.”

He opened his eyes again, and found you hovering above him, light streaming from behind you.

You didn’t mention his red eyes, didn’t tease him for the way his words came out one phoneme at a time. You just pulled your shirt over your head - he may have groaned when the fabric passed your tits, fuck you for showing up without a bra on - and then reached for his hem. Then you lay tight up against him, one hand absently stroking over his chest.

You let him make every first move, let him decide when he’s in his own body again. He kissed you slow, licked into your mouth like it was viscous, marveled in how your skin felt when his hands skated over your back.

It must have been two hours that he kissed you, only that, before finally tugging you to straddle him.

He’d been fucked up when he texted you, but he was feeling clearer now. Clear enough to peel your leggings over your ass, to lift his hips when you tugged on his sweatpants. Clear enough to let out a breath that shuddered embarrassingly when you positioned him at your entrance and sank to the hilt, stilling and tilting to look him in the eyes.

Sometimes Vernon thinks about Giles Corey. He shouldn’t even know about this random piece of American history; he definitely didn’t learn it in school. But sometimes Vernon would procrastinate real work by going to random Wiki articles, and sometimes what he read would stick.

He remembered this one. During the early Salem witch trials, Giles Corey was tried as a witch, but not hung. Instead, he’d been pressed to death - the stones added one by one to the board over his chest. He was supposed to confess.

He’d died that way, had been literally crushed to death, one stone at a time.

His last words had been more weight.

That’s how Vernon felt, most days. One stone at a time, pressing on his ribcage. It was never enough to crush him, just enough to make him feel like he couldn’t take a breath, enough to make him feel like his bones might crack and cave and it’s scary - but they never did. Or, they hadn’t yet.

Every day, Vernon woke up, spit at the feet of whatever church was awaiting his confession, and demanded, more weight.

But the stones had felt heavier, today. Some days were like that. Some days felt like hardly any at all. He tried to remember that - the lighter days would come.

He didn’t feel them at all, now. The only weight on his chest was your hands as you leaned your body forward for leverage, riding him at the pace he set with his hands on your hips, guiding you up and back - slow, slow.

“Fuck,” you groaned, eyes squeezing shut and then opening again, blinking quickly. “It’s too - god, I can feel everything - I don’t know if I can - it’s too -”

“I’ve got you, baby,” he murmured, reaching up to pull you closer, to bring you chest to chest.

“I need you to move,” you whimpered, burying your face in the crook of his neck. “Please, I need you to go faster.”

Vernon swore fiercely as his body obeyed without his permission, feet flattening against his mattress and arms crossing over your back to hold you in place against him. You both gasped, equally shocked at the sudden change.

“More,” you begged. “Please, Vernon.”

More weight, he thought, and then he wasn’t thinking anything because you were wailing, fingers twisting in the sheets next to his shoulders, pulsing around him in dizzying, soul-sucking waves.

Sometimes Vernon thinks being alone will be the stone that kills him.

He almost asked you to stay, after, just to keep it at bay. Almost.

He thought that you might be his new favorite vice.

1 yr, 6 months ago

wyd tonight?

uhhh awkward. i’m. on a date?

why awkward? you’re allowed.

thanks for the permission.

i’m generous, what can i say

dont worry though its nothing. we got set up. its… not going great lol

i understand. hes got tough competition.

Please. 🙄

have fun

im not going home with him. i promise.

prove it.

how?

come here after.

ykw?? i think i will. Next ->

my first svt fic ever!!! thank you so much for being here! i hope you continue to enjoy!

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kuj0goth · 3 months ago

Note

ngl that evil fiddleford au is amazing, i want more of it so much (THOUGH NO PRESSURE). what would happen directly after him getting his memory wiped? like would he be the one to take him home and take care of him or would he try and keep it distanced with a build up to the misery stephen king situation? and what would stan do when he found out?

Hello! Thank you so much for showing interest in my au. It makes me very happy.

Although I’m still working out the kinks of how the story would be put together, I do have some ideas I can share.

I am basing the way Ford acts on the way Stan acted when the same thing happened to him during Weirdmageddon. As such, he has no memory, but his personality is intact, and he has retained his base instincts, muscle memory, and things of the sort. The way I imagine the memory gun to work is that it targets specific cells to kill. Braincells can be regenerated, but as precise as the gun is, there are still side affects to killing off braincells, as you would imagine.

Ford’s head is full of puzzle pieces that don’t quite fit together, stairs that don’t lead anywhere, doors that won’t open. Although he does eventually get better, he is unable to take care of himself properly directly after his memory has been wiped, and Fiddleford takes him back to the shack.

The Misery dynamic is established pretty much immediately, but Ford is not capable of realizing it initially. Fiddleford isolates him to keep him safe and to watch over him, and as a result he becomes a little brainwashed. He has no other source of information and everything he knows and believes is influenced by Fiddleford’s word.

My idea is that he eventually has a realization that something is wrong. It needles at his psyche but he cant click the pieces together and it’s frustrating for a guy like Ford who is desperate to know things, especially in a state like that. Fiddleford is slowly mentally devolving and having outbursts so he starts using those to his advantage to gain information and draw some truth out of her.

As for Stan, I’m still working out the kinks, but I imagine he’s doing some detective work around town to figure out where his brother has gone. I’m currently uncertain if I want him to interact with Fiddleford right off the bat, but I have a lot of ideas of how some of their conversations would go.

#gravity falls #ask #blind eye ford au #evil fiddleford au #bad ending #my art #gravity falls au #stanford pines #fiddleford mcgucket #society of the blind eye

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another-clive-blog · 11 months ago

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How do I stop myself from changing ?

(Crying because I don't want to bother everyone again- Triclive AU, Layton assassin AU, Timeline Hopper Clive AU and Timebug AU by @thiaquiche and @snekatiemainy and @samthecookielord and @pastel-player )

Transcription :

Timebug : I don't care whether it's fair to them or not. It wasn't fair to me. They have it better, they have a purpose, a family, something to go back to. I have nothing left, and soon neither will you.

THC : It doesn't have to be this way ! We can find a solution, find a universe where- where there isn't any of us !!

PGW Clive : Timey.

THC : What ? He has to go somewhere !

PGW Clive : Y-yeah, but...

Timey... You can... understand him ?

THC : Yeah ? You... can't ?

#IT'S BEEN SO LONG SINCE I'VE LAST MADE A COMIC I'M VERY VERY HAPPY RN !!!#I used to make them all the time when I was a child !! =) This one is pretty static and 'same frame' but at least I've made one !!#Anyway guess when this conversation came to me. Yep that's right it's on the train again <3 #My blog should get sponsored by the freaking SNCF mskvfbsjcybd #Funniest part of this was drawing Triclive. 'What are you guys talking about and can we talk about something else ?' lol #clive dove #timeline hopper clive #puzzles gone wrong au #layton assassin au #Timebug #Cool au #My art #my comic #<- YEAH !!!!!

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frozenjokes · 7 days ago

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time loop prison au except scar is the human sentenced to years of solitary confinement and cub and Cleo are the unfortunate kitty cat souls that stumble their way into his den.

tw: cannibalism, self mutilation, blood and gore, brief depictions on skin and hair picking that may be triggering for related disorders, general freak shit

Scar might not be human anymore, but he used to be. It’s unclear what happened to him; really, the people working on his case are trying to figure it out to keep this from ever happening again, but Scar was too destructive to keep on Earth, and maybe more importantly, too unafraid of hurting himself and others to understand what’s going on with him in a timely manner.

They send him to space. Scar used to love space, he did, but it means nothing to him now, not when he’s been deprived of the sacrifices he was surviving off of, the power that motivated him, that made him strong- was it so wrong to eat? Scar doesn’t care much for morals, only the wildly unfair way he’s been treated since he’s been apprehended- Come on! He wasn’t doing anything wrong! If he believes it will score him pity, he’ll claim innocence, though get too close and it’s the last mistake you’ll ever make.

He never once bothered with the puzzle. Not that he would ever have been freed anyway.

Scar smells like rot, pungent and overpowering, and maybe that’s because despite his still beating pulse, the body has been long dead. It bothers him though, it does bother him, but ever-charismatic for the cameras ever-watching, he tries not to let it show. Cruel of the humans, exceedingly cruel not to give him a companion. These types of prisons usually held two or three, didn’t they? He wouldn’t stink so badly if he just had that taste of flesh, any access at all, he was sure of it. He could go back to the way things were before, bright and beautiful and perhaps a little bit blood stained, but for the most part he cleaned up after himself. He wasn’t a monster for heaven’s sake! Or maybe he was. He identified differently depending on the day.

If he hadn’t been thorough with his clean up before, then he certainly was now. He did not like that he smelled. He had to make it go away, he did not know how, but he did have one idea, another desire so critical to his existence that the man who once lived in this body truly did not know how he’d gone so long without it. Overcome with that heady longing, he gives in and feasts on himself. He can not smell the rot over the stench of his own blood. And despite the fact that this does not work, that he is still rotting from the inside out, he finds a new excitement with his own skin. He wants to taste every part of himself.

Scar considers this phase of his prisoner life to be a brief bout of insanity, an age that he has long moved past. He still needs to eat, he needs it, and along with the desire for flesh of others, a lust that still rings unbearably strong in him, his own meat has been added to the menu. However, the way he engages now is far more civilized, more controlled, and when he bleeds out or dies in any number of ways, he knows exactly when and how these deaths will take place, and he never over indulges; if a plan is created, then it will be followed exactly. He makes sure to walk the people on the other side of the cameras through the entire thing first, tells them they’ll need to keep him accountable for his own self inflicted suffering, that he has to be good lest he be punished. He has never allowed himself to be punished before; at the back of his mind he knows they care not for his game, but to have this fact confirmed would ruin all the fun. He maintains his control.

But again, while the gluttony of self mutilation was a temporary relief from the hunger and the smell, he still stank.

Scar was fastidious with his cleanliness, he hated his body, he always felt dirty, and no amount of clawing at his skin would make it any better. Moles, hair, bumps, and imperfections created by past scars, they all had to go, they had to be destroyed. Scar was always bleeding, a constant of his existence, but that was alright, because blood could be cleaned, and while Scar never felt clean, there was a certain relief that fell over him during the act.

Scar did not sleep. He needed to sleep; his body did at least, but never once did Scar lay down to rest, and passing out from exhaustion was no different than dying.

And then the ship would shake from the blast of the explosion, and Scar would be frozen, shaken with the prospect of opportunity.

Two catfolk, ambitious, perhaps to the point of stupidity, but in their defense, they did not know the kinds of prisoners the humans locked up in these high profile cells. In most cases, it would have been reckless to break into one of these ships on purpose, but the danger would not stem explicitly from the inhabitants inside. If you knew this, if you were careful, perhaps the resources would be worth the risk.

Cub was dead within seconds of their first encounter; in future loops Scar might take his time, but he knew well that to keep his new companions, he had to kill them first. Scar was shot four times before Cleo was taken down as well. Scar circled the entire ship, hoping there would be more than two. Perhaps delirious from blood loss, he had been trying to clean up after his own blood trail before he collapsed.

The second round, he was so overcome by his hunger that he failed to kill Cub before moving on to Cleo, feasting over her corpse and shot dead in the act, five or six times before he truly stopped moving. Cub succumbed to his injuries soon after.

And for the next loops, Scar was hunting. He could think of nothing but hunting, eating, so consumed by his need to eat that he did not even realize his quarry were not human, that the flesh he so often tasted but could not swallow was not actually the kind he’d been craving. He persisted, regardless. Relentless. Unyielding. Being shot, even several times by both invading parties, was not enough to stop him from taking at least one of them down, and most days injuring the other.

But over the course of time and many, many loops, the mental strain stays. They all still needed to sleep. Adrenaline and terror kept Cub and Cleo awake, while Scar had gotten his fair share of meat. He was not able to indulge the way he would have liked, yes, but the thrill of a hunt more than made up for this desire, and after years of deprivation on Earth and in prison, Scar was finally, finally full. So one loop, over twenty four hours of combined time being awake, Scar left his bed and collapsed.

Cub and Cleo were waiting for his attack. It never came. With great caution, as they had been ambushed before, they explored the ship and eventually came across him, unconscious on the floor. They shot him dead. He never fought or moved. And so it was over. Without adrenaline keeping them on their feet, the both of them had no mind for anything else but sleep. Over the course of a nightmare so horrific it was difficult to accept as real, both catfolk slept soundly, curled tight around each other on the other side of the room. Scar was still dead when they woke up. Of course he was. But with this came the processing of what had just happened, and where exactly they were trapped.

They had no access to any forms of communication to Earth. No way to call home. In reality, both of them knew the risks of what they had just done, but neither had imagined the consequences to be so severe.

Over the course of their first twenty four hours here, both catfolk had died to a variety of the ship’s many traps, mostly trying to escape Scar. But even at their most careful, they were not used to this environment. Cub, headstrong and sometimes careless because of it, triggered the trap that killed both of them. Perhaps the two of them would have been a little more aware of their surroundings if they were not glued to each other’s side, but alas. What’s done is done.

In stark terror, they woke up in the next loop, waiting for Scar to come to them. There was a certain amount of learned helplessness here, having shot a man seemingly immune to bullets so many times, that neither cat really expected their means of defense to work. Maybe that’s why when their guards were finally down, when they were finally resigned to setting out through the ship to look for the human that plagued their new life, they only froze when the left door opened, and Scar poked his head through.

“Hello :3,” he said, perfectly friendly. And then they shot him dead. Over the next couple weeks, months even, this was how things went. Long enough at least that Cub and Cleo were beginning to feel the strain of being trapped here, wanting to know what had changed, why this stranger, previously monstrous, had been nothing but friendly over the past.. seven or eight times they killed him. Clearly he did not hold grudges.

Scar could not have been more delighted not to be shot dead on sight! What polite gentlemen these aliens were, he had never met an alien before, though he did have a cat once, before.. Well, no use dwelling. The catfolk would get no opportunity to speak or ask questions, Scar talking nonstop as he declared a grand tour. He would not even stop to breathe, almost as if he forgot he needed to, wheezing through the words he couldn’t quite force out until he was literally blue in the face, then was forced to stop, taking a few seconds to breathe. If Cub or Cleo said anything during these break periods, Scar would deftly ignore them, continuing on as if no one had spoken. There would be no getting through to him, not this loop at least, not before he turned on Cub in the middle of his speech, stopping suddenly for the more appealing venture of eating a man alive. Scar did not stop trying until he was physically unable, his head and by extension jaw blown clean off. Cub did not survive this encounter, leaving Cleo alone.

And so more loops pass in a similar fashion as before, shooting Scar dead the moment he showed his face, though, it was obvious by now that if he intended on hurting them from the beginning, he would not die so easily.

When Scar was first given the opportunity to speak, neither Cub nor Cleo were expecting an apology.

“It’s been a while..” Scar had shrugged, waving a hand dismissively, “They’re not kind to me like you are back on Earth. I got nothing. Nothing to eat, no one to talk to.. This has all been so cathartic!” And it surely was, wasn’t it.

Better to keep Scar dead than alive, a dead Scar was the only good decision to do with him that the catfolk could have made, but alas, with an alive Scar there was a certain kind of hope, a kindled flame that might draw light to the dark of their hopeless situation. Scar could help them, if he wanted to. He could give them information, tell them anything that might lessen the burden of this situation, tell them how long they were going to be stuck here.

Scar was uninterested in those kinds of questions, nor was he the kind of man to give anything away for free.

As time and loops passed, Scar was less sporadic, less unpredictable, and would go full days without attempting to dismember one or both catfolk. When he wasn’t violent, he was truly amiable, curious; he wanted to know things, know about their lives, domestic habits, he wanted stories, and really it did start to seem like he wanted the normalcy of their lives for himself, though he couldn’t quite grasp it. There seemed to be a separation from the Scar that just wanted to talk for hours about the benign, and the Scar that tore out their still beating hearts, devouring everything as one or both watched.

But there was no difference. If there was ever a man in that body, the smell of rot that exuded from his skin should have been enough of a tell that he was long dead.

Easier, perhaps, to go blind to the smell. To excuse small instances of cruelty, growing larger every passing day. What do you do if for a fraction of the information you’ve been yearning for, he asks for your flesh? He asks you to watch, he asks your companion to stand by while you take it. What if he asks you to eat each other? Surely it’d be worth it for a call home, right? Scar sure thinks this is reasonable, and he’s been so kind this past week, hasn’t he.

You grow to fear those long periods of peace. You know he’s waiting to ask for something bigger, something worse, something you know that one day, you won’t come back from.

When Cleo is dead, killed and consumed by your hand, he asks for your body. He knows his is rotting, that he can’t stay here much longer, not after his prison sentence is over. He needs a new host. He’d like it to be you.

What if he told you he could bring you home? If in exchange for your life, he could ensure Cleo’s was preserved. People don’t last very long outside of these prisons.. and after all the horrible things you’ve done up here, would you be able to live with yourself anyway? Would Cleo?

I can take it all away. I can make sure you both survive.

And of course you want her to survive. Of course you do. It was you who suggested they go along with Scar’s demands in the first place, pull those pieces of information from his teeth, it was so reasonable at first, not anything he wouldn’t have taken anyway.

It was you who suggested she steal from one of these human prisons with you. It was you who got her into this mess. You made her a monster right beside you. You wanted her to survive.

So of course you accepted. Was there ever another option?

#tw: cannibalism #self mutalition #hermitcraft #hermitfic #tw: violence #gtws #goodtimeswithscar #cubfan135 #zombiecleo #sclub #convex #vex scar #possession #bad things.#timeloopprisonau

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