#same for cho 😭😭

[midnight--sadness]

they are about to take gihun to paris 🫶

[octoir]

in the politest way possible, I disagree!

1a. Let’s go back and talk about SPEW.

It’s in their nature ter look after humans, that’s what they like, see? Yeh’d be makin’ ‘em unhappy ter take away their work, an’ insultin’ ‘em if yeh tried ter pay ‘em.

Wow. How incredibly annoying, Hermione is, for trying to free Elves when they don’t even want to be freed! How desperate, how cross, how naive and stuck-up she is. Doesn’t she know how to actually help house elves? Doesn’t she know that they actually like being mistreated? (what a weird parallel between SPEW and liberalism, that must just be coincidence)

Throughout GoF, Hermione and Ron bicker back and forth about SPEW. Ron finds it hilarious and mocks her relentlessly. What about Harry? What does he think? We don’t know. It’s oddly absent of opinion, except for moments like this,

“Yeah, right,” said Harry. He took a swig of butterbeer under his cloak. “Hermione, when are you going to give up on this spew stuff?”

when he asks when she’ll give up, like an exasperated parent asking their child when they’ll give up on their new phase, as if trying to abolish slavery can be portrayed as a ‘phase.’

I don’t think Harry is necessarily internally moralistic at all. He seems to depend on other people telling him what the right opinion is for marginalized groups, otherwise, he doesn’t care much for politics. Centaurs? Goblins? Meh. They’re not people, after all.

1b. I also think Harry isn’t really capable of moral nuance— for example, Marietta. Harry is absolutely furious at her. Cho tries to explain that Marietta’s mother was in danger of losing her job at the Ministry, yet Harry still just does not care, claiming she’s an “unforgivable traitor.” He even describes her (canonically) permanent disfigurement as “brilliant.”

And this doesn’t change. I know everyone hates the epilogue— fuck it, I’m citing it. He names one of his kids after Dumbledore and Snape. What does naming a child mean?

In my experience, people usually name their children after people or things they greatly like or admire (think of Grace, Hope, Noah, etc) as a form of hope that their children have similar qualities. Yikes!

Dumbledore and Snape are both teenagers trapped in adult bodies, unable to emotionally mature beyond key moments in their formative years (Ariana/Grindelwald, Lily, etc) and thus absolutely fuck Harry and the Trio over in almost laughably horrible ways. But Harry still respects them, feels positively towards them, names his son after them. There’s no moral nuance here. They’re not even morally grey characters— it feels like all of Dumbledore and Snape’s actions have been, somewhat ironically, excused for the “Greater Good,” excused for what they did in the end.

2. okay…so he calls TMR handsome. Euphemia’s point, however, was that Harry “called people ugly with no remorse.” I’m not dying on this hill, but there are a few quotes that I think are pretty interesting:

“Dudley looked a lot like Uncle Vernon. He had a large pink face, not much neck, small, watery blue eyes, and thick blond hair that lay smoothly on his thick, fat head.”

“Dudley hitched up his trousers, which were slipping down his fat bottom.”

“The lighted dial of Dudley’s watch, which was dangling over the edge of the sofa on his fat wrist…”

“…and watching Dudley tearing out of the room as fast as his fat legs would carry him.”

“Behind him walked a Slytherin girl who reminded Harry of a picture he’d seen in Holidays with Hags. She was large and square and her heavy jaw jutted aggressively.” (Millicent Bulstrode)

“Her hair was set in elaborate and curiously rigid curls that contrasted oddly with her heavy-jawed face.” (Rita Skeeter)

“‘How are you?’ she said, standing up and holding out one of her large, mannish hands to Dumbledore.” (Rita Skeeter)

“Once or twice she had turned squatly in her seat to look at him, her wide toad’s mouth stretched in what he thought had been a gloating smile.” (Umbridge)

“‘Thank you very much, Professor.’ ‘You’re a good boy,’ said Professor Slughorn, tears trickling down his fat cheeks into his walrus mustache.”

A particular scene:

"Oh yeah, you were staying with them this summer, weren't you, Potter?" sneered Malfoy. "So tell me, is his mother really that porky, or is it just the picture?"

"You know your mother, Malfoy?" said Harry — both he and Hermione had grabbed the back of Ron's robes to stop him from launching himself at Malfoy — "that expression she's got, like she's got dung under her nose? Has she always looked like that, or was it just because you were with her?"

Malfoy's pale face went slightly pink. “Don’t you dare insult my mother, Potter.”

"Keep your fat mouth shut, then," said Harry, turning away.

Very thought-provoking, awfully similar situations. I wonder what the key difference is 🤷

3. Okay, Draco. I’ll give you that— he did try to cast the cruciatus. However, I’m not trying to focus on whether or not that was justified. Justified or not, it gets brushed off way, way too easily. He does feel regret…but I don’t think it’s genuine, long-term regret. He tells Hermione that he does genuinely feel bad about it…

He was having a bad enough time without Hermione lecturing him; the looks on the Gryffindor team’s faces when he had told them he would not be able to play on Saturday had been the worst punishment of all. He could feel Ginny’s eyes on him now but did not meet them; he did not want to see disappointment or anger there. He had just told her that she would be playing Seeker on Saturday and that Dean would be rejoining the team as Chaser in her place. Perhaps, if they won, Ginny and Dean would make up during the post-match euphoria. … The thought went through Harry like an icy knife. …

But damn if his internal dialogue doesn’t reveal something different. And this is taken from literally the moment before he says that. Seriously, check page 594.

Everything just gets glossed over in favor of the Prince, of the shock of Snape as the Prince, and Harry’s attempted murder just gets…quietly hushed up. He doesn’t get expelled, he doesn’t even have to say sorry— maybe he serves a few detentions, but what the fuck is a few detentions in the face of a life? Harry has literally almost MURDERED someone and yet he faces ZERO consequences and appears to experience NO regret (which, hm, like father like son right? LMFAO)

4. Carrow. Oh, Carrow. The cruciatus curse is interesting.

“Never used an Unforgivable Curse before, have you, boy?” she yelled. She had abandoned her baby voice now. “You need to mean them, Potter! You need to really want to cause pain - to enjoy it - righteous anger won’t hurt me for long…

Harry wanted to cause pain. Not just pain— unimaginable, excruciating pain, pain that he’s personally experienced. And he didn’t have to just want to cause pain—he also had to enjoy it. You can’t dismiss it as a moral outburst of “righteous anger,” because wanting to cause pain so severe it has literally driven people into insanity is not something you push past and sweep under the bed.

You mention that what sets Harry apart from someone like LV is his forgiving nature. Frankly, I think what sets him apart is that he’s been groomed. His attempted suicide shouldn’t be seen as this awe-inspiring, tear-jerking thing. It should be seen as what it really is— a culmination of (intentional or not) 7 years of consistently rewarded self-sacrificial behavior by literally every adult in his life.

it's so funny to me when harry's portrayed as a saint in tomarry fics. like, i get it, compared to tom, harry is a saint, but just because of that, it doesn't mean he's the nicest, purest little bean.

harry's literally fatphobic, unless it's towards people he likes. he calls people ugly with no remorse and he's side-eyeing someone 90% of the time.

he's against hermione's dedication to at least try and free the elves (which is basically being neutral on slave labour)

he idolises questionable people (dumbledore and snape)

he uses the cruciatus successfully. he nearly kills someone and barely feels any remorse for it (draco in hbp)

no matter how much you want to believe, his moral compass isn't the best

[sexy-mok]

[waloeders]

thinkin bout toji n cho gettin involved in my regular life like dnd or whatever aeuegegegehegeh

[astraystayyh]

An eye for an eye.

assassin!hyunjin x journalist!yn. slow burn. suggestive and angsty at times. she/her pronouns. 7.4k.

it is perhaps the most decisive night of your life. what are the odds that at the same time and place, it happens to be hyunjin’s too?

warnings: mention of alcohol, guns, bruises and injuries. brief talks of grief.

a.n: this is prompted by how hot villain hyunjin looks in the ate era 😭 it was supposed to be a drabble and i didn’t plan on it to be this long.. but i hope you’ll enjoy reading tehee it’s different from anything i’ve ever written so please feedback would be so appreciated,, muah muah 😘❣️

A ruby red lipstick. 

Your first childhood dream was to become a journalist, but not the complacent, obedient kind. You wanted to shed light on uncovered events, dig into the raw truth with your claws, and hold it up for the entire world to witness. You craved justice. You never believed in letting things flow their way, like a current that morphs into a torrent, destroying everything in its path.

No, you were a dam, forcing the water to change its trajectory. After all, you have always believed that all it took for change to happen was a trigger, a single flicker that would in turn burst into flames.

You wished to be it.

It was hard to grow into this specific kind of journalist, though. Not because you lacked drive, passion, or discipline. Especially not because you weren’t curious enough, brave enough. You were Seoul Press’s youngest and brightest reporter, after all.

But in a highly competitive field, you still needed your big story, your breakthrough which would put you on the radar of esteemed awards that all journalists venerate. Though you deemed it much easier to obtain a Pulitzer than to squelch your heart’s quest for truth, justice, and most importantly, in an unpredictable curb that life threw at you— revenge.

Your second childhood dream was to put on ruby red lipstick. Your thirteen-year-old self deemed it the ultimate show of power and confidence, each time you saw your aunt wearing one to her most important meetings. You dreamed of the day you could put it on as well, on your way to uncover the truth. 

And tonight, as you applied your ruby lipstick precisely, gliding the vibrant color across your lips, you felt nerves tighten like thorny vines in your stomach, puncturing your tender skin and leaving you a bloodied mess from within. 

Tonight, in your black gown and your ruby lipstick, in San Heo’s mansion, your country’s most prominent presidential candidate, and the man who ruined your life, it seemed like you were about to achieve both dreams at once.

… 

The clock hand points nine on Hyunjin’s Tank Louis Cartier watch. He throws a fleeting glance at the Victorian watch, before eyeing the people mingling at San Heo’s party. 

He knows all of the guests, memorized their faces and their habits. He knows the school where they drop off their kids and what bar they frequent every Sunday. He memorized their mannerisms and antics, knows what set them off and what did not.

This is the fruit of two years of work, after all.

He knows exactly why everyone is here, tonight particularly. Three politicians’ families and friends gathered as a show of power, to prove that they weren’t afraid of whoever’s been forcing politicians to come clean about their crimes for the past three months.

In the least glamorous manner, at that too, to put it delicately—ten bloodied tapes sent to the country’s most prominent media channels, where ministers and heads of multinationals are bound by ropes to a chair, recalling their most heinous crimes: money laundering and embezzlement for most, theft and murder for some.

The latter is Jung Cho’s case, San’s most successful competitor for the presidency, who has also mysteriously vanished from the police’s grasp since the release of his tape. No one can get a hold of poor Jung Cho anymore. 

Hyunjin smirks lightly to himself. His knuckles seem to have healed well since he last dislocated Jung Cho’s jaw. Well, that was before he shot him through the roof of his mouth.

The golden cuffs of Hyunjin’s Versace blazer reflect the light of the dangling crystal chandeliers, and he runs a weary hand through his black locks. He never chose to gel them back; he wasn’t one for structure, preferring the feeling of his silky strands brushing against his fingers. 

His eyes catch those of San’s across the room, who tips his glass of whiskey towards Hyunjin—a job well done, he reads in San’s stare. Hyunjin raises his red wine back, before settling it across the table once more.

It is a boring half an hour that awaits Hyunjin.

That is until he sees you.

You weren’t here two minutes ago, Hyunjin is sure of this. And, judging by the way you are leisurely sipping your sparkling water, your eyes gliding across the room in search of someone in particular, you had just stepped foot into the party.

Fashionably late, if he were to add.

But that is none of Hyunjin’s concern. What intrigues him the most is that your face isn’t familiar to him. That isn’t normal.

You weren’t supposed to be here, then.

Who are you?

As if hearing his question, your gaze locks onto his. He cocks an eyebrow at you; you mirror the gesture like clockwork.

Thus ensues an intense game of eye contact. You don’t break away from his gaze until two minutes later, a light scoff escaping your lips that he can discern even from afar. You then turn to look at San, your eyes morphing into something fiercer, more determined— a sniper finally locking eyes on its target.

Hyunjin feels a slight headache growing at the base of his temple. He downs his drink, before taking long strides towards you.

It’s official, you’re going to be his nuisance for the night.

27 minutes.

“Care to dance?” Hyunjin inquires as he materializes before you, a hand extended towards your body.

“Pardon?”

“A dance? To the lovely music we are hearing right now?” 

“I know what you mean,” you roll your eyes, leaning your body against the chair right next to you. Hyunjin’s eyes glaze over your legs peeking through the high slit of your dress. Had it been another setting, the sight of your black sheer tights would have made this night turn much differently.

Your voice dispels his thoughts like morning fog. “I mean why are you asking me?”

“Because I’m bored.”

“How flattering,” you grin sarcastically and Hyunjin feels the smallest urge to return your smile, although he knows it isn’t genuine.

“I know. Shall we?”

Your gaze flees to San once again, seemingly debating something in your head before finally sighing.

In the few seconds of scrutiny you consecrate to his boss, Hyunjin’s gaze lingers on your bright red lipstick, and the way you tuck your lip slightly into your mouth as you ponder.

A beautiful nuisance, he corrects himself.

“Fine,” You place your manicured hand in his in response.

“What’s your name?” he asks, as he settles one hand atop your waist. The fabric of your black dress is too thin, he can feel the heat emanating from your body seeping through his palm.

Focus. You need to discover who she is.

“Julia,” your hand settles atop his shoulder, while the other entwines with his. “And you?”

“Sam. What are you doing here?” he quickly inquires.

You shake your head slightly, gliding your hand from the base of his neck to the end of his shoulder.

“Isn’t it my turn to ask you a question?”

Hyunjin tilts his head curiously at you, before smirking slightly— “Yes ma’am.”

“What do you work for?”

“I’m Mr. Heo’s political adviser.”

“You’re quite young, though,” you note.

“I know.”

“And I don’t see you by his side a lot.”

“I work in the background, mostly. I don’t do well with the cameras.” He spins you around, picking up speed as the orchestra picks up the violin. “How do you know Mr. Heo?”

“I’m Kang’s niece, you know, Mr. Heo’s economic adviser? Uncle Kang is ill, and my father is out of the country so both of them chose not to come.”

Hyunjin’s memory faintly brushes off Kang’s single niece, completing her architectural studies in Paris’ Sorbonne. 

“C’est beau à Paris?” Is it beautiful in Paris?

You don’t even blink— “Même magnifique, tu devrais visiter.” Marvelous even, you should visit. 

Checks out.

“I’ll hold you on to that offer,” he says, before spinning you around, your chest settling across his back. Hyunjin ignores how his heart skips a singular beat at your proximity.

“So, what are you doing here?” he asks, his lips tantalizingly close to the shell of your ear. He watches as your chest rises once before your airy voice floods his ear.

“Networking, though you didn’t quite allow me to speak to anyone but you,” you tease slightly.

“I fail to see what an architect has to do with politicians,” he muses, as he sways you gently from left to right.

“I want to oversee the building of Jamsil Sports Complex.”

“So you’re using your father for work connections?” he taunts and you swivel around, placing both your hands on his shoulders before interlinking your fingers behind his neck, caging him within the notes of your perfume.

“Is it a crime?” your voice is airy, too airy, everything you say sounds rehearsed, you don’t seem intimidated by him, by this setting, as opposed to how a newly graduated student, one who grew up away from her father’s world should.

“Depends on your definition,” he counters.

“Do you regard it as such?”

Hyunjin’s gaze flickers all over yours. He senses something urgent in your gaze, as if you are pushing for more, beyond what this simple question entails.

When he remains quiet for a tad too long, you let your hands drop by your body, taking a step away from him.

“I need to go,” you say. He grabs your wrist instantly. “Where to?”

“Bathroom.” And with that, you quickly turn around and walk away, leaving behind notes of your floral perfume and ghosts of your ruby lips.

Hyunjin steals a glance at his clock. 09:13 p.m.

He drags a hand across his forehead wearily. He won’t let you ruin this night.

17 minutes. 

You are washing your hands obsessively in the bathroom, lost in thought as you gaze at your reflection, all blurry from your unfocused eyes. You only turn off the water once your skin starts to sting from the force of your touch. 

The orange-scented soap doesn’t seem to get rid of the stench of blood. 

A week ago. 

“I don't understand your obsession with Mr. Heo,” Christopher Bang calmly removed his glasses, placing them next to the shiny placate reading ‘Editor in Chief of Seoul Press’.

“He is corrupt.”

“As all politicians are,” he spoke matter of factly, and it angered you how unfazed he seemed before your, you admit, far-fetched request. 

“You don’t understand, sir. He’s different.”

“Did he do something to you?” Chris asked, leaning back against his chair. You felt exposed all of a sudden, like a flower left bare without its stem. 

“Would my answer change anything?” You inquired tentatively. 

“It would explain many things, yes actually,” he got up from his chair, before sitting on the one right across from you. “You are a talented journalist, Yn.”

“Thank you—“

“But you are utilizing the company’s resources to conduct your personal investigation on San Heo.” 

He knew. 

“You’ve been working on his case from the day you joined our media. Which was exactly 389 days ago. I know that you’ve managed to uncover quite some dirt, one that would make an explosive case if you get more information. That’s why I turned a blind eye to everything you did because I trust your skills and integrity.” 

You remained silent.

“But now, you’re asking me to completely disregard my deontology by finding a way for you to break into Mr. Heo’s mansion. That is a crime.”

“Not break in. I want an invite to his party, it is the first time he organized one in his home, probably the last time, it is my only chance to—”

“Details,” he waves a hand disinterestedly in the air, cutting you off. “Your intentions aren’t to mingle with politicians, it is to dig in his office and find something of substance. While I admire the lengths of what you want to go through, I must stop you here.” He leveled his eyes with yours. “This can land you in jail, he is the most important man in our country right now.”

“What if I tell you he did something to me, that he ruined my life? Would you help me then?” your voice was hoarse, tears pricked your eyes as you tried your best not to avert your gaze. You hated displays of weakness, despised them even more in professional settings. 

“What did he do?” 

You bristled at the question, ugly memories flashing before your eyes like a blinding light, your body begging you to flee away from this question and the heavy response it entailed.

Still, you spoke. 

Christopher remained silent as you recalled what happened on your doomsday, the night in which your world ceased to spin, and simultaneously, the reason why you joined his company, to begin with. When your sniffles subsided a few minutes later, he gently handed you a napkin, a silent invitation to wipe away the tears that had escaped.

He sighed deeply, running a hand through his weary face before finally speaking. 

“I’ll give you the invite tomorrow. Say that you are Kang’s niece, her name is Julia. She went to Paris for architectural studies, and that you are back for a vacation. Kang is ill these days, he won’t attend the party, and his brother is out of the country, no one will question you.”

“How do you know this?” 

“Because I know them,” he toyed with his lower lip lightly before a tiny smile drew upon it. “An eye for an eye, right? I’m Kang’s cousin. I changed my last name because I didn’t wish to deal with them anymore.” 

“So Bhang isn’t your real last name?”

“No.” He ran his thumb across his lower lip, seemingly debating adding something. “San’s office is on the far end of the third floor.” 

You heaved a sigh of relief. 

“Thank you.” 

“Don’t get yourself killed.”

13 minutes. 

It was one thing to stare at photographs of San seared behind your reddened eyelids or to stand at the far end of his press conferences. It was another to step foot into his mansion, to stand amidst powerful people who are capable of ruining your life had they known of your motives. 

But you didn’t have time to dwell on your personal feelings. Fear, nerves, all of those feeble emotions pale before the chance you have today. So, you nod at your reflection in the mirror, count to three in your head, and finally head out of the bathroom. 

“Five minutes, were you crying?” Sam’s bored voice startles you as soon as you set foot outside. He’s leaning on the wall across from the door, hands deep into the pockets of his suit.

Not again. 

“I know that I’m very pretty but don’t you have better things to do than to follow me?” you ask, pausing right in front of him. 

“I’m not following you, I just happen to be particularly fond of the architecture of this corridor,” he jokes and you ignore his words, walking past him with a renowned determination. He pushes himself off the wall, only to grasp your wrist once again, spinning you around until you’re facing him. 

He chuckles softly, tilting his head to the side. His icy blue contacts pierce through your skin like a puncture needle.  “You know, I’m curious, Julia. You seemed very eager to get away from me.”

You take a step forward, closing the distance between you two. “Have you considered that I found your company utterly boring?”

“You wound me,” he places a hand on his heart, any trace of humor absent from his voice. His grip tightens on your wrist for a millisecond. A warning. “I need you to leave.” 

“I’m sorry?” 

“I’m serious. You shouldn’t be here tonight.”

“And why should I listen to you?” you challenge and his eyes darken further. 

“I can’t tell you.”

“Then let me go,” you mutter, slipping your hand away from his grasp. 

“Julia,” he says sternly, pulling you back till your back is against the wall, his hands rooted on either side of your body. 

It is a dimly lit hallway, and the sound of the orchestra barely reaches you. Your worry intermingles with a new kind of nerves, all orchestrated by his proximity, and the way his gaze brushes against your body like a skilled painter. 

“I’m not joking, leave.” His voice is much softer when he adds, “It’s for your own good. What will happen later doesn’t concern you.”

He knows something that you don’t know, something that, from his tone, none of the guests are aware of. You see something human in his eyes, in the slight crease doting his eyebrows. He seems genuinely worried for the innocent civilian he thinks you are. 

Your eyes turn to look at his hand near your head, only to notice his faintly bruised knuckles, shades of purple and green doting a delicate porcelain skin. They have healed well, then. 

Should you unearth the memory from two weeks ago— pleas for mercy, a deafening gunshot, and an excruciating silence afterward, the quiet after the murder that you remember most? 

Then, another scene rings in your head like bells of an ancient church— a bruised hand brushing against your own in an art gallery from two days ago, raven locks, and familiar, melancholy-tinted eyes. 

Could it be? 

Your voice turns sweet, tender, “should I trust you for the night?” your thumb brushes against the skin underneath his eye, wiping away the concealer you knew you spotted.

There it is, the eye mole you thought he covered. 

It clicks in your mind in an instant, pieces of a puzzle falling into place, there are still a few missing but you manage to grasp the bigger picture.

If he’s not letting you go then he could be of good use. 

What other choice do you have but to gamble with a killer? 

Your sharp nails drag across the nape of his neck, before settling right beneath his jaw. You mimic a gun, his eyes narrow in response.

“Is this how you killed Jung Cho, Hyunjin?” 

You feel a cold barrel instantly press against your stomach. “Police officer?” he asks. 

“No.”

“Journalist ?”

“Yes,” you slowly mutter.

“What’s your name?”

“I don’t wish to tell you.” The gun only presses further onto your skin. You feel a cold bead of sweat roll down your exposed spine. 

Breathe. 

“It’s Yn.”

“What do you know?”

“It’d be easier for me to talk if you removed the gun,” you smile lightly and Hyunjin only leans further, a distance as thin as a blade between you both.

“Speak.”

“You killed the only candidate that stood a chance in front of San. You drove him to the empty deposit near Inwangsan Mountain, tortured him for three days, filmed his confessions, and then sent them to many media outlets. Ours included. I know it because I followed you.” 

“Why did you follow me?” he questions. Your eyes flee to the end of the corridor where an impossible staircase sits. You are wasting your time. 

“Because I am investigating San. And through following him I ended up getting to know you. You are different from everyone he meets. Very secretive. So I figured it’d be worth a shot following you too,” you explain as calmly as you can. You’re sure the barrel of the gun will leave a bruise on your skin. 

“And why didn’t you write a piece about me? Everyone is dying to know who I am.”

“I have, I just haven’t released it. If I don’t come back home in an hour my head chef will post the video of you murdering Mr. Cho on every SNS. The public loves you for what you’re doing. But the politicians will come together to kill you. They have a price on your head. You are threatening everything they ever built.” 

Hyunjin drags his gun up your stomach slowly, trails it across your collarbones before it settles on your jaw. 

“I could kill you too, right now.” His tone is cold, evil. Very different from the man who asked you to dance. You know that I can.” 

“My death would only sign yours.”

Hyunjin’s forehead rests on the wall right next to your head. You can hear him inhale deeply, hear the gears turning in his head. “Fuck, you are driving me crazy.”

He drops the gun and takes a step back. “Why didn’t you expose me?”

“You are not the one that matters to me.” 

“What do you want from me then?” 

“Three minutes. Open San’s office, and then I’ll go. No one will ever know of your identity.” 

He remains silent. 

“Hyunjin, please.” 

“Fuck, fine. But whatever happens next you’ll have to trust me, okay?” his hands settle on your shoulder, his eyes leveling with yours, “if you’re not leaving then you’ll have to trust me enough, for tonight.” 

8 minutes. 

“After you,” Hyunjin bows slightly as he opens the door to Heo’s office. You step in first, and he steals a quick glance behind him—no one’s here, for now.

“That saved me the hassle of breaking the door.”

“You know how to do that?” he asks, slightly impressed.

“One of my hobbies,” you shrug before walking directly to the desk. Hyunjin leans against the wall, watching as you lift your dress slightly, revealing a small packet tucked into your garter. The sight drives Hyunjin a little crazy, and he closes his eyes for a second.

He really, really wishes he hadn’t met you here tonight.

You take out a listening device, tapping the bottom of the desk until you find a suitable spot, and then you stick it in place.

“Another one of your hobbies?” he smirks.

You giggle. “Mm, aren’t I the most fun?”

“You are,” his eyes drag across your figure, and he notices a slight falter in your posture, “the most beautiful too.”

You blink, and he’s suddenly in front of you, trapping you between the auburn desk and his toned body. You don’t seem intimidated, placing a palm on his chest as you tilt your head to the side. 

“Aren’t you curious why I’m going after San?”

“No, he angers a lot of people.” His thumb caresses your cheek, a touch so soft in contrast to his next words. “A lot of people fantasize about his death.”

“Are you one of them?” you question, cocking an eyebrow at him.

“Right now, all I’m fantasizing about is you.” His voice is husky, and he finds it comes out much easier when he actually likes the person he’s attempting to seduce. 

It takes you a few seconds to speak again. “Is that so?”

“Mm, let’s dance.”

“Didn’t we dance downstairs?”

“That was Sam and Julia dancing,” he says as he entwines his fingers with yours. “You see, Hyunjin is a different kind of dancer.” His hand presses against your back, snaking against your bare skin. “Can I pull you closer?” he asks, and you simply nod, eyes fleeting widely all over his face. 

His chest presses to yours, so close he’s sure your hearts are syncing with one another, his inhales alternating with your exhales. 

“Yn,” he whispers your name, as you look up at him through the curve of your eyelashes.  

“Yes, Hyunjin?” His name sounds soft as it stumbles from your ruby lips, innocent from all the blood that drenches his soul.

“I like the way you say my name.” He glances at his watch above your head. 9:57.

“Hyunjin,” you repeat, as your hand drags up his neck, grabbing a fistful of his hair and gently dragging it backward, exposing his enticing neck to you. “You are always looking at your watch, what are you waiting for?”

He chuckles faintly, grabbing both your hands and spinning you around till his chin rests on the small of your shoulder. “You’re perceptive,” he mutters, as his fingers drag down your bare arms. “But so am I,” he says coldly as he grabs both your hands, bringing them behind your back. “Look, your hands are shaking just from my proximity. I don’t think you have it in you to film me killing Jung Cho. I don’t think you have it in you to watch me torture someone for three days.”

Click. Cold metal wraps around your wrist in an instant, handcuffing you to the leg of the table before which you’re standing. 

“I think you lied to me, Yn. I don’t like being lied to.”

“What are you doing?” you ask disoriented, panic spilling from your being like an overflowing cup.

Hyunjin pays you no mind, taking out his phone and dialing a number. “Boss, we have a problem. I caught a journalist trying to get into your room,” he taps his chin slowly as he looks at you. “No, no need for security. Just come alone. Don’t alarm the guests.”

2 minutes

“Are you serious?” you ask as soon as he hangs up, a prominent lump in your throat. “You told me to trust you.”

“Did I say I was worth that trust?” he pouts, seemingly mocking the vulnerable ordeal you found yourself in. 

A loud chuckle escapes your lips, your head thrown back as if before a hilarious spectacle of sorts. Hyunjin frowns, crossing his arms in front of his chest as your giggles slowly quiet down. 

“You’re a peculiar person, aren’t you Hyunjin? You need to hide your identity but you crave normalcy still, so you open your art gallery. You go to crazy lengths to cover your moles and wear contacts because you wish for people to look at you with admiration in their eyes, kindness. But you don’t deserve it.” There is a fire lit in your eyes, flames latching into his black suit and burning his already scarred skin. “You’ll always be as evil as them.” 

Hyunjin doesn’t respond for a while, his eyes simply softening at your words.

“I know,” he whispers. 

“Who’s this?” San’s voice booms loudly as he sets foot into the office. Hyunjin’s eyes break apart from your figure to look at San, bowing slightly to greet him. 

“Julia, she infiltrated the party,” Hyunjin explains, stealthily locking the door behind San. “She’s been investigating you for quite some time now. And… She knows about the murders.”

“Mm, she’s clever. Should we hire her?” San jokes and Hyunjin smiles politely, dragging his eyes over your face. You simply roll your eyes, seemingly more bored than scared. 

Cute. 

“Anyways,” Heo stares at you for a fleeting second before tapping Hyunjin’s shoulder. “She looks easy to kill. Just get rid of her. But don’t stain my carpet though, it's expensive.”

“Sure thing,” Hyunjin nods, taking out his gun and pointing it at your temple. He steals a final look at his watch— 9:30 p.m. he reads. 

Time’s up. 

“You didn’t think I’d let you go?” Hyunjin mocks, cocking his head at you. In a split second, a bullet ricochets loudly, but not at you. It grazes San’s ear, making him pause near the door, his back towards you both. 

“Right boss?” Hyunjin’s tone is slightly whiny, annoying is the best way to describe it. You can hear police sirens blare loudly outside, see the red and blue hues reflect off the window. Loud shouts erupt downstairs, Hyunjin leisurely reloads his gun, one hand deep into his pocket, San’s posture slightly falters, his fingers digging into the skin of his palm. 

“Do you hear that Heo? Your mansion is surrounded. All your filthy dirt is exposed. The police officers are arresting everyone downstairs right now. And they’re coming for you. The man of the hour.” Hyunjin makes a show of curtsying deeply. You stifle a giggle at his theatrics.

“You dare turn your back on me?” San yells, pivoting around to face Hyunjin’s barrel, the latter simply yawns as if it’s a regular Saturday activity for him. 

“Oh, don’t get emotional on me,” Hyunjin pouts, before his eyes narrow down coldly. “Now kneel. Let’s end this without staining your carpet.”

You see San slowly lowering himself to the ground, Hyunjin’s gaze sets on you for a millisecond, his pupils dilated in apology, in concern, you don’t know, you don't get to decipher his look because San is taking out his gun from his back pocket, aiming it at Hyunjin. “Watch out”— is all you manage to shout, and hyunjin ducks in an instant, propelled by the sound of your voice to the ground.

He could have died, he could have died because he looked at you. 

It all happens so fast, Hyunjin diving into San to take away his gun, both their weapons flinging into the air, San punching Hyunjin’s mouth and the latter retaliating by flinging his fist up against his nose. You’re struggling with your restraints, trying to reach out for the lone gun that fell to your right. 

A bit more, tune out the sirens, tune out the punches, slowly, only a few centimeters left, your wrist is on fire but that is the least of your concern, almost, there, you grab it.

You fire the gun.

It’s quiet once again, for the first time in two years, it is quiet in your head.

It’s over. 

You close your eyes, tilting your head back into the desk. The sound of your mother’s laughter floods your ears, her airy giggles as she brushes your hair and tucks you into her chest, her being a vision of beauty underneath the sun’s caress. 

“Are you okay?” Hyunjin kneels before you, wiping away the tears rolling down your cheeks with his bruised knuckles. He is worried, even behind those icy blue contacts, you can still grasp his worry.

You nod, swallowing the sob that is lodged within your throat. Hyunjin is quick to unlock your handcuffs, entwining your fingers with his as he pulls you off the ground. 

You slightly push him aside, your eyes set on San’s bleeding figure. He’s still alive, rugged breaths escaping his chest, his palm pressed to the bullet that punctuated his stomach. 

“I want him dead,” you mutter, grabbing Hyunjin’s forearm to support yourself, “but I want him to rot in prison too.” 

“He will, for all his crimes. I have it all documented. The police have it too,” his palm rubs soothingly against your back, you lean further into his touch.

“He’s a monster.” 

“I know. They all are. That’s why I killed them,” he simply says, before guiding you back to a couch on the right of the office. He shrugs off his suit, draping it over your trembling shoulders. 

“Give me a minute.”

You watch as he grabs the gun you fired off of the ground, before taking a handkerchief out of his pocket. He wipes your fingerprints, making sure to leave his all over the gun. He then walks to the table, taking away your listening device and crushing it to the ground.

He’s calm and collected as he rearranges the scene to his liking, it looks like he has done this a million times before, as if this is the element in which he thrives— a sunflower turning to face the sun, at long last. 

He kneels before your freezing figure one last time, tilting your chin to the side so you’d look at him.

“I fired the gun. You had no idea any of this would happen, you’re just an ambitious journalist who wanted an insider scoop.” He senses you’re somewhere far, pulled by the ropes of memories that had long haunted your dreams. His warm palm presses to your cold cheek, your eyes are glossy as they rest on him. 

“You didn’t do anything. I’m the one who used you as a scapegoat to bring San up here, just like I agreed with the police. Alright? You did nothing.You know nothing.” 

“Alright.”

Hours pass in a cold blur, the weight of time lost on you as three police officers take turns questioning you. You repeat the lines Hyunjin taught you, your voice flat, devoid of emotion. Even as you step out of the police station, with Hyunjin's hand resting gently on your back, you feel nothing. A slight tremor runs through you when he mentions that San survived and will be transferred to prison once he's healed.

You don’t know why you’re disappointed you didn’t become a killer.

You don’t know anything, don’t feel anything as Hyunjin drives you home. You don’t question how he knows your address or the code to your elevator. It’s only when you unlock your door and he starts to pull away that reality snaps back.

Without thinking, you grab his wrist, suddenly aware of the loneliness that awaits you inside, an uninvited guest preying on your vulnerable heart.

“Would you like some tea?” you ask, your voice tinged with hopelessness, knowing just how silly you sound. Why would he stay? He has so many loose ends to thread after his finishing blow, you know he’s part of something far larger than you. 

As if mocking your question, his phone buzzes for the tenth time in the span of five minutes.

But then, to your surprise, he turns it off.

“Yeah,” he says with a soft smile, “I’d like some tea.”

As you bring the water to a boil, Hyunjin rolls up the sleeves of his white shirt, casually wandering around your apartment as if it’s not his first time setting foot in here. He’s always at ease— with a gun pointed at him or while looking at the souvenir magnets on your fridge. 

His calmness helps instill some peace in your heart too. 

“I like your apartment,” he says, accepting the cup of chamomile you hand him. “It’s cozy, feels like a home.”

“Thank you,” you whisper as you sink into the couch, your head hung low. So much has happened in just half an hour, too much for you to fully comprehend and process.

“Let me see,” he says a few sips later, as he gently removes the cup from your clutch, before sliding his thumb across your right wrist. The bruises have already begun to form, the red marks from the handcuffs clear evidence of your struggle to reach the gun.

“I’m sorry I involved you in this,” he murmurs, frowning as he avoids your gaze, staring intently at your wrist as if he could will the blue hues away. “I didn’t plan for you to be at the party.”

“I involved myself,” you chuckle softly. You’re not one for physical touch, but you don’t feel the usual urge to pull away from his grasp. His hands are warm, the roughness of his fingertips a stark contrast to the softness of your skin.

“You’re a stubborn journalist,” he says with a small smile, finally meeting your gaze. you suddenly yearn to look into the rich brown of his eyes once more. Was its shade as deep as you remember?

“And you’re an excellent painter,” you retort, eliciting a surprised laugh from him. The sound is unexpectedly endearing, and you’re caught in a whirlwind of contradictions. Is this really the same man you saw taking a life? The same man now holding your wrist as if it were made of porcelain?

“Right, you figured out my identity. What gave me away?” he asks, still smiling.

“I heard about this new gallery where the artist’s only clue to his identity was the name signed on his paintings. So, I decided to see for myself. While everyone else was captivated by the artwork, I noticed you, standing in the corner, observing the reactions of everyone around. You smiled when someone smiled, and your grin grew wider with each compliment. That’s when I started to suspect that the artist was you, all along.”

“I remember it now. I bumped into you as you were leaving,” he says, and you nod.

“What stood out to me were your sad eyes. That’s what I remember most. Well, besides your bruised knuckles.”

“And that’s how you connected the dots.”

“Yes, and your eye mole, too. Even though you tried to conceal it with makeup, it still showed.”

“Very perceptive,” he says with a grin.

“Thank you.”

“Aren’t you worried I’ll expose your identity?” you ask, as his hand gently slides into yours, his fingers resting lightly on top of yours. A simple, innocent touch, yet it stirs something unknown in the pits of your stomach. 

“I trusted you when you said I’m not the one who matters to you.”

“Why would you trust me?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because I miss putting my faith in someone, even if they end up failing me. Isn’t that the most human trait of all?”

How could an assassin create such heartfelt paintings, overflowing with emotions too hard to explain with words, let alone colors? Perhaps because this isn’t the life he always wanted.

“Did you choose this?” you ask softly, your voice barely a whisper. Maybe it’s the exhaustion from the interrogation, or the near brush with death, or perhaps the relief that this chapter is finally closing for both of you. But something compels you to keep talking, to ask, to hold on to Hyunjin just a little longer.

“Being a killer, you mean?” His voice carries a tenderness that seems at odds with the weight of his words. He’s a walking contradiction, balancing two identities within himself—Hyunjin and Sam. One feels heavier on his bones than the other. 

“I grew up in this world,” he continues. “My parents run a large network of assassins—or vigilantes, depending on how you see it. Some people hire us, and sometimes we act on our own when we see injustice or corruption festering for too long. We conduct thorough background checks. We only kill those who truly deserve it. We always make sure of that.”

“An eye for an eye.”

He nods, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I always feel good in the midst of a case. One less evil in the world. But after, there’s just this emptiness. Now what? I always wonder. So I try to fill the void with painting.”

“Now what…” you repeat, your voice trembling as a lump forms in your throat. “Now what? What should I do now?” Tears well up and spill over suddenly, streaming down your face in an unstoppable torrent. “San is behind bars, but my mom isn’t coming back. So what now? What was all of this for if I can’t get her back?”

You find yourself burying your head in the crook of Hyunjin’s neck, his arms wrapping tightly around you, holding you close as if he could contain your sadness, preventing it from seeping from your soul and reaching your mother, wherever she may be.

You haven’t allowed anyone to hold you like this in two years, denying yourself any comfort until you could bring your mother’s killer to justice. It was a promise you made to yourself after San drunkenly ran her over and fled the scene, leaving you alone to hug her cold body in that sterile hospital room.

“It drove me crazy,” you sob, your words broken and incoherent. “He bribed everyone—the doctors, the paramedics, the stores nearby. Everyone acted like my mom didn’t d-die because of h-him,” you hiccup, and Hyunjin only holds you tighter, closer, enough to stitch your wounds with time, only if he remains this close to you. If he wishes to, if you allow him to.

“But now he’s behind bars, and I still don’t have my mom. What do I do now that I can’t bury myself in revenge? Hyunjin, what should I do when I miss her so much and I can’t see her?”

Five hours later.

“The article is perfect, no corrections needed,” Chris says, removing his glasses and looking at you with approval. “Excellent work, Yn.” 

“Thank you,” you nod, feeling a mix of relief, but mostly exhaustion. “I stayed up all night working on it.” 

“Goid, it’s only 6 a.m. so we know that no other media outlet has touched this yet. Our article will be the one to shape public opinion. This is a big win for us. It’s a thorough investigation, and I’m confident you’ll get the recognition you deserve,” he writes something down onto his notebook before looking at you once more. “Take a few days off—you’ve earned it. I’ll reach out if anything urgent comes up.”

“Thank you, sir.” You bow slightly before turning to leave the suffocating office. Or maybe it’s your own mind that’s suffocating you. You don’t have time to dwell on the question before Chris speaks again. 

“Oh, Yn?” Chris calls out just as your hand touches the doorknob. “One last thing, did you ever figure out who was behind all those tapes?”

Your grip on the doorknob tightens imperceptibly. “No sir, no clue.” 

One month later. 

It’s a few minutes before the art gallery closes when you walk in. Hyunjin spots you before you see him, your distinctive walk etched in his memory as vividly as if it were only yesterday that he had seen it.

He approaches quietly, stopping behind you as you gaze at the newest addition to his collection.

“Is this us?” you ask, not turning around. Hyunjin’s eyes follow yours to the abstract painting of a couple waltzing in a ballroom, their hands intertwined just like yours were, four Saturdays ago.

“Yes,” he replies softly.

“It seems I left an everlasting impression on you,” you tease, he can hear the smile in your voice without seeing it. 

“You did. You looked beautiful.”

“So did you.”

“I’m glad you came,” he says sincerely. “I missed you.”

“But we only spent a day together,” you giggle quietly, and Hyunjin wishes he could capture your laugh and tuck it away in the veins of his heart.

“Didn’t that day feel like a year, though?” he muses, resting his chin gently on your shoulder. You lean back into him, closing the space between you.

“It did,” you admit before nervously clearing your throat. “Are you free right now? We could grab a drink, if you’d like?”

“Chamomile tea?” he chuckles, and your laughter vibrates through his being.

“No, something stronger this time.”

He hums, hesitating as he despises the words that would stumble out of his mouth. “I have some things to handle tonight. Urgent matters.”

“Ah,” your voice dips slightly, the disappointment clear in your tone. “Well, it’s okay. I’ll see you another time, then,” you say, finally turning to face him. 

He really missed you. 

“Okay. I’ll see you.”

“Okay.”

“Congratulations on your award, by the way,” he says, watching your expression soften, a delicate smile forming on your lips.

“You saw it?”

“I did. I read your piece, too. I’m sure your mom would be proud of you.”

Tears of gratitude well up in your eyes, and you squeeze Hyunjin’s hand tightly as you whisper, “Thank you. Really. Thank you, Hyunjin.”

Hyunjin’s words linger in your soul, echoing through your mind for the rest of your day, his voice the only sound that seems to fill the silence within you. That is until three loud knocks resonate through your apartment, just minutes before midnight. 

You open the door to find Hyunjin standing there, a fresh bruise marring his jaw, his knuckles freshly scraped and bloodied.

“Let me guess, you had nowhere else to go?” you joke, trying to regain your composure at the sight of him once more.

“No,” he replies, his tone earnest, “I wanted to come to you.”

Your smile falters at the sincerity in his voice. You can’t quite place what it is about Hyunjin that pulls you toward him, how amidst everything that’s happened in the past month, the most vivid memory is how he held you gently as you cried and cried.

“I forgot something,” he says, pulling a tube of cooling cream from his back pocket and offering it to you. “I meant to give this to you for your bruised wrists.”

He’s a month late, you both know your wrists have long since healed.

“I… yeah,” he sighs before your silence, turning to leave, a light blush tinting his cheeks. But before he can, you drop the tube and grab his hand, spinning him back around.

“I forgot something too,” you say quickly before pressing your lips against his.

You don’t fully understand what draws you to Hyunjin, but you know his lips taste as sweet as cherry chapstick, that his hand around your waist feels like water flowing gently over your skin, warm and encompassing. That his brown eyes remind you of sunlight dancing on autumn leaves, that no one has touched your soul as deeply as he has.

You know you wish to make him feel as human as he makes you.

[ohmy-gojo]

choso is a worrywart.

you always have to send him a text after reaching your office. you get a little burnt while cooking? hes cooking from now on. if youre staying out late, better believe hes gonna pick you up no matter how late it is. takes extreme precautions to keep you away from getting sick or hurt. he also does the same with yuuji, you both are his family and he will do anything to keep you both safe and healthy!

so what happens when you start feeling a little under the weather...?

after waking up you were feeling a little feverish, but you decided not to tell choso because knowing him, he will have high blood pressure if he found out that you were sick. but he ends up finding out anyway because you sneezed. once. he immediately pushed a thermometer in your mouth to check

"i knew it. who knew it? me, thats who. i told you not to leave home without a scarf but you dont listen!" he gently but firmly spoke with furrowed eyebrows

"cho, it was 35 degrees outside..." you mumbled with the thermometer in your mouth

"dont move your mouth!"

he pulled out the thermometer from your mouth and gasped loudly after reading it, putting a hand on his mouth. you checked the thermometer and deadpanned at his reaction

"cho its only 99 degrees,"

"y/n, the normal human temperature is 98.6 degree fahrenheit!" he looked at you like you were crazy for taking the information so lightly

"which means im only 0.4 degrees over the normal temperature."

"exactly???"

he asked you about other symptoms you were facing and noted it down (after begrudgingly accepting that you dont need to go to the hospital, boy was ready to call the ambulance). he made you soup and fed it to you, putting a wetcloth on your not so warm forehead. then he forcefully made you rest again after you said you had work. no way you think he's gonna let you move from the bed, let alone go to work!

obsessively kept checking your temperature until it became normal again (it only took an hour..)

he then checked all your symptoms and researched about it... on google. which diagnosed you with brain cancer. choso passed out and you had to take HIM to the hospital 😭

[mssorceressupreme]

Truth or Dare | F.W

———

Pairing: Fred Weasley x reader

Summary: Fred realises his true feelings for you once you are dared to french kiss George during a round of truth or dare. Draco then forces you to kiss him instead, which only results in a brawl. You then take Fred back to the common room and help clean his wounds.

Warnings/tags: violence/fighting, jealous!fred, kissing, non-con touch, Draco being a git (sorry malfoy lovers 😭), cleaning wounds after a fight trope, reader isn't in a specified house here, spicy ending (if u squint)

———

The Ravenclaw common room had never seen a gathering quite like this. The enchanted blue flames flickered in the fireplace, casting a radiant glow over the room, which today, was packed with students from all four houses.

Luna had invited everyone over, claiming that a “spontaneous social gathering” would be a great way to pass the time and forget about your studies for a while.

The usual gryffindor group, Cedric and some hufflepuffs, the slytherin trio and Cho, all decided to partake in this gathering.

And so, there you all were, sitting in a large, chaotic circle on the floor, playing a game of truth or dare that had long spiralled out of control.

The rules were simple: if you refused a dare or a truth, you had to take Veritaserum and spill your deepest, darkest secret in front of everyone. No one wanted to risk that.

So far, Harry had been dared to kiss the prettiest girl in the room, which led to him—rather sheepishly—kissing Ginny, earning a gag from Ron. But moments later, Ron found himself a stuttering mess when Hermione had been dared to sit on his lap for two rounds, her face burning red while he struggled to keep his cool.

Neville, poor thing, had been forced to recount an embarrassing moment where he tripped down an entire staircase in front of his crush, which turned out alright anyway because they went to Madam Pomfrey together and spent the whole day chatting.

And now, it was your turn.

Draco, who sat beside you, leaned in with a smug grin. “Alright Y/N, let’s make this interesting,” he drawled. “I dare you to French kiss the person sitting across from you.”

You turned your head, your stomach flipping.

And there sat George Weasley, grinning at you like he had already won.

The room erupted into cheers, and George wiggled his eyebrows playfully. “Well, Y/N, I won’t say no,” he teased, leaning back on his hands.

Your heart sank a little—not because George was a bad choice, but because you wished it was his twin instead.

Still, rules were rules.

Taking a deep breath, you stood up and took slow tentative steps across the large circle, kneeling in front of George. “Alright Georgie, just get it over with,” you muttered, cheeks burning.

George chuckled. “Hey! At least pretend to be excited.”

You rolled your eyes, chuckling lightly, before leaning in, pressing your lips to his. He kissed you back easily, bringing a hand to your neck, letting it linger a moment longer than necessary before you pulled away, flustered.

George gave you a grin then winked, and you smiled back. He was one of your closest friends, after all; teasing you came naturally to him.

"Okay that's done!" Flustered, you rose up and hurried back to your spot next to Draco.

"You guys are adorable." Cho, who was sitting on the other side of you, nudged you gently, and you laughed nervously.

Sure, George was handsome, humorous, and kind, but he wasn't Fred. To most people, they were pretty much the same person, two halves of a whole, but to you, it was different. There was something about Fred that you saw differently.

Speaking of Fred, you shot a quick glance in his direction, curious as to his whole reaction regarding the scene that just unfolded.

Fred hadn’t said a word.

He sat stiffly, arms crossed, his jaw tight as he glared at his twin. Something in his chest twisted when he saw George’s smug grin.

But it wasn't entirely George's fault. You see, no one knew of Fred's secret crush on you. Would you call it a crush? Man, feelings were a complicated mystery to Fred, he never bothered going down that lane, it was foreign to him. Best avoid all that sappy stuff, y'know.

Draco, however, was unimpressed. “That was pathetic,” he scoffed, leaning closer to you. “You call that a French kiss? It had to be longer.”

You folded your arms, tilting your head to the side. “You didn’t even say how long.”

Draco smirked. “Fine, then, two minutes. You can do it on me instead. Save you the hassle of walking over there again."

The room let out a collective “ooooh,” and your stomach churned.

"Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!" Crabbe, Goyle and Dean chanted.

"Wha—I already did the dare!" You countered, raising your hands in defence.

"Hmm now that Draco mentioned it, it was a bit of a short kiss, barely a French kiss, more like a Portuguese kiss." Lee agreed, resting his hand on his chin.

"Portuguese kiss? That's not even a thing you git." Angelina chortled, throwing her head back.

Before you could react, Draco leaned in slightly, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from your face. His fingers barely grazed your cheek, but it was enough to make you shift uncomfortably. He patted your head, smiling like he was doing you some kind of favour.

You didn’t like it.

But Draco was your friend, and this was supposed to be fun, so you ignored it. You didn't want to ruin the mood for everyone so you forced yourself to tolerate it.

Fred, however, wasn’t ignoring it.

His hand was clenched into a tight fist in his lap, and his usually mischievous eyes were laced with something entirely different.

Draco leaned in again, wrapping one arm around you. “Come on, then,” he murmured, his smirk widening. “Or do you want the Veritaserum?”

Your stomach twisted uncomfortably. You didn’t want to kiss him. But you definitely didn’t want to take the serum, either.

Draco took your hesitation as an invitation. “Oh, come on, don’t tell me you’re scared.”

The crowd cheered again, urging you on.

Draco removed his arm then ruffled your hair slightly, "Don't be a wuss, I'll make it enjoyable for ya."

"Don't be scared Y/N, it's only a kiss!" Seamus encouraged, hoping to make you feel better, but it only made you feel worse.

Only a kiss? You wanted to save french kissing for someone special, not some ridiculous dare.

Draco leaned closer, nuzzling his nose into your neck. His hand brushed against your arm, he was so close that you could now smell his fresh scent. You leaned back instinctively, smiling awkwardly while brushing your arm.

Everyone was so caught up encouraging the two of you to kiss that no one paid attention to the speed at which Fred stood up from the floor and bolted to Draco, tackling him harshly.

A collective gasp echoed through the room as the two of them crashed onto the floor. Draco barely had time to react before Fred punched him, his face twisted in pure rage. The two of them were now in a brawl, wrestling each other on the ground. It was clear that no one was going easy on each other.

“Keep your hands off her,” Fred snapped, his voice low and furious.

Draco, stunned for only a second, sneered up at him. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

"Fred! Oi! Stop, it's just a game!" Lee's attempt at stopping Fred with his words was useless.

Fred wasn’t listening. His fists clenched, his breathing heavy as he pinned Draco down, gripping his shirt harshly.

Draco’s smirk returned. “Merlin, are you jealous Weasley?”

Fred loosened his grip, blinking slowly, "I..."

"Called it. Bet you wished it was you getting to french kiss Y/N then. Why don't you let me finish my dare with her so I can show you how it's done eh?" Draco remarked, all too obnoxiously for Fred's liking.

Fred's eyes grew darker, laced with furiousness.

He lunged again, and in a matter of seconds, they were full-on fighting.

Gasps and shouts filled the room as they tumbled, fists flying, knocking over a pile of books and scattering cards from an abandoned wizarding chess game. The flood thudded heavily, as they continued their wrestling.

“Fred! Draco! Stop!” Voices pleaded, but they were drowned out as Fred was blinded by rage. How dare Draco force himself onto you like that?!

No one listened.

You watched them in pure horror as they fought; you joined the others in yelling at them to stop, but none of them listened.

Hermione immediately went to comfort you, placing a comforting hand on your arm and sending you an apologetic look. Was this all because of you? You felt like shit for causing this, bloody hell, you should've just french kissed Draco.

“Merlin’s beard, Fred, stop!” George tried pulling his twin back, but Fred shook him off, shoving him away.

Cedric attempted to pull Draco off Fred, but Draco pushed him aside, scoffing, "Not now Diggory!"

Draco, despite being an arrogant prat, was also a decent fighter, and he managed to shove Fred back, wiping a bit of blood from his lip.

“What the hell?!” you finally yelled, eyes darting from Fred to Draco.

Fred froze.

His furious gaze met yours, his chest rising and falling heavily, as he wiped some blood off his lips.

He swallowed hard. Then, without a word, he turned and stormed out of the common room.

You hesitated only a second before running after him.

—

You found him on the astronomy tower balcony, leaning against the railing, gripping it so tightly his knuckles were white.

The night air was cold, but Fred’s skin was burning.

You took a deep breath. “Fred—”

“Why don’t you go check on Draco?” he cut in sharply. “Or George. Your boyfriends.”

Your brows furrowed. “They’re not my boyfriends. You're being ridiculous now.”

Fred let out a short, humourless laugh. “Really? You were getting pretty cozy with George back there.”

You sighed. “It was a dare, Fred.”

“Oh, and Draco just happened to be all over you?” He turned to face you, and that’s when you saw it—his bruised lip, the cut on his cheekbone, the faint traces of blood at the corner of his mouth.

"Come on, I know we're friends but I can handle myself." You assumed he was being protective as a friend, so you attempted comforting him, but failed miserably at doing so.

"Yeah, friends." He pressed his lips together.

You took a step closer wanting to reach up, but Fred’s eyes flickered elsewhere. “Don’t.”

You froze.

“I don’t need you feeling bad for me,” he muttered, turning back to the railing. His grip tightened. “I don’t need your pity.”

“It’s not pity, Fred,” you said softly.

Silence stretched between you. The wind howled through the tower, whipping his hair slightly, but Fred didn’t move.

Your gaze drifted to his hands. His knuckles were raw, bruised from the fight.

Without thinking, you reached out, gently prying one of his fists open. He held his breath, glancing down at you.

Your fingers traced the swelling on his knuckles, your touch featherlight. “We need to clean this up.”

Fred didn’t protest. He just stood there, his jaw clenched, watching you. He released his breath, silently agreeing.

Wordlessly, you pulled his hand in yours, leading him down the spiral staircase, away from the cold, away from the fight, away from everyone else.

—

The fire crackled softly in the Gryffindor common room, casting flickering shadows on the walls. The common room was empty—everyone was either asleep or still in the Ravenclaw tower, talking about what had happened.

Fred sat on the couch, his arms resting on his knees, his head tilted slightly downward. He hadn’t said much since you dragged him back.

You returned from the bathroom with a damp cloth and knelt in front of him.

“Hold still,” you murmured, gently dabbing at the dried blood on his lip.

Fred flinched at the contact but didn’t pull away. He just watched you, his hazel eyes unreadable, though there was a glimmer of something, awe, perhaps. His eyes studied yours, the way your eyebrows furrowed as you focused on cleaning his wounds. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips, you were the epitome of beauty in his eyes, a darling angel.

You focused on cleaning him up, biting your lip. The silence between you was begging to be broken, heavy with something left unsaid. But you chose to ignore it, shifting your focus to getting Fred cleaned up. You see, it was the way you were always so caring towards everyone, so kind, always selflessly giving your time away to help those who needed it. That was part of the reason Fred had fallen for you in the first place, your kindness.

Fred exhaled sharply as you pressed on his wound.

"Sorry..." you mutter, but he gently removed your arm, and rested it on his knee.

“I don’t know how to stop this,” he said suddenly.

You paused, looking up at him. “Stop what?”

He let out a cheerless laugh. “This. You. Making me feel like a complete idiot.”

Your heart pace increased. “I—”

“Do you know what it’s like?” His voice was raw, unfiltered, a slight rasp as he spoke softly. “Watching you? Seeing every guy in that room touch you? Kiss you?” He shook his head. “I nearly lost my mind.”

You swallowed hard, unable to tear your gaze away.

“Never thought I'd admit it, but I’ve wanted you,” his voice low, almost trembling. “For so long, and I—” He broke off, exhaling harshly. “And then tonight, I had to sit there and watch it. Merlin, it drove me so bloody mad.”

Your hands were shaking. Was this it? The Fred you never thought would ever return your feelings, about to spew the words right out?

Fred’s eyes locked onto yours, something desperate behind this gaze.

“I hate that you don’t see it,” he muttered.

“See what?” you breathed.

His lips parted, and for a second, he hesitated.

“That I love you.”

Your breath caught, inhaling as you paused.

Fred let out a rough laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Godric, I love you. I don’t just like you, I love you. And it kills me because I know you don’t feel the same way so I just thought I'd keep it to myself but here we are."

Your heartbeat felt as though it was pounding loud enough to wake up the whole dorm.

“You idiot,” you whispered.

Fred blinked. “What?”

“You idiot,” you repeated, your voice shaking. Then, before he could react, you leaned forward and pressed your lips against his with all the emotion you've held back, the words you've been dying to say to him.

It was nothing like the kiss with George.

This was everything.

Fred let out a soft, startled sound before his hands found your waist, pulling you closer, as if he had been waiting for this moment forever. His lips moved against yours, desperate, breathless. He kissed you like he had something to prove, like he needed you to know how much he meant it.

And you did.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, getting up from kneeling and he pulled you onto his lap, now straddling him in the common room, to which you were thankful that no one was around.

A soft moan escaped you, as he sucked on your lower lip, your hands tangled themselves in his fluffy hair, tugging lightly.

When you finally pulled back, both of you breathless, you whispered, “I love you too.”

Fred let out a quiet, shaky laugh, resting his forehead against yours. “You better.” He teased.

You rolled your eyes, and he grinned.

“Oh, shut up,” you muttered, kissing him again as if there was no tomorrow. He smiled into the kiss, desperately needing a round two with you, his Y/N.

[badasgirl]

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ moving picture! 📷 bada lee smau

synopsis: cho aria loves photography more than anything, she’s always looking for new inspiration within her life. lee bada loves dancing more than life itself, she doesn’t believe that she could live without it. inevitability, the two end up crossing paths. what happens if neither can remember the other? maybe not all paths are meant to be crossed.

genre/tags ✮: smau with some written chapters, fluff, angst, cursing, suggestive themes, sexual jokes, implied sex/hooking up, alcohol and drinking mentions, vaping and smoking mentions, maybe future smut idk we’ll see

pairing ✮: aria cho (oc) x bada lee

others ✮: team bebe, zb1, giselle of aespa, keeho of p1harmony, yunjin of le sserafim & more!

status ✮: ongoing

notes/disclaimer ✮: sorry this took so long, i haven’t been feeling the best 😭…some things may be a little unrealistic, but it’s an au for a reason <3 please ignore the timestamps unless specified 🙏 some characters were aged down from their actual age to fit into the same age category as others! these are all characters and they do NOT represent the idol/dancer in real life. please feel free to talk to me about the au in my inbox, reblogs, and replies! thank you for reading :)) also, would you guys like a taglist? and special thanks to my best friend for making the cover photo <3 ily

profiles ✮: bad girls club core four others

1. lock in.

2. party favors

3. wtf happened last night?

4. obsession

5. oh that’s not…

6. stand up!

taglist (OPEN) ✮: @urlovebot @1luvkarina @justahopelessromanticagain @neuftaeng @lillovax (* means you cant be tagged)

[dollettodraws]

The Hollowheads in the arcane art style!! (as always click for the better quality 🥲)

This was so much fun! I wanted to make portraits of my designs for the sticks for a while, and since arcane s2 came out I wanted to try em out in that style so I finally got around to it!

No symmetry tool because arcane’s art thrives on the imperfections

Small change specifically with Cho, he’s got red accents on his jacket now to match dark’s black ones- other than that they’re all the same as usual (aside from second’s necklace missing the purple)

Also random thing I noticed while painting these— vic’s tie is the same colour as mitsi’s dress jdjdjd so not ONLY did I unintentionally style his hair like hers but now also this 😭 THESE COINCIDENCES ARE JUST WORKING IN MY FAVOUR (unfortunately)

anyways hope y’all like em :) RGBY are next!!!

(ps, the colours of the bg were on purpose ;) )

[ashkabbom]

Day off - Mouthwashing

✸ – 💥REQUESTS💥

→ ✸ – Mouthwashing - MasterList

A/n: I genuinely didn't like how this one turned out that much, but I swear I tried😭 (And this request came from Wattpad). Correct me if I wrote something wrong. English is not my first language and I ended up using the translator's help 🫶🏽👍🏽

•Daisuke x Male!Reader

Summary/Synopsis: Same day, different days off

Notes: Sometimes it's better to actually say what you feel and what you want to get out to the person you want to talk to. You already have the no, but you don't know what would have happened if you had said and/or explained what you think and feel.

You and your friend were walking through the mall, you had gone to the cinema to see a movie he really wanted to see and then went to eat, which resulted in you walking for some time.

Honestly, you thought you would spend the day at home today, it was finally your day off for the week, but you're not complaining about any of that, you just didn't expect to have a Japanese guy at your door at 5pm on a Sunday.

“Let’s stop right here, otherwise we’ll spend half an hour just deciding where to eat.” He says as the two of you approach one of the tables in the food court. "Let me order and pay for the food."

You sit right there and turn to Daisuke. "You can order the same thing you order for me too, but I want the large portion of fries and a... Vanilla milkshake with dulce de leche." You explain what you want and Daisuke nods, soon moving away from the table where you were.

Quite a gentleman you would say.

Daisuke was that friend you could call to do anything and if he was free he would accept right away, It's no wonder that last week you and he were at the hospital because you asked him to go with you, but it was only you who was going to have a blood exam.

But you would say he was more frequent at your house than you were at his, probably because you lived alone now and he was still in the process of getting a job as far as you knew.

He was a little insecure and nervous when it came to the future and getting a job, but you knew he would get it, Daisuke is amazing even at what he's not good at.

Yes, your friend was the best of the best for you, he always will be.

"Earth calling, hello hello?" You wake up from your trance and realize that your friend and the food have arrived. "Are you okay? I thought about leaving you there to think and stealing some of your fries, but then you started staring too much at the kid at the other table."

"I was staring at someone and you didn't tell me right away?!" You feel embarrassed that you possibly stared into the soul of a random child. "And you were still going to steal my fries"

"No no no. I said I thought that, I didn't say I was actually going to do that, it was just a thought." He defends himself as he eats the burger he had ordered.

"Oh, sure, sure." You don't waste much time grumbling and start eating too.

Moments like these are the ones you always keep in your memory. You are not a person who takes pictures of the moments you go out with your friends, you prefer to enjoy yourself without stopping to take pictures, although sometimes you wish you had a memory of days like those.

Honestly, you didn't remember how you met Daisuke, you just know that you've known him for about 4 years. It doesn't matter, he saw you and decided that you would be his friend and it ended up working out.

(At least that's how he explained how you became friends)

Your vacation would be in about 3 weeks, you were thinking about taking a trip with your family and your friend's family. It wasn't a bad idea, his mother and his mother got along well after all.

"Remember that girl from our school? The one who sat behind you in class?" He asks after taking a sip of his milkshake.

"A red-haired girl?" You ask and Daisuke nods. "Yes, I remember, it's hard to forget that girl." You roll your eyes with a smile.

"So.." He pauses to chew and swallow the burger. "She got married last week."

You choke a little on your milkshake. "SHE got married?? Last week??"

You and he spend another 2 hours at the mall, talking and taking the opportunity to buy some things for yourselves. It was a quieter day than you expected, but those trips to the mall always left you sleepy afterwards.

The Uber parks right in front of your house and you both get out of the car after paying. You just want to relax now and have some peace for the night.

After passing through and locking the door, you throw yourself onto the couch along with the shopping bag you were holding.

"You get tired really quickly, you know?" Daisuke says with a disapproving look. "I think I'll go home, it's a little late."

"Aaahh, I already locked the door now, just tell your mom that you're going to sleep here tonight" You say simply as you settle into the couch, stretching a little.

"Sleeping here tonight... You make dinner then, I'll call her now" He says as he goes to a corner of the house where he can't hear the future noise of the pots.

Honestly, you didn't know how he was still hungry, but you didn't complain. Maybe Stroganoff with rice and straw potatoes would be good for dinner today.

Now you two were having dinner on the couch, watching a random movie while chatting a little about anything. You decided to tell him what you were thinking about for your work vacation.

"My vacation is in 3 weeks and I was thinking about going to the beach together, you know? My family and yours. It's been a while since we've all been out together."

And then there was silence, except for the noise of the movie playing on the TV. You didn't know why it was so silent, but you didn't like it.

"... I got accepted into a job." He says with a little trepidation, but direct.

"Oh.. That's actually good!" You feel relieved and you laugh, you weren't expecting that. "I'm happy for you! We can go to the beach when you have time off or vacation then!"

"That's the problem.. I'm going to be gone for a whole year and maybe a little longer sometimes." And then his smile fades and his expression of relief disappears as well. "It's a company that transports cargo in... Space, Pony Express if I'm not mistaken"

It was a small thing, but that small thing is huge. You think you've heard about this company at some point in your life, but you weren't sure.

These things were quite common nowadays, so it wouldn't be hard for you not to have heard of some of these companies... or corporations?? I don't know, you don't care so much about the right way to call it.

"Oh.. That... That's new.." You say trying to process and organize the information. "That's great! I'm happy for you!" You say a little more excitedly, placing your now empty plate of food beside you.

"Yeah hehe.. Thanks" He says a little embarrassed and also puts the plate aside.

"Among the stars up there, is it?" You say thoughtfully. "When you get back, you'll tell me what it's like up there."

"Of course I will, but I don't know what could be so cool about a dark place with lots of white dots" Daisuke says genuinely confused.

"Oh, I think it's cool, I don't know what could be really cool either, but I like the idea!" You say feeling slightly attacked.

"If you say so" He laughs and rolls his eyes.

That night you asked (forced) your friend to wash the dishes while you pulled the mattress from your bedroom to the living room. Daisuke moves around a lot sometimes when he's sleeping, so letting him sleep on the couch wouldn't be the best idea, so you're the one who's going to sleep on the couch and he's going to sleep on the mattress on the floor.

"I wish I could sleep all day tomorrow.." You complain after throwing yourself on the couch, your pillow and blanket already on it.

"You're really lazy sometimes, you know that? But this time I'll take it off because you work." He throws a pillow in your face and laughs.

"You'll start to understand me when you start working." You reciprocate by throwing the pillow at him now. "Although it might even be peaceful in space" On reflection you can't find a right answer, but you were more inclined to believe that it would be peaceful and quiet.

"I don't even want to think about it too much, I start in two days" He mumbles and yawns, turning to the other side to soon fall asleep.

"And then I'm the lazy one who gets tired quickly. Soon you'll see what it's like to be really tired." You say as you look at your friend lying on the mattress, yawning soon after.

"There's no way I could be as lazy as you." He says in a loud whisper.

"Yes yes.. Just don't forget about me while you work there" Your tone changes from playful to more sincere. Being away from your best friend for so long is weird. You don't like it.

"You know that this is humanly impossible. I should be the one telling you this! Now lay your head down and go to sleep." He complains before he actually starts to fall asleep. You just laugh and agree, falling asleep too.

In the morning he went home after having coffee at his house. Daisuke explained to you that the next day he would be heading to work and that he would miss you, he hugged you, he cried a little.

Your friend might be a crybaby at times, but you wouldn't expect your eyes to water afterwards.

You remember it as if it were today, the day you said goodbye, you just didn't know it would be forever. You regret not having enjoyed that day more.

It had been 6 years since Tulpar, the ship Daisuke was on, had embarked into space, and today it had been 2 years since the ship had been found.

Only the captain was alive, the rest of the crew dead. It was reported how the crew had died, but nothing shown, obviously.

Daisuke's face had an axe cut mark in the middle of his face, his body had some serious injuries. That's what was said about it.

You regret not telling him how you felt.

Being away from Daisuke for so long was weird. You didn't like it.

[m00nkissedlover]

・｡Fair Day, Fun Day 🎡

You've ordered: an iced churro latte! enjoy!

"You're making me feel brand new, you're more than the sunshine in my eyes~"

modern au! Choso Kamo x reader | word count: 831 words

Summary: amusement park date with choso 🎡

Warnings: none! not proofread

Note: little self indulgent fic cause i literally could find little to no fluff for this man on here 😭 if anyone knows any jjk fluff or angst writers, pls let me know!

The sounds of delightful screams and laughter as people rode various rides. The smells of delicious food and snack options in the air. The fun game stands with cute prizes hanging from their ceilings. All of if made the amusement park atmosphere what it was. Today, you were here with your boyfriend, Choso.

You were shocked when he told you he'd never been to an amusement park, wanting him to experience the same excitement and fun. You two held hands as you walked around, holding churros and debating on what ride to go on next.

"What do you wanna go on next, Cho?" you asked, gently squeezing his hand as you two looked around.

"Hmm...nothing too fast, we don't want to throw up-" Choso mumbled, remembering the last ride you two went on.

While you two walked around, one of the game stalls caught your eye. It was one of those games where you had to knock down cups stacked in a pyramid with a baseball. The prizes ranged from little plastic keychains to giant teddy bears.

You tugged on Choso's hand, motioning to the stall. "You think you can win me one of the teddy bears?" you asked, a cute smile on your lips.

Choso glanced the game over, arriving at the counter. "You get 3 tries. No leaning against the stand, no putting your elbows on the counter. Please stand behind the tape line." the person running the stand said.

Choso nodded, taking one of the baseballs and standing behind the line. "Choso, remember. It's okay if you don't win. I won't be upset." you told him, giving him a pat on the shoulder.

But you could see that he was determined to win you a teddy bear. The biggest one at that. He squinted his eyes a little, taking his aim, and throwing the baseball.

CLANK! The guy running the stand was more shocked than you, standing there with his jaw hanging open as every single cup fell off on the stand.

"We'll take the biggest teddy bear you have." Choso requested nonchalantly, the guy still in shock as he got on a ladder to reach the biggest stuffed bear and handing it to you. You gladly took it, giddy laughter leaving you as you spun around with the bear. Choso couldn't fight the smile creeping up onto his lips, finding the sight heartwarming.

"What would you like to do now?" Choso asked, giving you a gentle pat on the head as you two walked away from the game stands. The sun was starting to set and the perfect idea popped into your head. "Hmm...let's go on the ferris wheel!" you exclaimed, pointing to the giant wheel.

You two were now in one of the ferris wheel boxes, the ride slowly starting to lift you two up above the fair grounds. You sat near the window, your nose practically pressed up against it as you gasped in excitement.

"Everything's getting so small! Choso, look!" you exclaimed, urging your boyfriend to have a look.

"Yeah...the view's beautiful..." he murmured, resting his chin on your teddy bear that sat between you two.

"I know, rig-?" you turned back to Choso, your cheeks heating up a bit. Choso hadn't been looking out the window. He was looking at you.

"You're staring, Cho..." you mumbled. Now it was his turn to blush, his head burying into the plush softness of the teddy bear. You couldn't help but laugh, a slight grumble leaving him as he looked back up at you.

"It's okay. i like it when you stare at me." you stated, scooting closer to him and taking the bear plush in your hands. You moved its head out of the way, before setting it on the floor of the car.

Choso's heart skipped a beat as he noticed you leaning in closer to him, his breath hitching. He let his eyes flutter shut and you stared at him for a moment. He looked so at peace, but also so nervous, obviously expecting a kiss. You decided to mess with him a little, picking up the teddy bear and moving its head closer to him until his lips met faux fur.

Choso opened his eyes and sputtered, his cheeks coloring as you burst into a fit of laughter. "Y/n..." choso grumbled, fighting the smile that threatened to form on his lips. He looked so cute, sitting there, sulking about not getting a real kiss from you.

You couldn't help it and when he least expected it, you cupped his cheeks and planted a soft and gentle kiss on his lips. A rush of warmth ran through his body as he sighed into it, placing his hands over your own.

"Thanks for coming with me today, Choso." you hummed, resting your forehead on his as you pulled away from the kiss.

"Any time. Let's come again tomorrow. I'll win you an even bigger prize."

And to your surprise, that's exactly what he did.🎡

© m00nkissedlover, 2024

[sexy-mok]

Caps from zophantom's video (here)

[waloeders]

okay fine. sdv au for the jjks. as a treat. they all move there to escape. fuck curses

[airaibunny]

miyeon x reader - “the idea of her” (warnings: fluff, kissing, nudity)

a/n: BLONDE MIYEON APPRECIATION! this is literally an adaptation of a chapter story i had in my notes app😭 i haven’t the slightest clue if miyeon can drive, but pretend she can. i also do not know how gidle’s dorm situation works, once again, just pretend i’m right.

IM SORRY FOR LYING, I KNOW I SAID I WOULD WRITE THE ‘DO NOT TOUCH’ MINA SMUT NEXT, BUT THIS JUST POPPED INTO MY HEAD AND I HAD TO.

anyway, hope you enjoy pooks😭

word count: 1.3k

"y/n."

"y/n!"

"Y/N?!"

you barely register yuqi calling you as you’re zoning out. you’re at a fansign and should be paying attention to the fans, but you just can’t help being completely enraptured with her.

everything from her gorgeous blonde hair to the way her eyes squint when she smiles has you completely smitten. you’ve been in the same group for years and you’ve felt this way from the very beginning. you’re sure nobody can notice how you feel though, or at least you hope so for the sake of your career. if you’re wrong, cho miyeon might be the reason for your untimely expulsion.

"y/n? are you there? we’re leaving." yuqi waves a hand in front of your face and pulls you out of your chair before you can react. you finally notice everyone packing up around you. maybe you zoned out a bit too hard.

"oh, okay." you simply follow yuqi as she pulls your hand and walks you to the car. the entire way there you’re looking around for miyeon, but she’s nowhere to be seen. once you get to the car, yuqi practically throws you inside and you bump into shuhua.

“WHAT THE FUCK?” of course shuhua being shuhua starts yelling and whining at you. “I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING, YUQI THREW ME!” shuhua shifts her anger towards yuqi, shouting at her instead.

“oh sorry, i didn’t realize i was in your way, BITCH!" she rubs her arm where you bumped into her and then does the same to you. "you’re the bitch, STOP YELLING!" shuhua stops rubbing your arm and fully turns to the passenger seat where yuqi is. “how the fuck are you going to tell me to stop yelling WHILE YOU’RE YELLING?!”

just as shuhua is finishing her sentence, miyeon gets in the drivers seat of the car.

“oh my god, both of you shut up. i can hear you from outside.”

she isn’t even talking to you, but you halt your breathing unconsciously. fuck, how is she so devine? you’re sitting in the backseat opposite to the drivers seat, so you have a perfect view of her.

“minnie and soyeon are driving back in the other car, does anyone want to switch cars to even it out?”

yuqi immediately storms out of the car and slams the door behind her. shuhua scoffs in response. them arguing is normal, you’re sure they’ll be completely fine as soon as you get home.

“now i feel lonely, someone come sit up here.” shuhua doesn’t react, so you’re guessing she doesn’t want to move. you take advantage of the opportunity and go sit bedside miyeon. she smiles when you sit and your eyes widen, she’s just so incredible.

once you’re on the road, you put headphones in and sneakily stare a miyeon every now and then. a few more minutes into the drive, you feel her hand land on your thigh. you tense at the feeling, but continue facing forward. you all have little to no boundaries with each other, miyeon doing this is not new. nevertheless, her touch quickens your heartbeat immensely.

you fiercely wish you could tell her how you feel. she’s never explicitly told you she doesn’t like girls, so a relationship with her is plausible. be that as it may, you have no clue if she likes you.

you finally arrive at the dorms and follow miyeon around while she grabs things from the trunk and walks upstairs. you practically attach yourself to her every chance you get.

you walk through the front door and flop down on the couch, watching as miyeon walks around trying to tidy things up before bed. you don’t realize that you’re dozing off until someone pats your upper back, softly whispering to you.

“hey, let’s go to bed.”

you slightly open your eyes to see miyeon kneeling in front of your face, smiling at you. you stand and she takes your hand, holding it all the way to her room. you’re hesitant to go in because you don’t normally sleep with miyeon, you share a room with shuhua.

“oh, right. yuqi and shuhua are over their little fight as usual so yuqi went to sleep in your room, they kind of kicked you out.”

“oh.”

you try hiding your excitement as you completely walk into the room. this doesn’t happen often, but you love when it does. you delight in falling asleep next to miyeon, even if she’s in a completely different bed.

“oh shit, i didn’t think to grab your pijamas before they fell asleep. you can just wear mine.”

she picks random clothes from her closet and hands them to you. she also picks some for herself and begins undressing. you get extremely flustered. even after all this time changing together for music shows and photo shoots and whatnot, you still can’t handle seeing her naked. when it’s any of the others, you’re not fazed at all, it’s only her.

she finishes changing and looks your way, rolling her eyes. “change! i don’t want you to fall asleep in those clothes.” she walks outside to do something and leaves you alone in the room. you try changing, but fall back on the bed instead. you’re so tired, you start to doze off again.

you fall asleep and awake a few minutes later to miyeon pulling your shirt off. you nearly die in that instant.

holy fuck.

“i told you to change.”

she completely takes your shirt off and throws it aside, turning back to you. her face is centimeters away from yours. so close that one rough move would make your lips touch.

you feel a sudden rush of adrenaline and lean into her without thinking. you immediately pull back, slapping a hand over your lips.

“i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to.”

she’s frozen for a few seconds. you curse yourself as you feel tears forming in your eyes. why would you do that? that was so reckless. what if you just ruined your friendship with her?

“miyeon, i’m so sorry.”

she puts a hand on your cheek, bringing you in for a kiss. you swear you can feel every single thing on your mind fade away. the only feeling you’re aware of in this moment is her lips on yours. they’re warm and soft, just like you imagined.

“don’t apologize.”

she whispers against you lips with a smile. you pull her back in, deepening the kiss. you know it’s cliché, but you wish you could stay here forever. you part her lips with your tongue, gently pushing it inside her mouth. she giggles at your excitement, letting you take control of the kiss.

“how long have you been holding that in?”

she taunts as she pulls away, placing her hand on your thigh. “i don’t know.” she chuckles at you. “wanna know how long i’ve been holding it in?” your cheeks redden at her question. she’s liked you this entire time. why didn’t you do something sooner?!

“a very long time.” she leans in for another quick kiss before completely laying down on the bed. “finish changing and come cuddle with me.” you hop up and tear all of your clothes off, putting on your pijamas as quickly as you can.

“you’re so cute.” you hear her remark as you’re struggling to put your shorts on. as soon as you’re done, you jump back into bed, wrapping around her like a sloth. you plant kisses all over her face as she smiles, you just can’t contain yourself. you can’t fathom that she actually likes you. the girl you’ve been completely whipped for all this time actually likes you.

she pushes your hair out of you face, running her fingers through it.

“miyeon?” you ask while looking into her eyes. “yes?” she responds, still playing with your hair. “what are we now?” she kisses you again, bringing you closer to her chest.

“whatever you want us to be, pretty girl.”

[ihopesocomic]

Something I would just really want to thank you guys for is how much stuff I learned about mental health and the lgbtq community, despite being a part of it I still have so much to learn

One thing I learned that really stuck out to me and may have rewired my brain was the talk about ASPD back when Bright was being accused of having a mental illness. Let me tell you, it gave me the ICK when someone mentioned that–like yeah I didn't really think about that when I encounter similarly mannered characters with Bright, and it's immediately understandable if it was explained otherwise in the characters backstory, but OH MY GOSH please do not just throw that accusation around 😭

Anyway back to my point, I never heard that the term ps*cho was a very harmful and albiest term for people with ASPD (a condition I also wasn't aware of) and ever since then I would flinch when someone gets described as such.

As a follow up question, how do you guys come to know so many things about these topics? Like where do you even begin with your research, because I would love to read on stuff on my own (as a way to also understand myself cuz I MIGHT be autistic, not fully claiming it yet, just a suspicion for now) to better understand others too.

This is one if the things that made me fall in love with the comic and it's world building, I learned so much from it. And to the point I get shocked when I get hit with reality cuz in IHS the world is free of homophobia and the likes so I'm like "Huh, but isn't that normal?" Lol

Thank you so much, anon. It's always great when we hear that we've helped people understand things better.

To be honest, just... listening to people when they try and educate you is a major component to learning about things. Not everybody is out to get you when they correct you on things. We didn't know much about ASPD until a few years ago when somebody brought up that we misused the word 'psychopath' in the MP analysis when, in reality, we should've expanded on the fact that it was the creator's bad attempt at depicting such a thing.

I think another thing that helps is when you have something that the media deems pretty adjacent to ASPD - schizophrenia - you realise that the same stereotypes and misconceptions apply to your condition too, even though they're totally different. That's just schizophrenia and personality disorders in general, though. People will confuse them until the end of time.

Outlets like Reddit are also very handy if you wish to have first-hand experiences for what you're looking into too. Mainly because there are tons of communities for people with various conditions where they come together and discuss their day-to-day lives. And professionals in mental health will also sometimes contribute to such communities as well.

There are things about my own condition that I didn't even know before I started this comic. Things such as negative vs. positive symptoms, which I automatically assumed was media-based and was not an actual medical definition: I'm an idiot sometimes. lol

As for your feelings that you may be autistic: self diagnosis is certainly a thing and very valid. An autism diagnosis is very hard to get as an adult, especially if you do not have the money for it. I thankfully live in a country with free healthcare but even then, I had to spend the ages between 16-24 having to convince people that I was autistic.

And I only got put on a waiting list - where you have to wait for years to get a diagnosis - after I had a mental breakdown and got my schizophrenia diagnosis. You literally have to jump through hoops to get the answers you want, sometimes at the cost of your own well being (i.e. it took me breaking literal bones to get my dyspraxia diagnosis oof). So, anybody who says you're not entitled to have your self diagnosis either had an unusually easy ride through the system or they don't know the system as well as they claim they do.

So, if this is something you feel quite strongly about, I recommend doing what I did when I found a character in a show that was autistic and related to her hardcore and just do research and see how much of it applies to you. A lot of the time, you just need to look around for five minutes to tick a lot of boxes in your head and come up with the diagnosis you need.

But anyway, sorry this got super lengthy, anon. Thank you for the sweet ask and we hope you enjoy the comic as it continues. c: - RJ

[robot753]

First post in my new acc!!! (I had one where id post random stuff about fandoms Im in but I deleted it) And it's a rant, whoops!

I'm BEGGING ya'll AO3 writers to stop misgendering Hyun-Ju Cho (Player 120) in your fanfics!!

PLEASE! She's the one and only CANON Trans character on the series, and she's on a very famous world-wide series, and very a adored character! Which is like, a huge step-up for the Trans community!

But ya'll KEEP. MISGENDERING. HER!

Im giving most of you the complete benefit of the doubt since it doesn't seem to be on purpose. (As like 90% of the time shes misgendered its with "he", so it could just be missing the letter 'S'). But PLEASE make a bit of a small effort!

SO many fics do it, and only to her! Not to the other characters, personally I dont understand how it happens as in my mind I've never ever refered to her as a man or w masculine pronouns but I get it can just be a typo, so again, giving yall the benefit of the doubt..

I doubt doing a quick beta read or asking someone to do it for you is that hard!

PLEASE, as a Trans person who loves player 120, I'm BEGGING you.

I haven't read that many SquidGame fics, but it's happened a few times already, usually 3-4 times in the same fic. I've been reading a lot of 120×246 and that's where I'm seeing it happen a lot, especially on the oneshots n stuff!

PLS if you have written anything that includes her, do a quick check that you're not misgendering her anywhere!

Please and thank you for reading my rant 😭.

Edit: BTW write more Player 120/Player 246 I love them sm w my whole heart, if I could write I would do it myself 😭🙏