#zb1 series

[iwillneverforgiveyousunghanbin]

bully⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

thursday, sung hanbin— poetry ii

⋆˙⟡ zbully1 smut series masterlist! hanbin, jiwoong, hao, matthew, and taerae included. game day (group) chapter here. all 7 endings here.

⋆˙⟡ wc: 3.5k (it's a doozy but it's worth it i literally am so happy with this one)

⋆˙⟡ reader: femme afab (listed first, she/her are used) // gender neutral (alternate version listed second, no pronouns used at all to describe reader— scroll down)

⋆˙⟡ series summary: five bullies. six days. it's gonna be a hell of a week, babe. stay hydrated.

⋆˙⟡ thursday summary: thursday. good news: the week is almost over. bad news: you're stuck in poetry class with sung hanbin as your desk partner. it's weird. sometimes you play off each other so well, you're nearly blindsided by his sudden flipping of the switch. if only you could steal a glimpse at his journal.

⋆˙⟡ warnings: explicit smut. 18+. minors do not interact. please read specific smut warnings under the cut! swearing. angst. slight dub-con. bullying. very toxic softboi/popular soccer star hanbinnie. guys THE LORE. you very well may not survive til the end of the week but we're already on this journey together so let's see it through!!! smut in gn and fem versions are slightly different due to logistics/circumstance. also there's two parts i wrote in here that made me laugh way too hard okay bye. xx

⋆˙⟡ bully scale: ★★★★☆(4.5)

EXPLICIT SMUT 18+ WARNINGS: choking (reader receiving and safely executed lmao), chest groping/brief nipple play (reader receiving; reader is wearing a bra and hanbin refers to you as having 'tits'), heavy petting (reader and hanbin receiving), fingering (brief, reader receiving), erotic humiliation and degradation (towards reader; about looseness of pussy after this week/disappointing chest but not the size of it he's just being a dick am i making sense), slut and whore used to describe reader, one slap across the face (reader receiving), slight dub-con but we know how reader rolls now lol. hanbin is insanely toxic. enjoy.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　

scribble. scribble. scribble. 

the scratchings of your pencil in your poetry journal are growing increasingly violent. you don’t really care. you’d stayed up all night: tossing and turning and thinking and plotting. 

“hey, uh... you okay?” hanbin asks, tapping you gently with the end of his pen. your pencil falls from your fingers as you’re jolted from your anxious thought spiral. 

“huh?” you reply, blinking at the star of the soccer team. “oh, um. yeah. i’m okay.”

hanbin’s brow raises slightly at your answer as if it surprises him. “you sure?”

“yeah,” you reply as nonchalantly as possible. “why?”

you follow hanbin’s line of sight to the open page of your poetry journal. you’ve absentmindedly ripped a significant hole through several pages with your vortex of nervous scribbling.

you breathe an awkward laugh, closing your journal and putting your pencil down flat on your desk.

“you had a rough week,” hanbin says, grabbing his journal from his bag and placing it on his desk. you bite your cheeks to keep from grinning at the sight of your target. “or so i’ve heard.”

“i’m sure you have,” you mumble, glancing at the tile floor. “i’m sure everybody has.”

“they haven’t,” he replies definitively and you know he’s telling the truth. “i promise they haven’t.”

hanbin was a tricky one. the star of the soccer team and undoubtedly the most popular boy at your university, it comes as no surprise that he was also the makeshift ring leader of his stupid group of friends. keeping that spotlight also meant keeping up appearances. while your other bullies made their distaste for you known whenever possible, hanbin had a different preferred method of torture.

he liked to play nice. compliment your poems. share a laugh... reel you in.

until you were so close, you couldn’t escape. that’s when he’d flip the script on you. 

like when he sent your poem about the boy you liked to the entire university’s mailing list last year. you’d insisted you didn’t feel comfortable sharing it with him. you recoiled with embarrassment at the thought of junseo, your senior lab partner, finding out. but he pushed. made you think you could trust him.

the next day, it was pinned to every bulletin board across campus next to a picture of you that hanbin had taken on your class trip to the national library. like some sort of sick calling card.

junseo sunbae-nim never muttered more than a word to you ever again.

so that’s how all this started. hanbin recruiting his three (and then four) asshole friends in a sudden and violent quest to become the bane of your existence. 

sometimes you still can’t help but wonder if you’d done something to upset him. but you shake off that thought each time. you won’t let him get in your head again so easily.

you’ve about mustered the courage to give hanbin some snarky response when your professor’s chalk hatchings across the blackboard send a hush over the classroom.

“good afternoon, everyone,” professor choi greets happily, underlining today’s date on the board. “let’s jump right in today and start with our weekly journals. please share with your desk partner the poem that this week so far inspired you to write.”

your eyes fix on hanbin’s journal again, anticipation stirring as you think about the clues that could be hidden in his poem this week. could the answers you’re looking for really be inside that black, leather book?

“you should go fi—,” you start to suggest a bit too quietly before hanbin unknowingly cuts you off.

“do you wanna go first?” he asks brightly, smile lines illuminating his soft features. you know you shouldn’t indulge him, but you can never stop the corners of your lips from involuntarily turning up in response. no matter how much you hated him, his fairytale prince looks were undeniable.

“oh, uh,” you stammer, grabbing your journal and flipping it open to your entry from this week. you look at the poem you wrote, eyes scanning over the emotional stanzas as you bite your lip uneasily. “i dunno. i kind of got a bit too... personal this week.”

“oh, you know i don’t mind,” he replies calmly. “that’s what poetry is, right?”

“i’m well aware you don’t mind me spilling personal details to you,” you reply with a glare. “but i mind.”

“(y/n)-sshi,” professor choi’s voice suddenly rings over your shoulder. “let’s get reading, okay? time is limited.”

you swallow hard, looking down at your journal shamefully. “yes, professor-nim.”

“so what’s it called?” hanbin asks as professor choi makes her way back up to her desk, folding his arms across his chest and leaning back into his chair. “your poem?”

“the bird,” you answer softly. “it’s called the bird.”

he nods pensively before gesturing for you to start. you look back down at the page, fingers shaking as you try to hold your journal steady. clearing your throat, you recite:

“from her perch at the window, she will never be much. the vultures jeered at her as they circled above. then one flew down— with taloned-hand, he did touch. and a meek little finch turned into a dove. if a dove she can be, she will be it as such. til another vulture fell to his knees with a glove. parted her feathers and took her in his clutch. and from the fair bird, made a raven thereof. she needs to change back, so she tries to stay hush. but a third brash vulture throws her off with a shove. the reluctant truth is she’s filling with lust... and she’s growing quite scared of the bird she’ll become.”

you blink back tears as you close your journal and place it on your desk in front of you. maybe it’s your lack of sleep or the mentally and physically jarring week you’ve had, but reading your poem aloud had left you feeling quite vulnerable.

“that was beautiful, (y/n),” hanbin says suddenly, prying you from your regret. you turn to him, eyes wide as he nods thoughtfully. “i really appreciated the metaphor of the bird. the vultures are considered bad birds, but somehow they changed the subject from an unassuming bird into the more beautiful bird she seemed to want to be... but never thought she could.”

you stare at him as he glances up at the ceiling, those handsome smile lines crinkling his cheeks again.

“funny how things we could perceive as wrong or immoral can actually have a positive effect on us,” he muses with a chuckle. “but it’s only natural for the bird to question that change. she’s done more of that ‘bad’ thing and now she’s afraid it’s turned her into a raven. a bird that frightens her. or maybe a bird she can’t recognize anymore when she looks in the mirror.”

“it did,” you assert quietly. “it did change her.”

“but it sounds like she likes that change. at least part of her,” hanbin rebuts, meeting your gaze. “perhaps if she embraces that and sheds her own guilt— or molts, if you will— she’ll realize the raven is another distortion of her own making, just like the finch was. she’ll realize she is the dove and she always has been.”

your lips part as you gape at hanbin in awe. it was hard not to let your guard down with him when he always dissected your poems so intuitively like this. memories of intense public humiliation are the only thing that can keep you grounded.

“or,” he adds, a small smirk upturning the corner of his lips. “i guess she could also realize that ravens and vultures aren’t the bad birds she thinks they are. maybe she finds that, after all this worrying, she was meant to be a vulture, too.”

“under a minute left,” professor choi calls out from the front of the classroom.

shit. hanbin had talked so much about your poem that he barely had any time left to share his— the poem you desperately needed to be shared in the first place.

hanbin’s still rambling on about vultures, but you’re not paying any attention as a wave of panic rushes over you. 

“you should share yours still,” you prompt a little too eagerly, cutting him off mid-sentence. trying your best to dial it back, you add, “i’m sure it’s very interesting, what with the big game on saturday and all.”

hanbin smiles, holding your gaze for a moment too long. it’s suspicious, but his eyes give nothing away.

“if it’s okay with you, i’d rather not share this week,” he says, throwing his journal back in his bag. “i got a little too... how did you put it? personal.”

you blink at him. “but—. but that’s what i said and you—.”

hanbin mutters something under his breath that you swear sounds like, “not like you’d listen to me anyway.”

but you must’ve misheard him.

your heart sinks, your plan crumbling to ashes before your eyes as professor choi launches into a lecture about wilfred owen’s 20th century use of assonance. hanbin had to have written something about what his friends had been up to. that’s why he used up so much time focusing on your poem. 

your pencil moves across your paper, absentmindedly taking notes until you reach the only possible conclusion: you can’t give up. you’ll just have to amend the plan.

after class, you hurriedly gather your things and run out the door, pulling your phone out and typing vigorously as you make your way to the bathroom.

WHEN DOES THE BOYS’ SOCCER PRACTICE GO UNTIL TONIGHT!? mina: ??? NO QUESTIONS. JUST ANSWERS. mina: jiwoong oppa is picking me up at 7. so i assume about 6:30. THANK U BYE and... please be careful around him. mina: yeah, yeah, yeah i’ll use protection ily

totally not what you meant. and you’d hate to break it to her, but after his little stunt on monday, you’re not sure how fond her jiwoong oppa would be of that request.

6:30. practice would start soon, giving you plenty of time to slip into the boys’ locker room, read hanbin’s journal, and slip out undetected. 

you catch a glimpse of yourself in the bathroom mirror.

a raven’s beady eyes stare back.

~

you kill some time in the library, waiting until practice is well underway before making your way across campus to the gymnasium. your heart is already pounding in your ears just thinking about the little heist you’re about to pull.

but your legs keep propelling you forward.

pulling open the building door, you step inside cautiously. the women’s badminton team is stretching in the atrium of the building, but there’s no sign of anyone else. you head right down the hallway, walking past the cardio fitness center and the weight-lifting gym until you’re in front of the boys’ locker room door.

you put an ear to it, hearing nothing but the whirring of a fan on the other side.

fuck it.

you pull open the door and step inside, white and grey tiled walls and rows of blue lockers surrounding you. your heart races as you look back at the door, wondering if it’s not too late to abandon your mission.

you shake your head. no. you need to find that journal.

with a steadying breath, you begin to walk through the first row of lockers. when you don’t spot hanbin’s bag, you proceed to the second row. and then the next. and then the next until you finally spot it.

tucked under the wooden bench running down the middle of the aisle is a familiar brown, leather messenger bag. you run to it, picking it up from the floor and setting it down on the bench. you unclasp the latch on the front of the bag and lift the flap, opening it up and reaching inside it.

your hand hits something... fluffy. you grab the fuzzy item and pull it out, squealing when you see that it’s a tiny, cream-colored hamster plush. it’s the cutest thing you’ve ever seen in your whole goddamn life. 

and you are disappointed to find yourself thinking it bears a striking resemblance to its owner.

you stuff the little hamster back into the bag. as cute as he is, it’s not what you came here for. you gasp when you feel the cold leather-bound journal in your hand, pulling it out hurriedly and examining the cover.

you open the journal, flipping through the pages rashly until you locate an entry with today’s date at the top. it reads:

“if one is a vulture, it’s assumed they’re no good— despite all the research that they’re helpful to earth. does the finch know that if that vulture could, he’d hunt for a mirror and show her her worth? if that finch is a dove, there’d be something that would still keep her away from achieving true mirth. it’s the vultures, she’d cry before she understood: the vulture has always been a sign of rebirth. a dove, raven, vulture, or finch from the woods, the vultures will find her and double their search. but for someone who claims they feel misunderstood, it’s repulsive the lengths she would go to unearth... something that does not belong to that bird. seems the dove was a raven afterall.”

“pretty good, huh?” the sudden voice behind you makes you jump. “wrote it in, like, ten minutes after class. what can i say? i was inspired.”

you don’t turn around. your face is already on fire from how mortified you are. of course, you’d considered the possibility of being caught. but you hadn’t really realized the weight of that consequence until this moment.

“actually, i think it might be even better than the original,” he continues, footsteps echoing against the tiled floors as he draws nearer. “i mean, you really should’ve thought to flesh out those vulture characters a bit. and you didn’t even consider looking up the well-known symbolism behind them.”

a hot breath fans across the back of your neck, causing you to shiver as a hand wraps around the leather-bound journal and pries it from yours.

“i have to admit, i didn’t really think you had it in you,” he says with a chuckle, fingers suddenly hooking into your waistband and turning you around to face him. he’s in his red and white soccer uniform, skin glistening from the practice meet he should be at right now. “but just in case, i wanted to be prepared. write you something worth reading.”

“h-how did you know?” you stutter quietly. “that i—”

“well, you weren’t exactly subtle, now were you?” hanbin smiles but the light doesn’t reach his eyes. “‘you should read your poem, hanbin. i’m sure it’s exciting with the big game coming up’. like you give a fuck about my poetry.”

that last sentence reminds you of what you thought you’d heard him mumble in class today: not like you’d listen to me anyway.

what was that about?

“aw, don’t get sad now that your plan didn’t go your way,” hanbin coos, lifting his hand to caress your cheek. “i thought it was kind of cute. i can forgive you for stealing, right? you just wanted my attention so badly that you had to play a bit dirty.”

you shake your head quickly. “no, it’s not like that! i swear i wasn’t trying to get your attention, i just—”

“well then, jesus fucking christ, what do i have to do to—,” hanbin snaps before promptly cutting himself off. there’s something in his eyes you’ve never seen before: desperation. 

a large hand wraps around your throat in an instant, shoving you up against a blue locker. the motion knocks the wind out of you and you find yourself gasping for air. your hand flies to remove his from around your neck, but he catches it in his free one and brings it gently back down to your side. 

“i told you in class that if you needed help calling off the vultures, you should ask me while you still can,” hanbin rasps, rubbing his thumb up the left side of your throat. “but you weren’t listening, dove. the gulper got first bite. the rippers tore you apart...”

you breathe shallowly, glancing from side to side for some route of escape.

“but now the king has landed,” he says, tongue flitting across his teeth. “and he’s fucking starving.”

you blink at him, lips parted in stupid shock. “i—... i honestly had no idea you knew so much about vultures.”

“THAT’S WHAT YOU TOOK FROM THAT ARE YOU KID—,” he yells, finger pads digging in tighter to the skin of your neck. his gaze falls to your lips, supple and pretty even in fear. he trails down to your shirt, a button-up front that seems to entice him. “take it off.”

“b-but—.”

“take it the fuck off, (y/n). you should know by now how this goes,” hanbin snarls, grabbing your hand and bringing it to the trail of buttons. you start to fiddle with them, but you have some trouble under the pressure of his gaze. “can’t even undo a button? hm? too fucking stupid, dove?”

you find yourself nodding against all odds.

“need binnie to do it for you?” he coos, smile lines illuminating his face again.

you just nod. it seems to be what you do best.

hanbin unfastens the buttons one-handed and with ease. once your shirt is open, he undoes the center clasp of your bra and exposes your chest. then, he sighs with dramatic disappointment. “seriously? that’s it? got me all excited to see your tits and this is what you have to show?”

you look down at your incredibly normal and attractive chest. you’d never really doubted the allure of that part of your body before. should you have?

the humiliating comment causes a lump to form in your throat... and an embarrassingly intense ache to shoot through your heat. 

he tugs the center hem of your shirt, pulling the fabric further off your shoulders. “it’s a good thing the other guys didn’t see them. they’re far more superficial than me. you should be grateful you found a guy who can look past the disappointment. ”

hanbin’s free hand gropes your chest, thumb rubbing circles around one nipple and then the next as you let out a soft whimper.

“mm, i heard that,” he breathes with a smirk. “even though you never hear me. probably didn’t even fucking clock the first line in that stupid poem. but i hear you, dove. so let me give you what you want. all you have to do is ask.”

you gulp, softly responding, “w-want you to... touch me.”

“yeah?” hanbin affirms, finger trailing down your stomach.

you nod again, this time more assuredly under the guise of his encouraging smile. that is, until a harsh slap stings your cheek.

“well that wasn’t a fucking question, was it?” hanbin hisses, rubbing soothing circles into your cheek with his thumb. “you’re in an advanced poetry class and you don’t even know how to form an interrogative sentence? just must be doodling all the time, huh? about all the boys who’ve made a mess of you this week? like the dumb little slut you are.”

hanbin’s free hand slips under your skirt, fingers brushing over your clothed core before pulling it out again. you gasp when you see his fingers already covered in your arousal.

his eyes darken as he reaches up your skirt again, tearing a hole right through your lace panties and stuffing two fingers inside of you immediately as you cry out. 

“oh, dove, why would i wanna put my cock in here, hm? can already feel how much those other assholes have stretched you out,” hanbin says with another sigh of disappointment. 

another bout of worry clouds your mind. was that true? was matthew right? you thought he was just being a misogynistic pig, but... had you really been physically tainted from the events of this week?

“so fucking lucky, dove,” hanbin whispers, removing his hand from your heat and taking one of yours. he brings it down the front of his athletic shorts and then wraps it around his impossibly hard length. you look up at him, wide-eyed. “where every other man would see damaged goods, i see prime real estate.”

“what—”

“gonna fuck you now, m’kay?” hanbin interjects, pulling his shorts down and exposing himself to you. you hadn’t really seen the other boys up close or at all like this. hanbin’s cock is pretty, long with just a few visible veins and a pink head that’s leaking a bit of pre-cum. it makes your mouth water. maybe you are a dumb slut.

maybe you like it like that.

or maybe it’s just hanbin’s large hand covering your throat, pressing at the sides tenderly that’s making you start to feel a bit high. he brings himself to your entrance, lining up the tip and coating it in your juices. he’s about to push himself inside of you, when he suddenly freezes.

“you want me to, right?” hanbin asks, tone suddenly much softer than it was before. his eyes are locked with yours, holding you there with him against the wall of lockers. “you want me inside you? just me. not those other guys? not junseo hyung-nim or—”

BEEEEEEEEEP. BRRANG. BRRANG. BRRANG. BEEEEEEEE....

a fire alarm rips through the locker room, loud and annoying as ever. you try to jump out of hanbin’s grasp, but his hands stay fixed around you. 

“let me... let me go!” you assert, hitting his chest with your palm. the pressure on your neck that felt so good just a few moments ago is now filling you with fear, “are you trying to kill me or something!?”

his brow raises slightly, as if he only just noticed the alarm. his grip loosens and you take the opportunity to scramble away from him. 

“of course i’m not,” he replies dejectedly, re-situating his shorts before huffing, “like you have a body worth going to jail for.”

“oh, shut up,” you retort, rolling your eyes as you race to re-button your shirt. “this is all YOUR fault. whatever’s going on this week, i know you’re behind it. you’ve run out of ideas to keep me small. but i’m not small. in fact, i’m a much bigger person than you are! so... i’m sorry for whatever i did that made you hate me so much in the first place. now, please, let’s get out of here.”

you start to run down the aisle of lockers towards the exit door, but a lack of footsteps behind you causes you to stop and turn back.

“come on,” you urge as hanbin continues to stand in place and stare at you, unmoving. it might be the most infuriating thing he’s done all day. “oh, fucking burn then.”

the tangible anger in your voice startles both of you. hanbin blinks quickly back at you, wide-eyed as if you’ve just slapped him across the face. whoever gave him the right to feel that way is sorely mistaken. you turn back around, throwing over your shoulder:

“are there birds worse than vultures?”

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　

gender neutral version below

EXPLICIT SMUT 18+ WARNINGS: choking (reader receiving and safely executed lmao), chest/abdomen groping (reader receiving; no anatomical descriptions or gender specific language), heavy petting (reader and hanbin receiving), finger penetration (brief, reader receiving), erotic humiliation and degradation (towards reader; regarding looseness of hole (non specific) from desperation and disappointing chest/abdomen region (not related to gender or anatomical gendered parts he's just being a dick to you i hope this makes sense)), slut and whore are also used but not in a gendered context, one slap across face (reader receiving), slight dub-con but we know how reader rolls now lol. hanbin is insanely toxic. enjoy.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　

scribble. scribble. scribble. 

the scratchings of your pencil in your poetry journal are growing increasingly violent. you don’t really care. you’d stayed up all night: tossing and turning and thinking and plotting. 

“hey, uh... you okay?” hanbin asks, tapping you gently with the end of his pen. your pencil falls from your fingers as you’re jolted from your anxious thought spiral. 

“huh?” you reply, blinking at the star of the soccer team. “oh, um. yeah. i’m okay.”

hanbin’s brow raises slightly at your answer as if it surprises him. “you sure?”

“yeah,” you reply as nonchalantly as possible. “why?”

you follow hanbin’s line of sight to the open page of your poetry journal. you’ve absentmindedly ripped a significant hole through several pages with your vortex of nervous scribbling.

you breathe an awkward laugh, closing your journal and putting your pencil down flat on your desk.

“you had a rough week,” hanbin says, grabbing his journal from his bag and placing it on his desk. you bite your cheeks to keep from grinning at the sight of your target. “or so i’ve heard.”

“i’m sure you have,” you mumble, glancing at the tile floor. “i’m sure everybody has.”

“they haven’t,” he replies definitively and you know he’s telling the truth. “i promise they haven’t.”

hanbin was a tricky one. the star of the soccer team and undoubtedly the most popular boy at your university, it comes as no surprise that he was also the makeshift ring leader of his stupid group of friends. keeping that spotlight also meant keeping up appearances. while your other bullies made their distaste for you known whenever possible, hanbin had a different preferred method of torture.

he liked to play nice. compliment your poems. share a laugh... reel you in.

until you were so close, you couldn’t escape. that’s when he’d flip the script on you. 

like when he sent your poem about the boy you liked to the entire university’s mailing list last year. you’d insisted you didn’t feel comfortable sharing it with him. you recoiled with embarrassment at the thought of junseo, your senior lab partner, finding out. but he pushed. made you think you could trust him.

the next day, it was pinned to every bulletin board across campus next to a picture of you that hanbin had taken on your class trip to the national library. like some sort of sick calling card.

junseo sunbae-nim never muttered more than a word to you ever again.

so that’s how all this started. hanbin recruiting his three (and then four) asshole friends in a sudden and violent quest to become the bane of your existence. 

sometimes you still can’t help but wonder if you’d done something to upset him. but you shake off that thought each time. you won’t let him get in your head again so easily.

you’ve about mustered the courage to give hanbin some snarky response when your professor’s chalk hatchings across the blackboard send a hush over the classroom.

“good afternoon, everyone,” professor choi greets happily, underlining today’s date on the board. “let’s jump right in today and start with our weekly journals. please share with your desk partner the poem that this week so far inspired you to write.”

your eyes fix on hanbin’s journal again, anticipation stirring as you think about the clues that could be hidden in his poem this week. could the answers you’re looking for really be inside that black, leather book?

“you should go fi—,” you start to suggest a bit too quietly before hanbin unknowingly cuts you off.

“do you wanna go first?” he asks brightly, smile lines illuminating his soft features. you know you shouldn’t indulge him, but you can never stop the corners of your lips from involuntarily turning up in response. no matter how much you hated him, his fairytale prince looks were undeniable.

“oh, uh,” you stammer, grabbing your journal and flipping it open to your entry from this week. you look at the poem you wrote, eyes scanning over the emotional stanzas as you bite your lip uneasily. “i dunno. i kind of got a bit too... personal this week.”

“oh, you know i don’t mind,” he replies calmly. “that’s what poetry is, right?”

“i’m well aware you don’t mind me spilling personal details to you,” you reply with a glare. “but i mind.”

“(y/n)-sshi,” professor choi’s voice suddenly rings over your shoulder. “let’s get reading, okay? time is limited.”

you swallow hard, looking down at your journal shamefully. “yes, professor-nim.”

“so what’s it called?” hanbin asks as professor choi makes her way back up to her desk, folding his arms across his chest and leaning back into his chair. “your poem?”

“the bird,” you answer softly. “it’s called the bird.”

he nods pensively before gesturing for you to start. you look back down at the page, fingers shaking as you try to hold your journal steady. clearing your throat, you recite:

“from it’s perch at the window, it will never be much. the vultures jeered at it as they circled above. then one flew down— with taloned-hand, he did touch. and a meek little finch turned into a dove. if a dove it can be, it will be it as such. til another vulture fell to his knees with a glove. parted it’s feathers and took it in his clutch. and from the fair bird, made a raven thereof. it needs to change back, so it tries to stay hush. but a third brash vulture throws it off with a shove. the reluctant truth is it’s filling with lust... and it’s growing quite scared of the bird it will become.”

you blink back tears as you close your journal and place it on your desk in front of you. maybe it’s your lack of sleep or the mentally and physically jarring week you’ve had, but reading your poem aloud had left you feeling quite vulnerable.

“that was beautiful, (y/n),” hanbin says suddenly, prying you from your regret. you turn to him, eyes wide as he nods thoughtfully. “i really appreciated the metaphor of the bird. the vultures are considered bad birds, but somehow they changed the subject from an unassuming bird into the more beautiful bird it seemed to want to be... but never thought it could.”

you stare at him as he glances up at the ceiling, those handsome smile lines crinkling his cheeks again.

“funny how things we could perceive as wrong or immoral can actually have a positive effect on us,” he muses with a chuckle. “but it’s only natural for the bird to question that change. it’s done more of that ‘bad’ thing and now it’s afraid it’s been turned into a raven. a bird that’s frightening. or maybe a bird it can’t recognize anymore when it looks in the mirror.”

“it did,” you assert quietly. “it did change the bird.”

“but it sounds like the bird likes that change. at least part of it,” hanbin rebuts, meeting your gaze. “perhaps if it embraces that and sheds it’s own guilt— or molts, if you will— it’ll realize the raven is another distortion of the bird’s own making, just like the finch was. it’ll realize it is the dove and it always has been.”

your lips part as you gape at hanbin in awe. it was hard not to let your guard down with him when he always dissected your poems so intuitively like this. memories of intense public humiliation are the only thing that can keep you grounded.

“or,” he adds, a small smirk upturning the corner of his lips. “i guess it could also realize that ravens and vultures aren’t the bad birds it thinks they are. maybe it finds that, after all this worrying, the bird was meant to be a vulture, too.”

“under a minute left,” professor choi calls out from the front of the classroom.

shit. hanbin had talked so much about your poem that he barely had any time left to share his— the poem you desperately needed to be shared in the first place.

hanbin’s still rambling on about vultures, but you’re not paying any attention as a wave of panic rushes over you. 

“you should share yours still,” you prompt a little too eagerly, cutting him off mid-sentence. trying your best to dial it back, you add, “i’m sure it’s very interesting, what with the big game on saturday and all.”

hanbin smiles, holding your gaze for a moment too long. it’s suspicious, but his eyes give nothing away.

“if it’s okay with you, i’d rather not share this week,” he says, throwing his journal back in his bag. “i got a little too... how did you put it? personal.”

you blink at him. “but—. but that’s what i said and you—.”

hanbin mutters something under his breath that you swear sounds like, “not like you’d listen to me anyway.”

but you must’ve misheard him.

your heart sinks, your plan crumbling to ashes before your eyes as professor choi launches into a lecture about wilfred owen’s 20th century use of assonance. hanbin had to have written something about what his friends had been up to. that’s why he used up so much time focusing on your poem. 

your pencil moves across your paper, absentmindedly taking notes until you reach the only possible conclusion: you can’t give up. you’ll just have to amend the plan.

after class, you hurriedly gather your things and run out the door, pulling your phone out and typing vigorously as you make your way to the bathroom.

WHEN DOES THE BOYS’ SOCCER PRACTICE GO UNTIL TONIGHT!? mina: ??? NO QUESTIONS. JUST ANSWERS. mina: jiwoong oppa is picking me up at 7. so i assume about 6:30. THANK U BYE and... please be careful around him. mina: yeah, yeah, yeah i’ll use protection ily

totally not what you meant. and you’d hate to break it to her, but after his little stunt on monday, you’re not sure how fond her jiwoong oppa would be of that request.

6:30. practice would start soon, giving you plenty of time to slip into the boys’ locker room, read hanbin’s journal, and slip out undetected. 

you catch a glimpse of yourself in the bathroom mirror.

a raven’s beady eyes stare back.

~

you kill some time in the library, waiting until practice is well underway before making your way across campus to the gymnasium. your heart is already pounding in your ears just thinking about the little heist you’re about to pull.

but your legs keep propelling you forward.

pulling open the building door, you step inside cautiously. the women’s badminton team is stretching in the atrium of the building, but there’s no sign of anyone else. you head right down the hallway, walking past the cardio fitness center and the weight-lifting gym until you’re in front of the boys’ locker room door.

you put an ear to it, hearing nothing but the whirring of a fan on the other side.

fuck it.

you pull open the door and step inside, white and grey tiled walls and rows of blue lockers surrounding you. your heart races as you look back at the door, wondering if it’s not too late to abandon your mission.

you shake your head. no. you need to find that journal.

with a steadying breath, you begin to walk through the first row of lockers. when you don’t spot hanbin’s bag, you proceed to the second row. and then the next. and then the next until you finally spot it.

tucked under the wooden bench running down the middle of the aisle is a familiar brown, leather messenger bag. you run to it, picking it up from the floor and setting it down on the bench. you unclasp the latch on the front of the bag and lift the flap, opening it up and reaching inside it.

your hand hits something... fluffy. you grab the fuzzy item and pull it out, squealing when you see that it’s a tiny, cream-colored hamster plush. it’s the cutest thing you’ve ever seen in your whole goddamn life. 

and you are disappointed to find yourself thinking it bears a striking resemblance to its owner.

you stuff the little hamster back into the bag. as cute as he is, it’s not what you came here for. you gasp when you feel the cold leather-bound journal in your hand, pulling it out hurriedly and examining the cover.

you open the journal, flipping through the pages rashly until you locate an entry with today’s date at the top. it reads:

“if one is a vulture, it’s assumed they’re no good— despite all the research that they’re helpful to earth. does the finch know that if that vulture could, he’d hunt for a mirror and show it it’s worth? if that finch is a dove, there’d be something that would still keep it away from achieving true mirth. it’s the vultures, the bird cries before it understood: the vulture has always been a sign of rebirth. a dove, raven, vulture, or finch from the woods, the vultures will find it and double their search. but for someone who claims they feel misunderstood, it’s repulsive the lengths it would go to unearth... something that does not belong to that bird. seems the dove was a raven afterall.”

“pretty good, huh?” the sudden voice behind you makes you jump. “wrote it in, like, ten minutes after class. what can i say? i was inspired.”

you don’t turn around. your face is already on fire from how mortified you are. of course, you’d considered the possibility of being caught. but you hadn’t really realized the weight of that consequence until this moment.

“actually, i think it might be even better than the original,” he continues, footsteps echoing against the tiled floors as he draws nearer. “i mean, you really should’ve thought to flesh out those vulture characters a bit. and you didn’t even consider looking up the well-known symbolism behind them.”

a hot breath fans across the back of your neck, causing you to shiver as a hand wraps around the leather-bound journal and pries it from yours.

“i have to admit, i didn’t really think you had it in you,” he says with a chuckle, fingers suddenly hooking into your waistband and turning you around to face him. he’s in his red and white soccer uniform, skin glistening from the practice meet he should be at right now. “but just in case, i wanted to be prepared. write you something worth reading.”

“h-how did you know?” you stutter quietly. “that i—”

“well, you weren’t exactly subtle, now were you?” hanbin smiles but the light doesn’t reach his eyes. “‘you should read your poem, hanbin. i’m sure it’s exciting with the big game coming up’. like you give a fuck about my poetry.”

that last sentence reminds you of what you thought you’d heard him mumble in class today: not like you’d listen to me anyway.

what was that about?

“aw, don’t get sad now that your plan didn’t go your way,” hanbin coos, lifting his hand to caress your cheek. “i thought it was kind of cute. i can forgive you for stealing, right? you just wanted my attention so badly that you had to play a bit dirty.”

you shake your head quickly. “no, it’s not like that! i swear i wasn’t trying to get your attention, i just—”

“well then, jesus fucking christ, what do i have to do to—,” hanbin snaps before promptly cutting himself off. there’s something in his eyes you’ve never seen before: desperation. 

a large hand wraps around your throat in an instant, shoving you up against a blue locker. the motion knocks the wind out of you and you find yourself gasping for air. your hand flies to remove his from around your neck, but he catches it in his free one and brings it gently back down to your side. 

“i told you in class that if you needed help calling off the vultures, you should ask me while you still can,” hanbin rasps, rubbing his thumb up the left side of your throat. “but you weren’t listening, dove. the gulper got first bite. the rippers tore you apart...”

you breathe shallowly, glancing from side to side for some route of escape.

“but now the king has landed,” he says, tongue flitting across his teeth. “and he’s fucking starving.”

you blink at him, lips parted in stupid shock. “i—... i honestly had no idea you knew so much about vultures.”

“THAT’S WHAT YOU TOOK FROM THAT ARE YOU KID—,” he yells, finger pads digging in tighter to the skin of your neck. his gaze falls to your lips, supple and pretty even in fear. he trails down to your shirt, a button-up front that seems to entice him. “take it off.”

“b-but—.”

“take it the fuck off, (y/n). you should know by now how this goes,” hanbin snarls, grabbing your hand and bringing it to the trail of buttons. you start to fiddle with them, but you have some trouble under the pressure of his gaze. “can’t even undo a button? hm? too fucking stupid, dove?”

you find yourself nodding against all odds.

“need binnie to do it for you?” he coos, smile lines illuminating his face again.

you just nod again. it seems to be what you do best.

hanbin unfastens the buttons one-handed and with ease. once your shirt is open, he tugs it to the side and exposes your chest. then, he sighs with dramatic disappointment. “seriously? that’s it? got me all excited to see how good you look under here and this is what you have to show?”

you look down at your incredibly normal and attractive upper body. you’d never really doubted the aesthetics of it before. should you have?

the humiliating comment causes a lump to form in your throat... and an embarrassingly intense ache to shoot through your heat. 

he tugs the center hem of your shirt, pulling the fabric further off your shoulders. “it’s a good thing the other guys didn’t see this. they’re far more superficial than me. you should be grateful you found a guy who can look past the disappointment. ”

hanbin’s free hand roams across your abdomen and chest, fingers ghosting sweetly against your skin until you let out the tiniest whimper.

“mm, i heard that,” he breathes with a smirk. “even though you never hear me. probably didn’t even fucking clock the first line in that stupid poem. but i hear you, dove. so let me give you what you want. all you have to do is ask.”

you gulp, softly responding, “w-want you to... touch me.”

“yeah?” hanbin affirms, finger trailing down your stomach.

you nod again, this time more assuredly under the guise of his encouraging smile. that is, until a harsh slap stings your cheek.

“well that wasn’t a fucking question, was it?” hanbin hisses, rubbing soothing circles into your cheek with his thumb. “you’re in an advanced poetry class and you don’t even know how to form an interrogative sentence? just must be doodling all the time, huh? about all the boys who’ve made a mess of you this week? like the dumb little slut you are.”

hanbin’s free hand finds it’s way into your jeans, fingers brushing over your clothed core before pulling it out again. you gasp when you see his fingers already covered in your arousal.

his eyes darken as he undoes the button clasp and zipper of your pants, shoving your underwear to the side with his fingers. he forces your legs a bit farther apart before stuffing a finger inside of you, causing you to cry out. 

“oh, dove, why would i wanna put my cock in here, hm? so desperate, i could slip right in,” hanbin says with another sigh of disappointment. “did the other guys really make such a whore of you?”

another bout of worry clouds your mind. was that true? was matthew right? you thought he was just being a red-pilled pig, but... had you somehow been physically tainted from the events of this week?

“so fucking lucky, dove,” hanbin whispers, removing his hand from your center and taking one of yours. he brings it down the front of his athletic shorts and then wraps it around his impossibly hard length. you look up at him, wide-eyed. “where every other man would see damaged goods, i see prime real estate.”

“what—”

“gonna fuck you now, m’kay?” hanbin interjects, pulling his shorts down and exposing himself to you. you hadn’t really seen the other boys up close or at all like this. hanbin’s cock is pretty— long with just a few visible veins and a pink head that’s leaking a bit of pre-cum. it makes your mouth water. maybe you are a dumb slut.

maybe you like it like that.

or maybe it’s just hanbin’s large hand covering your throat, pressing at the sides both tenderly and persistently that’s making you feel a bit high. he brings himself to your entrance, spitting in his hand and covering his length as he lines up the tip. he’s about to push himself inside of you, when he suddenly freezes.

“you want me to, right?” hanbin asks, tone suddenly much softer than it was before. his eyes are locked with yours, holding you there with him against the wall of lockers. “you want me inside you? just me. not those other guys? not junseo hyung-nim or—”

BEEEEEEEEEP. BRRANG. BRRANG. BRRANG. BEEEEEEEE....

a fire alarm rips through the locker room, loud and annoying as ever. you try to jump out of hanbin’s grasp, but his hands stay fixed around you. 

“let me... let me go!” you assert, hitting his chest with your palm. the pressure on your neck that felt so good just a few moments ago is now filling you with fear, “are you trying to kill me or something!?”

his brow raises slightly, as if he only just noticed the alarm. his grip loosens and you take the opportunity to scramble away from him, frantically zipping up your jeans. 

“of course i’m not,” he replies dejectedly, re-situating his shorts before huffing, “like you have a body worth going to jail for.”

“oh, shut up,” you retort, rolling your eyes as you race to re-button your shirt. “this is all YOUR fault. whatever’s going on this week, i know you’re behind it. you’ve run out of ideas to keep me small. but i’m not small. in fact, i’m a much bigger person than you are! so... i’m sorry for whatever i did that made you hate me so much in the first place. now, please, let’s get out of here.”

you start to run down the aisle of lockers towards the exit door, but a lack of footsteps behind you causes you to stop and turn back.

“come on,” you urge as hanbin continues to stand in place and stare at you, unmoving. it might be the most infuriating thing he’s done all day. “oh, fucking burn then.”

the tangible anger in your voice startles both of you. hanbin blinks quickly back at you, wide-eyed as if you’ve just slapped him across the face. whoever gave him the right to feel that way is sorely mistaken. you turn back around, throwing over your shoulder:

“are there birds worse than vultures?”

[haesunflower]

soulmates unfortunately series [the prologue]

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genre: romance/fluff with adult themes pairings: reader x park gunwook, reader x kim taerae, reader x seok matthew, reader x shen ricky. word count: 3.2k warnings: drinking, character death, nsfw mention (no actual smut), underage puppy love, and other adult themes. rating is 16+.

ABOUT. here's the thing about soulmates, once you meet the one that is meant for you, you start to age. the biological clock starts to tick, and you are no longer a fresh faced 20 year old. years go by, and next thing you know it, you've grown old and wrinkly – right next to the love of your life. y/n hated this concept.

y/n has had many soulmates in her lifetime. chapter zero explores the soulmates that came before she stopped believing in the concept entirely.

⋆୨♡୧ series masterlist/about the series. ⋆୨♡୧

You used to believe in the concept of soulmates. 

It could be a beautiful thing, really. In theory, you build your entire future with this person, remaining young until you meet the one that is meant for you. In this world, your biological clock remains frozen – physical and mental aging included.

Life doesn’t start unless you have your other half along with you. Your soulmate. 

Growing up, you hear and experience multiple love stories around you. You are taught to look forward to this life changing moment, watching out for the tell-tale signs of your other half. Your chest tightens around them, pulling you closer, drawing you in. Others say it’s as if the universe is physically trying to draw you closer together. But you liken it more to a ‘gut feeling’; There’s no other way to describe it, you just know. 

That’s how you felt about Park Gunwook – the first boy you ever came to love. The first soulmate. 

PARK GUNWOOK. TWELVE YEARS OLD. YEAR 1920.

Gunwook lived in the same farm town as you, and everyone knew him. 

He was the favorite son in his family. He wasn’t the eldest – but he was reliable even from a very young age. He ran errands for the neighbors often and was kind to all the children and elderly. If anyone needed some help with carrying hay bale, starting a fire, or cleaning out the barn, Park Gunwook was the go-to, in which he happily carried out his duties with a large smile on his face. 

You first met on a sunny day when you had trouble with your farmwork chores. You were struggling to wrangle the pigs back to their pen, tripping over the mud, and eventually falling into a large puddle. 

He must have been watching over from a far, as the next thing you know an, arm is outstretched to you. “Need some help, Y/N?” 

You look up to see Gunwook, and you take his hand so he can hoist you up from the mud puddle.

“You know my name?” you ask innocently. Gunwook was fifteen at the time, and you, only twelve. 

“Silly girl, of course I know you.” he says as he fixes the bangs on your forehead, temporarily disheveled by the fall. At that moment, you felt it. The undeniable tug at your chest, drawing you to him. You had a feeling he was your soulmate, and your cheeks warmed at the thought.

You reckon he felt the same. For as the years went by, he stayed as a close friend to you. 

When you reached fifteen years old, marrying age, he started to see you more often. 

He would ask you to join him as he saddled up the horses by the stable, and you’d ask him to accompany you as you picked flowers by the meadow. You often talked about your dreams of seeing the world, leaving this small town and meeting new people. You dreamt of seeing all sorts of buildings, appreciating all kinds of art, trying new food, and experiencing new music. He always listened to you in awe, smiling at how passionate you become when talking about your dreams. He knows it’s your favorite thing to talk about.  

Gunwook on the other hand, spoke about inheriting the farm land from his father. He excitedly spoke about starting a little bed and breakfast inn where he could increase tourism in the area, allowing other folk to come experience the beauty of farm life. He once showed you the blueprint sketches he had of his proposed business venture, and with a gummy smile on his face, pointed to a house right by the meadow where your favorite flowers resided, “and here’s where we would live” he said. his cheeks were flushed red, nervous to see your reaction.

It was beautiful. He had promised to build it for you, confirming that he too, felt the same about you. That the both of you were meant to be together. 

“I know you’ve always wanted to get out of here. So I’ll save up for it, and we can both go on a large adventure someday” he reassures you. 

But you pictured the little farmhouse by the meadow where the two of you would live, running the bed and breakfast, and caring for the horses, pigs, and sheep. You suddenly didn’t mind having this quaint little life at all. 

“It’s perfect, Gunwook. I love it.” You reassured him too. 

Sadly, these were the last words you shared with him. The wedding never happened, the house was never built, and you were unable to experience being loved by Gunwook like you were meant to. 

Gunwook died the next morning, at the age of 18 years old. He was helping out the local lumberjack with a project in the forest, and fell victim to a horrible accident. The townspeople and your family spared you of the gory details, so you never got the full story of how he passed away. 

All you remember from that day was waking up and immediately feeling an emptiness in your heart. The tug at your chest was gone, a confirmation that he was dead. You cried. 

You wondered if the universe was giving you a sign, an out from the farm town life that you dreamed of leaving. And you couldn’t help but think: what a sick, twisted, way to communicate, universe.

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You tried to continue living life as you once knew it. But everything in this small town reminded you of Gunwook. You’d often visit the meadow where your forever house with him was meant to stand, journalling or speaking to the wind – hoping Gunwook would hear you. 

Your family let you grieve for two whole years, allowing the pain to fully wash over you so that you can learn to move on. Gunwook was your soulmate, everyone knew that. And at that time, the concept of having more than one soulmate was unheard of. You had already lost yours, and there was no way the universe would have another one for you. 

You weren’t exactly a widow, so you would have to live life as an unmarried woman – which was difficult in that day and age. This is why your father and mother brought up the prospect of arranged marriage, even if it’s just for the sake of living comfortably. You agreed. 

KIM TAERAE. SEVENTEEN YEARS OLD. YEAR 1925.

You came to know Kim Taerae at seventeen years old, when your father was sorting out marriage candidates. He had visited a local psychic who had given a shortlist of all the eligible bachelors in the area who would be the perfect match for you – insisting that ‘your soulmate would be one of the names on the list’. 

You would have called her a quack if the list didn’t include a certain Kim Taerae, a young gentleman three years older, who had a voice of an angel. You officially met at a chaperoned luncheon, with both your parents and his. He was soft, kind hearted, and had a gentle nature to him. 

You met several times after that before your families settled the marriage agreements. You didn’t mind marrying Taerae, in fact, you were scared to admit that he might actually be your soulmate too after all. You felt it during your first few meetings without your parents, the familiar pull at your chest. Eventually soothed by his singing and soft hums he would whisper into your hair. 

“Do you think we could be soulmates, Y/N?” he asked you one evening, you were both sitting on the porch of your family home with the stars as your audience. While he strongly believed you were his soulmate, you had a hard time. You weren’t sure if the universe allowed such a thing. 

“I don’t know, Taerae. I wonder if the universe is kind enough to gift you as my soulmate” you truly meant your words. He knew about your trauma with losing Gunwook, and would often accompany you as you visited his grave. He’s been patient with you, and was content with spending the rest of his life loving you, even if you weren’t soulmates. You felt the same way. 

That year, Taerae turned 21 years old. He was a year older, no longer frozen at 20. Likewise, you turned 18 years old. He got his blood tested to ensure the aging wasn’t a placebo effect, that there was indeed biological change. 

Everyone celebrated Taerae’s aging, the confirmation that the both of you were truly soulmates. You couldn’t believe it at first, but considered it as the universe’s way of saying ‘sorry’ for the loss of your first one. 

Taerae was excited to build a future with you. He even bought a house for the two of you at the capital of the country, and you were both eager to experience city life as a married couple. But that day never came. He died from a tragic car accident, a drunk driver crashed into his vehicle when he was on his way to see you. 

You woke up that day feeling like you were stuck in a recurring nighmare. You were drenched in sweat, and let out the most gut-wrenching scream of grief. You despised how this was all too familiar to you, the loss of the comforting tug at your chest. Taerae was dead, and you wailed for him.  

The car company gave you a free vehicle as part of the grievance. As if a free car would cure the immense grief and anger you had been feeling. To make matters worse, the community mocked you with a new nickname: soulmate killer. Because the mere idea of being your soulmate was an automatic death sentence. 

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You hated the universe. You were angry at its seeming generosity, rather cruelty of losing two soulmates at only 18 years old. 

After Taerae died, your family felt anguish for you. They had immense sympathy, and let you do whatever you wanted to do. You spent another two years grieving Taerae. Though you mostly stayed at home, staring into empty space. You still visited the meadow, this time with a guitar in hand to strum familiar melodies as you thought about the two men you loved. You felt that it was only fair to Taerae that way – if you had grieved him the same way you grieved Gunwook. 

It took you years before you could even feel like yourself again. 

In 1930, you would have been 23 years old. But you still look, act, and feel like a 20 year old. As if the universe was mocking your unfortunate situation. As if aging was a reward and a privilege you receive after meeting the love of your life. As if the universe was blissfully unaware that you have been ripped away from the opportunity thanks to its cruelty. 

You revisited your journal entries from when you were fifteen, talking about your big dream of seeing the world. You felt cursed, and you were determined to make the most of the seemingly short life you would have. After all, if your soulmates kept dying on you – who is to say that you aren’t next? 

So you took your free car, and set off on a road trip. And that’s when you met Seok Matthew, a man who sadly, understood you a little too well. 

SEOK MATTHEW. TWENTY YEARS OLD. 1930.

Matthew’s soulmate also died in a car accident earlier that year. His chosen method of grieving was to travel the world – discovering new places and meeting all sorts of people. That’s how the two of you met, line dancing somewhere in the south america. 

Matthew wasn’t your soulmate, you knew that for sure. But you spent the next five years traveling the world together, making love in cities he took you, and living life as reckless twenty somethings. With him, you were finally able to live out your dream. 

As you lay naked in the arms of Matthew in a hotel somewhere in Paris, he asked you “what if one day, one of us meets our soulmate?”. You adjust yourself to see him more clearly, fingers softly running through his hair. The thought has crossed your mind before, more for Matthew’s sake than your own. 

“It’s been five years Matt, I highly doubt I’m going to meet anyone else. But you might.” you try to foster a small smile, reassuring him he could still have a chance. Matthew has only lost one soulmate, while you’ve lost two. 

“No, I’d never leave you.” He sits up, a large pout on his face. His stubbornness amuses you. 

“That’s what you say now, sweetie.” you laugh as you kiss his pout away. "and you know it's probably for the best, people in my hometown call me soulmate killer, you know?" you try to play it off as a joke.

"soulmate killer? that's cruel. it's not your fault y/n. you know that right?" Matthew's brows are furrowed. You smile as you hold his face, releasing the tension in his forehead by massaging his eyebrows with your thumbs.

That night, he promised to stay in your life no matter what. 

But this promise turned hazy when on one of your trips to South Asia, he met the actual love of his life. You didn’t protest when he came back to your dingy hotel, head down and in tears. You didn’t argue as you watched him pack his bags, for a trip that you weren’t going to be part of. And you didn’t push him away when he asked to kiss you one last time before he left. You let him go, and you sobbed out of loneliness. 

Kudos to Matthew, he did keep his promise. He sent letters every few months to your PO Box, but you didn’t have the heart to open all of it. Last you’ve heard, they had baby number one on the way – and that was your last straw. You changed PO Box addresses shortly after that, unbeknownst to Matthew, who still sent you letters every year until his eventual death. 

This was the first man in your life to have a happy ending. He died of old age, with 3 children and 10 grandchildren. 

Something changed in the five years you spent with Matthew. More than falling in love with a person who wasn’t your soulmate, you fell in love with the world. You could never, ever imagine yourself going back to the domesticated life at home. The years after Matthew turned you into a cynic, and you didn’t believe in love anymore either. 

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PRESENT DAY. 2023.

“Got anything that’ll get me drunk in the next ten minutes?” 

You plopped down on the bar stool, haphazardly placing your purse next to you. The bartender is eyeing you strangely, as if in disbelief that you’re even inside their establishment. 

You sigh and pull out your identification card, a laminated piece of junk that tells you how old you really are. Scratch that, how old you are meant to be. He picks up the card and raises it up next to your face, comparing the woman in the picture to your face. It reminds you that you need to get it renewed…again. After all, the last time you updated your photo was sometime in the 80s. True enough, your ID card reflects a version of you with big hair and large colorful earrings. You don’t blame him for wanting to double check, contrasting the all black ensemble you have currently. 

“Listen pal, I just buried my daughter today. I would appreciate it if you could get on with it”. You might not blame him, but you are impatient. 

He slides your ID card back and pours you a whiskey on the rocks. “Sorry for your loss ma’am” he solemnly extends his condolences as he places your drink in front of you. You pick it up, raising it and nodding a “thank you” before taking a large gulp. It burns. 

You outlived your daughter. And you wonder if you’ve been going about life in all the wrong ways. Atop the alcohol display at the bar is a small TV, flashing a report about a young woman named Somi who was murdered and found dead at her home – leaving her husband a widower. The news station flashed a photo of the blonde couple, sharing that they had just gotten married a week ago. She was beautiful. A shame. 

As the news report slowly drowns you, your mind confronts you with the memories of your past soulmates and lovers. 

PARK GUNWOOK. The soulmate you never got the chance to fully love, and died in the year 1923. 

KIM TAERAE. The soulmate who was your second chance at life, and passed away in 1928. 

SEOK MATTHEW. Who helped you live out your dreams from 1930 to 1935. 

KIM JIWOONG. A man you married in the year 1940, who died from alcohol poisioning that same year. 

ZHANG HAO. The one who gave you your daughter in 1952, but unfortunately fell victim to a house fire. 

SUNG HANBIN. The husband that raised your daughter like his very own. But experienced a very fatal heart attack on the day of your daughter’s wedding in 1973.

Of course, there were others – flings and boytoys along the way. None of which were worth reminiscing about, except maybe for Kim Gyuvin. 

At that moment, a tall man enters the bar and decides to take a seat next to you. His presence effectively drew you out from the thoughts circling your brain. Other than the fact that he too, is dressed in all black – you feel a deeper sense of similarity. Like kindred spirits, you recognize broken souls like yours. You order two more rounds of the whiskey the bartender gave you. 

“I heard about your late wife in the news, I’m sorry for your loss.” You feign sympathy and slide the glass to the man next to you. 

He looks taken aback at first, but accepts your offer. Now facing you, he raises his drink to you. You do the same. He’s strikingly handsome, with platinum hair and dark eyebrows. You also don’t miss that he’s dressed in Yves Saint Laurent from head to toe. He takes a peek at your ID card still laying on the table, making sure to catch your name. 

“Next one’s on me, Y/N” he says, taking another swig at his whiskey, finishing his glass. He calls on the bartender, and buys an entire bottle for the two of you. The bartender returns his credit card, with the name ‘Shen Quanrui’ engraved. 

“Thank you Quanrui, that’s very generous of you.” 

He puts on a small smile, almost no one calls him by his legal name. “You can call me Ricky” he says as he pours into your glass. 

“Alright Ricky. Here’s to life.” you raise up. It feels inappropriate to be clinking glasses on the day you buried your daughter, but you figured you could make an exemption. Ricky too, seemed to be going through the same thing with his late wife. 

“To life.” he responds, tapping his glass against yours. 

Just two broken souls who had lost someone important in their lives, drinking to fill the hollowness. You almost don’t feel the familiar bloom in your chest, tugging at your entire being like a magnet trying to find its other half. And if you do feel it, you pretend it’s the whiskey burning its place in your heart. 

RICKY SHEN. TWENTY YEARS OLD. 2023. The man who you assume to be your next soulmate. 

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[dalliesque]

Fairy's Love Tale

✴ sypnosis you, a fairy from another dimension, was sent to earth with one simple mission. falling in love with the help of cupid himself, you slowly starts to adjust. expanding your vocabulary day by day. and finally lock eyes with your love interest. the question is would you be able to complete the mission well? or would you fail and have to return to your previous dimension? and maybe.. forget the fuzzy memories you've made?

#1 soo what's riize?

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@whokilledyuyan

2024 © leehanascent do not copy | translate with and without credits !

[jebewonmorelike]

✰⋆⁺ Steal Your Heart ⁺⋆✰

*ੈ Part Three: The Magician ♡ Han Yujin

♡ Steal Your Heart Masterlist

♡ Read this Introductory Post and the Masterlist for details!

♡ Read Part One, Part Two (Gyuvin), and Part Three (Jiwoong) Here!

˚☽˚｡⋆ Steal Your Heart: An Interactive Fanfiction Game

... Collect Points to Determine Your Love Interest and Special Ending!!

⁺⋆✰ wc: 9.5k (sorry it took so long but i had panic attacks for a month straight. pls enjoy, i know the chapters just get longer. sorry. i promise they're good though!)

⁺⋆✰ reader-insert pronouns: none used; n/a -- reader is the 10th member of AU ZB1, but the group is referred to only as an "idol" group. no mentions or descriptions of gender of reader.

⁺⋆✰ chapter warnings: crime (reader was wrongfully convicted of a crime), swearing, injury/vague descriptions of blood, suggestion of a drinking problem, mild violence, angst, the choice *ugh, fine* is for kids only (light yujin romance), and lots of really funny and insane shenanigans! all ages welcome; pg-13+ themes.

⁺⋆✰ summary: for series summary click here. jiwoong, gyuvin, and (y/n) are now fully awakened to their powers in the metaverse, confronting their company's president head-on as the fate of au!zb1 lies in their hands. youngest member of zb1, han yujin, has been enjoying his time at university during the group's hiatus. what happens when a wrench is thrown into his plans? inspired by the jrpg persona 5.

⁺⋆✰ please download the scoresheet for the game here!

・゜゜ . . * ✧･ﾟ・ ✧･ﾟ: ・゜゜・．

Welcome back, Player! Get your scoresheet ready-- are you ready to start the fourth installment of our game? Soon we'll get to see how your Chapter Choice from Part Three plays out! Remember to tally your points on your scoresheet! I think it's time we heard from our youngest member, don't you agree?

JUNE 21st -- AFTERNOON

Yujin had begged Manager Sang to let him miss today’s company meeting. He assumed they’d just be receiving more vaguely discouraging news from President Kim like they usually did every few weeks, so what was the point of going anyway? 

Total Control were just counting down the days until ZeroBaseOne’s contracts expired at this point. That way they could finally pawn off Gunwook and himself to the highest bidding company for re-debut and push Hao as fully a soloist.

But after a semester exploring an incredible gift of an opportunity he had been given, Yujin wasn’t even sure if he wanted to redebut anymore.

From the start, Yujin had only wanted to be in ZeroBaseOne. He was barely in high school when Total Control’s survival show changed his life forever. His members became his friends and often his parents-by-proxy. Obviously, he didn’t need that sort of coddling anymore, but it never stopped them from pinching his cheeks and cooing at him affectionately as he seethed.

Despite his annoying members and the indefinite hiatus of the group, Yujin could imagine less and less having an idol career separate from the incredibly dysfunctional family you all had formed throughout the years.

But the inherent need to dance still called unshakably to him. And that’s where attending university had swooped in to save him…

When Yujin auditioned for the Dance Performance major at the Korean National University of Arts in the winter, he’d been automatically waitlisted. It broke his heart, but he ultimately knew he wouldn’t have been able to afford university anyway-- what with the debt he owed the company continuing to pile up and all.

No work, no pay. For anyone. 

Manager Sang had somehow caught word of this and held a meeting with the upper management of Total Control right away. When President Kim called Yujin into his executive office the following week and told him that the company would pay his university tuition if he eventually passed the Dance Performance major audition, the youngest member of ZeroBaseOne was shocked. 

He’d always thought of President Kim as a bit of a blowhard, so this seemingly benevolent opportunity left him a bit shaken. So shaken that Yujin could barely focus on reading or interpreting the lengthy contract shoved immediately in front of him.

Luckily, Manager Sang was there to explain it to him and, after assuring he found no pitfalls in it, Yujin shakily signed his name on the dotted line in a happy daze.

That had been the only good news Yujin had received from the company since your... accident. So he almost threw up from whiplash after President Kim announced half an hour ago in the company boardroom that all ZeroBaseOne members (the ones not currently serving time for a felony, of course) would start preparing for a comeback by the start of next week. 

Yujin had come straight to the company after his calculus exam that afternoon feeling positive that his efforts had yielded him good results. There had been no doubt in his mind that he’d ace his audition for the Dance Performance department after the meeting at Total Control, but a full hyperventilation episode in the bathroom later has Yujin currently sprinting down the street-- three minutes late for his audition appointment.

“Han Yujin-sshi?” A feminine voice is calling as Yujin nearly collapses into the university’s main auditorium. The tone of the voice suggests that it’s called his name several times already. Yujin bows furiously in apology at the judges’ panel as he runs down the aisle, throwing his duffel bag down haphazardly on a theater seat and unlacing his shoes like he’s gunning for a world record. 

He clambers up onto the stage, gulping when he suddenly remembers how big the auditorium is-- something that would never have bothered him a year ago. Yujin had been practicing almost every night for at least nine weeks with Hanbin at his dance studio, perfecting his audition routine until there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that he would make the cut.

Yujin had pulled an all-nighter studying for his calculus final last night, but Hanbin had reassured him that he had nothing to worry about.

“You know what you have to do,” Hanbin said, running his hand through Yujin’s hair fondly. “Nothing’s gonna get in the way of this between now and tomorrow. Believe in yourself. You’re a shoe-in.”

Hanbin could never have predicted the news they’d received this afternoon and the pained look in his eyes from across the conference room said it all.

“I am new student, Han Yujin,” he introduces himself a bit robotically to the panel of six judges in front of him. He knows a couple of them from his elective dance classes this past semester, but most of the other judges are higher-ups in the department that he’d only seen at his previous failed audition. There’s a wave of nausea in Yujin’s stomach and he quietly swallows it down. “I am eighteen years old and I have been dancing since I was in middle school. I’m grateful for the opportunity to display my skills to the judges and I will work hard to be a member of the Dance Performance school.”

Yujin waits for the music to start in his opening stance but when it doesn’t, he realizes there’s whispering coming from the judges’ table. 

“Excuse me, Han Yujin-sshi,” a rather stern-looking older man that Yujin doesn’t recognize calls out to him. The hopeful student brings his arms back to his side, nodding compliantly at him. “Are you the idol Han Yujin?”

Yujin bows quickly. “Yes, sir. I am Han Yujin of idol group ZeroBaseOne.”

“I see,” the older man replies, whispering something to the woman beside him before meeting Yujin’s gaze again. “I’ve heard your group has made quite the mess of yourselves. I’m surprised you admitted to your membership under these circumstances, but I respect the honesty nonetheless. Please continue with your performance, Han Yujin-sshi.”

The audition is a blur. The music comes on and Yujin performs his routine, but his mind is everywhere but the auditorium. Instead, he’s thinking about the judge’s comments, Hanbin’s look of pity across the boardroom, the air in his lungs that never seems like it’s enough, the thought of not being able to go to university anymore...

The monthly envelopes of cash that his parents have to send him so that he can eat...

The otherworldly roar of the crowd only a little over a year ago when ZeroBaseOne performed a sold-out encore show at the Skydome...  

The bloodcurdling sound of you screaming your lungs out wafting all the way to the police station waiting room as you plead your innocence...

“Thank you, Yujin-sshi. We’ll look forward to seeing your continued improvement at our next audition.”

JUNE 21st -- EVENING

Yujin stands outside the door of your dorm building, stuck ruminating about whether or not to go inside. On one hand, if he went inside he’d have to tell everyone about his failure. But on the other hand, he could go to sleep in his perfect, warm bed and (hopefully) never wake up.

He takes a deep breath. Maybe he could avoid everyone if he just kept his head down and made a beeline straight to his room.

Yujin opens the door, ready to make a run for it when he comes face to face with…

Let's find out the effects of your Chapter Choice for Part Three, Player! To refresh your memory, Choice 1 was to make Jiwoong do Lots of Aegyo while Choice 2 was to request A Kiss.

⁺⋆✰ If You Chose “LOTS OF AEGYO”:

“You—,” Jiwoong stutters, taking a step back. “You wouldn’t. You couldn’t.”

“I can,” you affirm with an evil smile. “And I will. And I’ll also film it and make you post it.”

“But… But I have a reputation to uphold!” Jiwoong protests, running his hands through his hair in anguish.

“Do you?” You and Gyuvin snort at the same time.

“Oh, shut up,” Jiwoong spits, shaking his head in disbelief. “Why couldn’t you have asked me to, like… make your bed… or… I dunno, like, kiss you or something?”

“WhAt,” you squeak. “Why would I ask you to kiss me?”

“I dunno, you probably can’t get anyone else to,” Jiwoong replies with a shrug, his ears turning crimson. “Okay, can we just get on with the aegyo?”

“Yeah, can we?” Gyuvin seconds with a huff.

“Yeah… Yeah, okay,” you agree, pulling out your phone and opening the camera app. “Can you do a cheek poke?”

Jiwoong sulks, puffing out his cheek and poking it with his index finger. He looks like a depressed toddler. You take a pic.

“Uh, how about a finger heart?” Gyuvin suggests with a shrug as he stares at Jiwoong like his hyung has three heads. 

Jiwoong makes a finger heart with his right hand, positioning it in front of his face as he continues to frown. 

“Can you just f*cking lighten up for a second?” You ask, lowering your phone. “Is it that hard? Do I need to physically force you to look happy?”

“Happiness wasn’t part of the deal,” Jiwoong replies with a smirk, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“No, no, no, no— get those hands out of your pockets! I’m not done with you!” You shout, walking over to Jiwoong and prying both of his hands back into the open. You form a ‘C’ with each of his hands and stick them to each of his cheeks. “Ohhhh, soooo cute Jiwoongie!”

Jiwoong is placated as he stares back at you, doe-eyed as you take a picture. It’s as good as you’re gonna get.

You send it to him and then grab his phone from his hands, making sure he opens Instagram to post it. Once you hand it back to him, you watch attentively as he types a caption and posts the aegyo picture.

“Aren’t you just the cutest baby boy in the whole world?” You tease as Jiwoong turns red again, rubbing it in as much as possible while you have the opportunity. “Jiwoongie is sooo adorable, I could just. Eat. Him. Right. Up.”

Your bond with Jiwoong has grown stronger. +0 Jiwoong Point. 

・゜゜ . . * ✧･ﾟ・ ✧･ﾟ: ・゜゜・．

⁺⋆✰ If You Chose “A KISS”:

“A WHAT!?” Gyuvin shouts, your hand flying to cover his mouth. You definitely don’t need to attract the attention of anyone else in the dorm right now. Still, your tallest friend continues to protest, “MMWHHMM!”

Jiwoong just blinks at you, eyes widening a bit in nervous surprise. “Are you—… are you serious?”

Gyuvin’s hand closes around yours, prying it off of his mouth. “I’d f*cking love to hear the answer to that question as well, actually.”

“Well, I know it’s a large price to pay and might even be too much to ask in exchange for joining the Phantom Thieves,” you explain, glaring at Gyuvin as he slowly catches on. “Clearly, Jiwoong is shocked and disgusted by this proposition so—.”

“I am?” Jiwoong interrupts.

“Yes! Exactly! You are,” you agree enthusiastically, not realizing that Jiwoong’s statement had actually been a question. “So it seems like you aren’t going to be able to join the Phantom Thieves after all! Oh noooo! This is terrible news. But since you really don’t want to kiss me—.”

“Who said I don’t wanna kiss you, (Y/N)?” Jiwoong interrupts again, a dangerous smirk now turning up one corner of his lips. “Would be a lot more fun than listening to the two of you keep yapping.”

You’re silent, suddenly aware of the possibility you might be caught in your own trap. Jiwoong’s arms fold across his chest— one eyebrow arching smugly. Even though he had spent the better part of a year ignoring you and talking about you behind your back, you should’ve known that Jiwoong would somehow still be down to kiss you.

He’s down to kiss everyone. 

“In fact, the only one who said I don’t wanna kiss you, is you,” Jiwoong continues, taking a step towards you. “And how funny is it that you’re the one who suggested it in the first place? Maybe you’ve been thinking about kissing me this whole time.”

“That’s enough, hyung,” Gyuvin warns, large hand resting on Jiwoong’s shoulder. “We’ll just pick something else.”

As Gyuvin starts to turn you back around to discuss a different price, Jiwoong suddenly pipes up.

“W-wait! Wait. Just wait a minute,” he says, both hands extended in front of him. This is not the stance of someone with the upperhand. “You… you already picked the price! N-no take backs! Yeah, I said it. Get over here and kiss me, (Y/N).”

“I can do literally whatever I want to actually,” you respond with a shrug. “And now that you made fun of me, I’m gonna make the price MUCH worse now.”

“NO! No, (Y/N), please,” Jiwoong begs, closing the distance between you as he places his hands on both of your shoulders and shakes them. “Just let me kiss you! PLEASE, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, LET ME KISS YOU!”

You have to admit, it’s a pretty nice ego stroke to have Jiwoong desperate to kiss you. Not to mention, he does look a lot more handsome when he’s not esophagus-deep in a drunken bar hook-up. 

A lot more like himself, too.

You lean in. 

Closer.

Even closer.

And place the teensiest, tiniest peck on Jiwoong’s pretty, pink lips.

Your bond with Jiwoong has grown stronger. +1 Jiwoong Point. Please add +1 Jiwoong Point to your scoresheet.

“Oh my god,” Gyuvin says.

“Oh my god,” Jiwoong says.

“Oh my god,” you say.

・゜゜ . . * ✧･ﾟ・ ✧･ﾟ: ・゜゜・．

All Continue Reading Below

“Remind me to apply for on-campus living next semester,” Yujin huffs with disgust, dropping his duffel bag in the middle of the hallway.

“Yujin-ah!” Gyuvin exclaims, you and Jiwoong jumping back to find your youngest member standing hollow-eyed at the floor. “How—… how long have you been standing there, buddy?”

Yujin shrugs. “I dunno, a minute or so.”

Sh*t. There’s literally no way he hadn’t just heard you speak. The three of you wait in silence for the youngest to comment on it.

“If you’re waiting for me to congratulate you about getting your voice back,” Yujin says, eyes glued to the floor, “I literally could not give a flying f*ck about it.”

You breathe a collective sigh of relief. Indifference was usually what you could expect from Yujin and, though it hurts you most of the time, you couldn’t be more grateful for it right now.

“So… you won’t tell anyone about it?” You request, smiling sweetly at your maknae.

“Whatever,” Yujin replies with a roll of his eyes. You’re fairly certain you can interpret this angsty teenager response to mean something like ‘okay’.

The door flies open, a panicked Hanbin scrambling through and into the hallway. “HOWDIDITGOWEREYOULATEAFTERTHEMEETINGWEREYOUTOOUPSETTOPERFORMWELLDIDYOUMAKEITINTOTHEPROGRAM?”

F*ck. Yujin’s audition was today. You instantly feel bad for forgetting.

Yujin shakes his head back and forth just once. So that’s why he was being extra mopey and aloof. He’d worked so hard. Poor thing.

You all sit in the awkward air until Hanbin finally says, “There’s beef marinating in the fridge. I’ll go cook it.”

“BEEF,” Gyuvin yells, pumping his fist up to the sky triumphantly. You grab his arm and force it back down to his side, trying your best to be mindful of Yujin’s feelings. It’s too little too late though and Yujin lets out a long sigh before walking off down the hallway to his room.

“Do you have kimchi?” Jiwoong calls as Hanbin traipses off to the kitchen. “I think you should check if there’s any kimchi left. Someone might have… eaten it for lunch… or something.”

“All of it!? I bought that big container two days ago,” Hanbin calls back. “You and Gyuvin go buy some then! (Y/N), can you come help me, please?”

You start to make your way to the kitchen, but a large hand on your shoulder stops you. Gyuvin’s lips are pressed together nervously as he blinks back at you. “Oh um, (Y/N)? There’s something I need to tell you before--.”

“C’mon! Whatever it is, it can wait. Kimchi can not,” Jiwoong hurries, grabbing Gyuvin and pulling your best friend out the door behind him.

“So, what happened at the company meeting today?” The robotic voice of your phone screenreader rings out, cutting through the sizzling of oil in the skillet pan. 

The piece of meat that Hanbin’s holding falls from his hand and splashes back into the bowl of bulgogi marinade. He fishes it back out without looking up at you, calmly replying, “Oh, it was just a regular meeting.”

You nod, aware that Hanbin’s lying to you but unsure as to why. You type again and hit play: “Why would Yujin have gotten ‘upset’ after ‘just a regular meeting’?”

Hanbin places another strip of beef into the skillet, turning up the heat. “Can you get more vegetable oil, please? There’s a new bottle in the hallway closet.”

You press your lips together, walking out of the kitchen and to the hallway closet. You open the door, locating the unopened bottle of oil on the third shelf when a series of buzzes in your pocket grabs your attention.

“(Y/N), can you hurry?” Hanbin calls from the kitchen. “I need to put more in now!”

Buzz, buzz. Buzz, buzz. Buzz, buzz.

It seems urgent. And vaguely Canadian.

Mini-Decision: Would you rather be Hanbin’s Helper or reply to those Matt-sterious Texts?

If you chose "Hanbin's Helper", read below:

You shrug, deciding the texts will have to wait for this moment. If someone was dying, then maybe it was just their time.

Running back to the kitchen with the vegetable oil bottle, you toss it to Hanbin who lets out a little panicked yelp before catching it easily in one hand.

“Thank you, honey,” he says, cracking the seal on the bottle and pouring in a liberal amount of oil. “I can always count on you!”

Your bond with Hanbin has grown stronger. +1 Hanbin Point. Please add +1 Hanbin Point to your scoresheet.

You grin, standing next to Hanbin and resting your head on his shoulder. He chuckles at your rare display of affection.

You finally pull out your phone and read the urgent series of texts…

“Something did happen today,” Hanbin says softly, placing more beef into the pan. “At the meeting. I’m sure you could already tell.”

You nod, quietly watching the oil bubble around the meat.

“Gyubinnie didn’t say anything to you though?” He asks with a pout. “He always spills the beans to you. I wonder why he didn’t tell you yet.”

Maybe he was trying to, you think.

“But I’d imagine it’s the same reason that I don’t want to tell you,” Hanbin continues with a laugh. “The truth is, I never saw this coming, lovey. I don’t know what we’re gonna do.”

You lock eyes with him, brow furrowed with concern as your face pleads for him to tell you.

Hanbin swallows, appearing nervous again. “I don’t want to be doing this unless it’s all of us. Together. It’s not right any other way.”

Your bond with Hanbin has grown stronger. +1 Hanbin Point. Please add +1 Hanbin Point to your scoresheet.

・゜゜ . . * ✧･ﾟ・ ✧･ﾟ: ・゜゜・．

If you chose "Matt-sterious Texts", read below:

Your fear of Hanbin’s scolding is strong, but your curiosity about the multiple buzzing texts in your pocket is undoubtedly stronger.

Pulling out your phone, you read the series of urgent texts…

Your bond with Matthew has grown stronger. +1 Matthew Point. Please add +1 Matthew Point to your scoresheet. 

What did Matt mean by that? Things might get even harder on me now?

“F*ck, the vegetable oil,” you whisper, grabbing the bottle and sprinting towards the kitchen. You stop dead in your tracks when you find Hanbin glaring at you, hand on his hip in the sassiest stance a man could possibly take.

You wince at him, sheepishly walking up to him and handing him the unopened bottle.

“Seriously? I had to turn the burner off,” he scolds as he takes the bottle, turning around and resuming his pan frying. “If you’re not going to be helpful, then just sit over there so you don’t keep f*cking things up.”

Hanbin could have a viper tongue when he was mad. Fortunately, he knew this about himself and he was already turning around to apologize as soon as the words came out of his mouth.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t soon enough to keep a tear from rolling down your cheek. 

“Ohhhh, no,” Hanbin coos, pulling you in for a hug immediately and cradling your head to his chest. “I’m so sorry, honey. I didn’t mean that.”

He holds you close to his side as he turns you both around so he can cook and dote on you simultaneously. “Are you okay, (Y/N)? Did something distract you earlier?”

You nod slowly into his shoulder, pulling out your phone and holding up the texts from Matthew so Hanbin can read them.

“Ahhh, I see,” he says, patting your head. “This would be pretty bothersome to read, huh?”

You gulp sadly, a little pout on your lips that Hanbin absolutely lights up at.

“I’ll bring Matthew’s papers to the company,” he assures quickly. “And I guess I should explain what’s going on to you, too. I really don’t want to be the bearer of tough news, but you deserve to know.”

・゜゜ . . * ✧･ﾟ・ ✧･ﾟ: ・゜゜・．

All Continue Reading Below

“What he’s trying to say is, we’re having a comeback,” Yujin announces unceremoniously as he sits down at the kitchen table. Hanbin turns around and glares at him but Yujin just shrugs. “What? You were gonna find out eventually that you’re getting left in the dust. So what if I don’t sugar coat it? You only have yourself to blame anyway.”

You’re not mad at him. You know he’s just extra angry tonight about his audition. Still, the news feels like a gut punch-- and you’ve been taking a lot of those lately. You feel a lump in your throat start to form, but the sudden question of why this was happening distracts you momentarily. 

President Kim couldn’t possibly think rehabilitating such a problematic group was a good investment of his money or time or reputation.

So what was he planning?

“I’m sorry, (Y/N),” Hanbin says, shaking his head. “I’m just as upset as you are.”

Yujin snorts. “Don’t oversell it.”

“Yujin-ah--,” Hanbin starts to scold when he’s interrupted by ecstatic shouting.

“Kimchi: SECURED,” Gyuvin announces excitedly as he and Jiwoong enter the dorm with a big container of kimchi from the shop down the street. 

“Ew, you’re so embarrassing,” Yujin says annoyedly as his eyes glue to his phone screen. “Just say you got the kimchi in a normal way.”

Gyuvin takes both of Yujin’s cheeks in one hand and squishes them emphatically. “I live to embarrass my only son.”

“Hello?” A voice suddenly calls from the front of the dorm. “Oh, it smells amazing in here.”

Manager Sang bumbles into the kitchen, a big envelope tucked under his arm. He’s wearing a corduroy button up, dress khakis and thick-framed black glasses— his Total Control Badge hanging from a lanyard around his neck.

He usually checks in on the dorm more often, but this is the first time you’ve seen Manager Sang this week. Except, of course, for the brief appearance of his likeness at King Hyunwoo’s palace last night. You eye him up and down curiously. 

“Hanbinnie’s cooking for you all again, I see,” he observes with a chuckle before scanning the room and fixing on Yujin.” “Yujinnie, I have some… paperwork for you.”

“Huh?” Yujin responds like a zombie, completely worn out from his week of exams and his failed audition. “Paperwork? Is it for next semester?”

“Yeah, uh, just,” Manager Sang stammers, placing the envelope on the table in front of your maknae. “Just some stuff we need you to sign.”

“I’m gonna start looking at class options tomorrow,” Yujin says, a bit of levity in his voice as he talks about continuing school. He picks up the envelope and begins ripping it open, excitement continuing to build in his voice. “Maybe it’s a good idea to get my academic requirements out of the way first anyway.”

The smile on his face fades slowly as he pulls out a large, stapled packet of what appear to be legal documents.

“This—… this is my contract with the company to pay for my university,” Yujin says confusedly. “Do I just have to sign to renew it for next semester or something?”

Manager Sang swallows hard, replying shakily, “Well… Not exactly…”  

Yujin starts to leaf through the pages of the contract, his brow furrowing with concern. “Why--... Why are a bunch of things circled in red Sharpie?”

“You see, um... President Kim heard from your university’s dance department that you did not pass your audition today,” Manager Sang explains nervously. “So we need to collect some signatures and the promised payment for failure to succeed. Including accrued interest, of course.”

“PAYMENT!?” Yujin shouts, standing up from his chair-- the speed at which he continues to flip the pages of the contract is growing alarming. No one moves a muscle as you wait for Manager Sang to fix the problem, like he always does.

“Y-yes, Yujinnie. Don’t you remember?” Manager Sang replies, a sweat beginning to break at his hairline. “If you failed to pass the audition for next semester, Total Control is no longer liable to pay for this past semester of your university studies.”

The contract falls from Yujin’s hands and onto the table. You take the opportunity to pick it up and rifle through it as Manager Sang continues to mumble on about clauses and fine-print.

You find it on the fourteenth page, a small-print section labeled and circled in red Sharpie: Proceedings for Failure to Succeed. 

A silence falls over the room. You’re almost afraid to look at Yujin— the energy radiating from him is absolutely white-hot. 

“You told me to sign this,” Yujin says finally through gritted teeth. Jabbing a finger right at the middle of Manager Sang’s chest, he accuses, “You read the fine-print for me and you told me it was safe to sign.”

ZeroBaseOne had once been so popular that you’d had too many managers and staff to keep track of. Manager Sang had been with you since pre-debut, though, and the members favored him because of the bond that was shared. In recent years, President Kim had also begun to favor Manager Sang and promoted him to Head Manager. When ZB1 and Total Control effectively collapsed, Manager Sang was the only manager who remained at the dying company.

You’re suddenly faced with another question of ‘why’.

“I’m sorry you’re so upset,” Manager Sang swallows, stepping backward out of Yujin’s range of motion. “You should always read a contract yourself, Yujinnie. Maybe this can be a lesson for you. In the meantime, the payment is due by Monday.”

Manager Sang rushes out of the dorm and Yujin runs after him. 

“Go get him and calm him down,” Hanbin orders the three of you, keeping his hands on the skillet handle and spatula to keep from tearing his hair out. “Now!”

You, Jiwoong and Gyuvin clamber out of the kitchen towards the front door— your hands grabbing the hem of Yujin’s t-shirt just before he escapes into the cool, night air.

He’s screaming, kicking, crying and the force of his despair knocks you both down to the floor. Jiwoong locks the front door as Yujin collapses onto you.

“It’s not fair,” he cries and you just smother him into you more— Gyuvin and Jiwoong wrapping themselves around him so that he’s contained on all sides. “It’s not fair.”

“It’s not,” you agree, knowing all too well the gut wrenching pain of your f*cked up company betraying you. “It’s not fair at all.”

“It’s gonna be okay, Yujinnie,” Gyuvin soothes, rubbing his back. “It’s all gonna work out.”

“I want to go,” Yujin begs— not you or Gyuvin or Jiwoong, but the universe. He’s not speaking entirely intelligibly, but you know he means he just wants to keep going to school. “I can’t pay that money-- I can’t pay it so I can’t go anymore and I JUST WANT TO GO!”

“COMMAND HEARD: GO. COMMAND ACCEPTED. DESTINATION: METAVERSE. HAVE A NICE TRIP!”

“She really just does whatever she wants, huh?” Gyuvin wonders, shaking his head.

“What!?” Jiwoong shouts as that familiar red haze fills the air. “I thought the Metaverse was that castle at Total Control? That’s what Gyuvin said while we were at the market just now!”

“I—… thought so, too,” you say, watching as your dorm transforms into a cold, damp stone labyrinth. It’s dark; the only light coming from wooden torches hung on the walls of rock every few feet. Haunting screams and cries echo and ricochet down the hallway.

“Oh good,” Yujin says as he sits up, wiping his eyes and nose and looking around at his new surroundings. “I’m dead.”

“I…” You start to reply, marveling at what you can only assume to be the Metaverse version of your dorm. “I wouldn’t count on that just yet.”

Yujin throws his arms up exasperatedly. “Well, sh*t! Can someone put me out of my misery already?”

“(Y/N), this… this looks like some sort of prison,” Jiwoong whispers, palm up-turned towards the dark, stone ceiling above— a drop of murky water splashing onto his skin.

“Sounds like one, too,” Gyuvin snorts despite the chilled expression on his face giving him away. 

“Okay, but for real,” Yujin pipes up behind you, the slightest bit of worry starting to creep into his voice. “Did I pass out or, like… get sick or something?”

“Yeah,” you reply absentmindedly, a million different questions running through your own head. Yujin starts to wander off a bit and your hand shoots out to grab his wrist— keeping him safely glued to your side. “Or something.”

“Hey, let me go,” Yujin huffs, trying to free himself from your grasp. “This is my dream, isn’t it?”

You look at your angry maknae, finding red, puffy eyes and a still-quivering lip from the grief he’d just suffered.

Not a chance in hell that you’re letting him go. He’ll thank you one day.

“F*cking let go, (Y/N),” he shouts, gripping your forearm with his free hand and twisting. “Even in my subconscious, you’re such a d*ck!”

But that day is not today.

“WHO DARES TO TRESPASS IN THE ROYAL DUNGEON!?” A shadow guard’s voice bellows down the hallway that, in real life, leads to Yujin and Hanbin’s bedrooms. 

“Sh*t, sh*t, sh*t,” Gyuvin says, pushing Jiwoong down with him to hide in a crevice in the stone wall. There’s another crevice of a similar size a bit farther away which you dart towards, using all your effort to pull a reluctant Yujin to safety with you.

“Owww,” Yujin whines as you shove him out of sight of the shadow guard bumbling down the hallway. You squish his lips together with your free hand, eyes begging him to be quiet. It’s easy to see the message isn’t registering. Instead, you watch in slow motion as Yujin’s pointer finger rises from his side and goes straight into your left ear.

He grins triumphantly as you jump back and, in your discomfort, let go of Yujin’s wrist. He runs out of the cove in the wall and straight into the path of the shadow guard. Gyuvin catches your eye from across the dark hallway-- fear apparent as he looks to you for a new game plan.

“Whoah, this looks SO real,” Yujin marvels as the shadow guard breaks out in a sprint towards him. You gasp in horror as the giant figure crashes into Yujin, knocking him to the ground-- the back of his head hitting the cold stone beneath him. He sits up shakily, rubbing the back of his head and then bringing his hand towards his face. 

The rich, red sheen of blood dripping from his fingers makes your heart sink to your stomach. 

“This... feels so real, too, actually,” Yujin says dazedly as the shadow guard pulls him to his knees by the collar of his shirt. “(Y/N)...? (Y/N), I think I need h--....”

Your gaze fixes back on Gyuvin as you make a fist at him, signaling it's time for an all-out attack. He nods, tapping Jiwoong beside him to get ready. You hold up three fingers, then two, one...

You take the first attack. A gust of wind flies from your palm, but unlike the shadow guards you’d encountered before, this one doesn’t fall to the ground. Instead, it merely teeters before righting itself and turning to face you. 

Gyuvin releases a blast of ice next, icicles flying through the air and tearing a hole through the shadow guard’s chest. It’s clear the wound is serious as the guard loses his grip on Yujin, the youngest boy collapsing limply to the ground again. 

But much to your horror, the wound in the shadow’s chest begins to mend itself-- the black vapors inside of him growing thicker and thicker by the second.

“Jiwoong-ah, NOW!” You shout as a series of fireballs fly towards the shadow. They rip three separate holes in the guard’s form, finally knocking him backwards. But it’s not enough to vanquish the shadow guard. You need more power and, as the shadow guard’s wounds begin to heal again, you need it fast.

~I think it’s time we acquired a new skill. What do you say, my friend?~

“I think your timing is impeccable, Arsène,” you praise, closing your eyes as you feel a new source of power surge through you. You extend your arms, an immeasurable amount of flower petals flying from your palms and attaching to the shadow guard. 

New Skill Unlocked: In Bloom ˚❀༉‧₊

The guard sinks to the ground as he’s buried alive in flower petals and you run to Yujin, who’s staring wide-eyed up at you— one hand still cradling the wound on his head. 

“Yujin-ah,” Gyuvin calls  as he and Jiwoong land next to you. “Are you okay? Are you dizzy?”

Yujin shakes his head innocently. “N-no…”

“Which question was that an answer to?” Jiwoong asks, brow furrowed in concern.

“I’m okay, I think,” Yujin responds. You gently detach his hand from the back of his head and bring it toward you in the dim light, finding more fresh blood on his fingers. He looks up at you, much more scared than before. “What’s happening?”

You take his blood-stained hand and pull him to his feet. “You’re going to be okay, Yujinnie. I promise.”

“But—,” Yujin starts to protest as Gyuvin interrupts him.

“I think we should take a look around, (Y/N),” your right-hand man suggests, wrapping an arm supportively around the youngest’s shoulders. He gestures to the incapacitated guard on the ground, “Ya know, while we have the chance?”

You nod decisively. “I think you’re right, Binnie. Let’s tread carefully— stay behind me.”

You take a deep breath as you follow the direction of the loudest screams: they’re coming from where Yujin’s room is. As you approach, you find metal prison bars running vertically in the cement doorway, revealing a Metaverse version of your maknae. He’s wearing matching dark grey and white striped shirt and pants, hunched over a grey, sleight desk as the sound of furious pencil scribbles echo off the damp walls. 

“Is that--... Is that me?” Yujin whispers, pushing you aside so he can get a better look. “Why the hell am I a prisoner!?”

“I think each one of us has a cell just like this,” you say, looking at Gyuvin and Jiwoong. “It might be a reflection of how President Kim sees us: his prisoners.”

Metaverse Yujin puts his pencil down, picking up the finished document in his hand and looking it over. He slides it to the side of the desk, but, as soon as he does, the paper disappears. Metaverse Yujin screams in frustration, slamming his fists on the desk as he grabs another sheet of paper from the pile and continues his maniacal pencil scribbling. 

“To think we’re all serving time for crimes that President Kim committed,” Jiwoong shudders, shaking his head in disgust. 

“I’d say it’s a pretty good reflection of our reality,” Gyuvin says, looking at you sadly. “It only makes sense our dorm is King Hyunwoo’s dungeon.”

“Hold on. Did you just say President Kim’s crimes?” Yujin asks, a confused frown on his face. “And… King Hyunwoo?”

You watch as Metaverse Yujin has another episode of hysterics. If President Kim thinks Yujin is suffering this much... It’s because he’s personally made sure that he is.

“Yujin-ah!” Yujin calls, knocking on the metal bars with his knuckles. “Over here!”

Metaverse Yujin’s head snaps around, locking eyes with his real-life counterpart. He stands up from his desk-- a wild, frantic look in his eyes as he runs to the metal-barred doorway. Yujin jumps back as the Metaverse Yujin’s bleeding knuckles wrap around the bars, shaking them desperately. “Make it stop! Please, make it f*cking stop!”

“What happened to you, Yujinnie?” Jiwoong asks, eyeing the young prisoner with a concern you hadn’t seen from him in a long time. “Why are you being held captive like this?”

“You don’t have much time,” Metaverse Yujin whispers, trembling as he peers down the hallway. “He’s coming back. I can’t be punished again. I CAN’T!”

“Ssssh, Yujinnie. It’s gonna be okay,” Gyuvin soothes, placing a hand on top of the prisoner’s. “We’re gonna get you out of here!”

Metaverse Yujinnie sinks to the ground in despair. “You can’t... I can’t...”

“But... I can,” Yujin whispers. You look over at him to see that he’s crying again, but this time his tears are different. They’re not helpless. They’re defiant. “I can get you out of here. I can make President Kim pay for what he’s done to you. I... I can make sure I never have to feel like this ever again.”

“Yujin-sshi,” an ominous voice echoes down the hall. Your body tenses and you grab Yujin by the shoulders, shoving him behind you to shield him. “Are you working hard, Yujin-sshi? Are you making something of yourself yet?”

As the figure comes into focus, your lips part in shock. “Manager Sang?”

“You think you can escape the fate that King Hyunwoo chose for you, Yujin-sshi?” Manager Sang mocks as he draws closer. His chest is bound in chains-- a giant lock at the front. “What about you, (Y/N)-sshi? Do you really dare to climb out of the grave you’ve been hiding in this year? Trying to protect your youngest member when it was your carelessness that killed his future in the first place...”

“You--... you’re in on this?” Gyuvin asks, disgusted at the man who’d taken care of you the most throughout your careers. “You were on President Kim’s side this whole time!? How long have you been selling us out for?”

“Since the day I made... the choice. When the King asked me to wrap (Y/N)-sshi’s hands around the wheel that night while he fled the scene, I made the choice,” Manager Sang announces, eyes glowing red. “The choice to call the paparazzi when Jiwoong-sshi’s out at night. The choice to deliver the bribe checks to the media when Gyuvin-sshi schedules another meeting. And the choice to convince the youngest member to sign a contract.”

It’s only now you realize that someone’s hand is gripping into your upper arm, nails digging into your skin. You turn to your right, ready to pry them off before you remember who you’d placed behind you to shield them. 

“President Kim knew you would fail, Yujin-sshi,” Manager Sang continues. “Everyone at the company knew you would fail. That’s the only reason the investment was approved in the first place.”

Yujin’s fingers have turned white with how hard they’re gripping you, but the look in his eyes makes you hesitant to interrupt him-- no matter how painful it is for you. He’s panting heavily in an attempt to catch his breath and, before you know it, he’s started screaming.

“(Y/N)...” Gyuvin says softly, his gaze falling to your arm. A stream of blood has begun trickling down your arm past Yujin’s fingers. 

You shake your head. You’ll just have to power through it.

“And, just on the off chance that you really wouldn’t fail, President Kim asked me to help take some measures to ensure that you did,” Manager Sang says with a satisfied smile. “President Kim needed my help. He always needs my help. So, I asked you for your schedule at the beginning of the week: how else would Total Control have known to plan such a bombshell of a meeting for ZeroBaseOne just minutes before your audition, Yujin-sshi?”

“SHUT UP!” Yujin shouts behind you. His hand finally leaves your arm, starting to hit the concrete wall next to him with his fists. “EVERYONE JUST SHUT UP!”

NO CAN DO, FINE SIR. THERE’S SOMETHING I MUST MAKE YOU PRIVY TO: I AM ZORRO, MASKED SWORDSMAN AND YOUR NEW PARTNER IN THIS QUEST FOR JUSTICE.

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT!?” Yujin shouts, crouching down to the ground-- trying to find any semblance of reality he can.                          

THOUGH THE BURDEN OF GREAT PURPOSE IS A MIGHTY ONE, WE WILL BEAR THE WEIGHT TOGETHER. IT’S TIME TO TAKE BACK YOUR LIFE... COMMENCE THE FIGHT!

Jiwoong gasps as a mask begins to form on Yujin’s face-- the material fusing with his skin as it has each time before. You wish your youngest member didn’t have to feel this pain or join the dangerous fight you accidentally stumbled into this week.  It had always been your instinct to continue to protect him, no matter how much he resented you.

SSchrip...

New Confidant Unlocked: Magician *ੈ Han Yujin

But after seeing him promise Metaverse Yujin to stop the pain he’s been feeling, you know for sure that Yujin has grown into the man you’d all hoped he would. He didn’t need to be shielded from the truth. In fact, he might be crucial in helping you expose it.

Yujin is still doubled over, a new mask resting across his eyes. You can’t help but smile when you see the bunny ears on each side.

“If you’re all done messing around,” Manager Sang suddenly says behind you, “I’d like to kill you so I can collect my check.”

Jiwoong steps forward, raising his hand as he prepares to throw a fireball, but something restrains his arm before he can. Yujin smirks, releasing Jiwoong’s hand from his grip.

Step aside, Hyung... I'll handle this. ‧ ₊ ✫ ˚・

Jiwoong makes room for Yujin at the front, folding his arms across his chest with a laugh. “Less work for me.”

New Skill Unlocked: Hyung Card ೀ

When Yujin takes center, you’re confused when he doesn’t raise his hands in the direction of Manager Sang like you, Gyuvin and Jiwoong usually do to use your powers. Instead, he brings them together, fingers loosely interlacing as his palms meet. He stares at his thumbs, then up at Manager Sang without blinking.

“Oh sh*t,” Gyuvin says with a grin as a strange, purple fog forms above Yujin and slowly engulfs Manager Sang. Yujin finally blinks and the cloud lets up, revealing your manager writhing on the ground in a confused and panicked state.

“Too cute,” Manager Sang whispers over and over, hands covering his eyes. “He’s just too cute. Too cute. TOO CUTE!”

“Wait, WHAT!?” Yujin shouts, stamping his foot. “Did I just brainwash him with... cuteness!?”

New Skill Unlocked: Super Aegyo ₊˚⊹♡

The three of you very poorly stifle your laughter as Yujin turns around to glare at you. His mask now has glowing pink cheeks and little heart-shaped bubbles flying from the eye holes. You have to look away from all the cuteness before it brainwashes you, too.

“Oh, COME ON!” Yujin yells with a pout. “I’m not cute! I’m not a baby! You saw how fast I took him down!”

“You can sulk about it later, Yujinnie,” you say, grabbing his shoulders and turning him back around. “How about you finish this?”

“Really?” Yujin asks, brow raised in surprise. “You think I can?”

“I know you can,” you respond with a smile. “And I know you’re upset with your power, but the truth is... I think it might be the strongest one yet.”

He smiles back at you. “Thanks.”

Bringing his palms together again and focusing his eyes on Manager Sang, another cloud of purple fog swallows up your manager until a soft plea can be heard from within it.

“Please, please stop,” Manager Sang begs as Yujin blinks away the fog. “I--... I can’t do this anymore. I... I surrender.”

You approach him cautiously, Gyuvin, Yujin and Jiwoong following suit. “You... surrender?”

“Yes, I--... I can change! I’ve worked for King Hyunwoo... President Kim... for so long. I remember when you all were just kids still waiting to debut,” he says, a soft, reminiscent smile forming on his lips. “I knew you’d be successful. I knew it from the moment you stepped on stage at your first FanCon. None of the groups before you at Total Control ever had enough support to have a FanCon. But you did within just three months.”

“Then why have you been doing this?” Gyuvin asks, distrust still palpable in his voice. “Playing President Kim’s lackey?”

“Last year. After... everything happened,” Manager Sang says with a regretful sigh. “I handed in my resignation letter. But my wife had just had a baby that same month and... our baby was very ill when she was born. President Kim promised to give me a raise if I continued working and reported all of your information back to him. For many reasons, I couldn’t say no.”

“But we trusted you,” Jiwoong says quietly. “We trusted you and you... You’ve just been helping President Kim hurt us? You could’ve done the right thing at any point this year. Can you really sleep at night knowing the harm you’ve caused?”

“I’ll regret it for the rest of my life,” Manager Sang answers after a long moment. “After my involvement with staging the crime scene, I was at the mercy of President Kim. If I hadn’t done that... I truly wish I hadn’t played along for once. I’m sorry for the harm I’ve caused you, (Y/N)-sshi. I’m sorry for the harm I’ve continued to cause you all.”

You nod solemnly. “I wish you could tell the truth now in the real world. But I don’t see how that would be possible.”

“M-maybe... I--... C-can...” Manager Sang’s voice becomes choppy, his form appearing to glitch. He continues to glitch in and out until finally fading away. 

Gyuvin runs his hand through the space which was previously occupied by Manager Sang, finding only air in his place. “What the hell was that?”

“I’m not sure,” you say, brow furrowing as you think of the implications of the events that just unfolded. Had Metaverse Manager Sang been a projection of President Kim’s cognition like everything else in the Metaverse has been... Or was it Manager Sang’s own cognition that had apologized to them just now? “I think we need to--.”

Thud.

“Yujin-ah!” Jiwoong shouts as your youngest topples over onto the cold, damp cement. You reach your hand out, shielding Yujin’s head from taking any more damage tonight. 

“Yujin-ah,” you call, the three of you moving him into a more comfortable position. “Can you hear me? We’re going home now, okay?”

As soon as you say the words, the red haze around you begins to dissipate. The dark prison walls turn plastered and beige again-- the doors to each of your rooms reappearing in the place of the vertical metal bars. 

“WE DO AWAIT YOUR HASTY RETURN. PLEASE BE ADVISED THAT ANY INJURY SUSTAINED IN THE METAVERSE MAY CARRY OVER INTO THE REAL WORLD. TAKE CARE OF YOUR HEALTH.”

“Is--... Is she watching us?” Gyuvin asks with a frown.

“Everything okay out there guys?” 

Fuck. You totally forgot Hanbin was still in the kitchen. 

“We need to get Yujin to his room right now,” you urge, looking at your youngest member sprawled out on the floor of the foyer. 

Both Gyuvin and Jiwoong conveniently avoid your gaze…

Mini-Decision: Someone’s gotta carry Yujin. Will you say “Ugh, Fine” or “Woongie SO Strong”? ~

Author’s Note: PLEASE only choose “ugh, fine” if you are Yujin’s real age/a minor! Obviously Yujin is 18 in this fic, but that’s just for story purposes. ONLY MINORS choose this option if you’d like to unlock Yujin’s ending at the end! This choice has a hint of romance so a reminder that this fic isn’t real, Yujin is just a character in this story, the romance is all age appropriate and JUST FICTION. Thank you for being respectful and kind!

If you chose “Ugh, Fine”, read below:

With a heavy sigh, you grab Yujin’s left arm and point to Jiwoong to grab the other one. Gyuvin supports him and, together they lift Yujin onto your back. “Stay here and distract Hanbinnie,” you whisper, rushing down the hall as fast as you can and into Yujin’s room.

“We’re... Um...” You hear Gyuvin call to Hanbin in the kitchen, “Changing! Yeah. We’re just changing.”

“Oh for f*ck’s sake,” Jiwoong mutters.

“... In the hallway?” Hanbin responds confusedly, footsteps pattering towards the foyer as you lock the door behind you. “You’re wearing the same clothes as you were before.”

“I meant metaphorically,” Gyuvin clarifies with a nervous laugh. What follows is a loud smack and a mumbled, “Ow.”

You sit down on the edge of Yujin’s bed, unwrapping his arms from around your neck and situating him so that he’s propped up on his pillows. He looks so peaceful resting like this and you wish you could just let him sleep, but you need to wake him up to check if he has a concussion first.

“Yujin-ah,” you say softly, brushing a lock of hair from his eyes. His lashes start to flutter against his cheeks until they’re staring up at you. He sits up quickly-- too quickly and you gently nudge him back down to a reclined position. “Don’t move too fast. You’ll get dizzy. How do you feel?”

“Was it real?” He asks excitedly, stars in his eyes. “The dungeon? The magic powers? Manager Sang?”

You press your lips together, conflicted. You could still tell Yujin it wasn’t real. That he hit his head running to the door and must’ve had a crazy dream. That everything was the way it had always been. That he could go back to passively disliking you and maybe working out a new deal with President Kim and Manager Sang. That he won’t get hurt again...

“Yeah,” you admit finally. “It was all real.”

“I knew it,” Yujin says with a grin, folding his arms across his chest satisfactorily. “I knew you wouldn’t lie to me. You need my help, obviously”

You smile back at him. “I do need your help actually. But, more importantly, you need your help.”

Yujin’s smile fades as he looks down at his lap. He doesn’t say anything, but his silence alone confirms the truth.

“I’m so sorry, Yujinnie,” you say, placing a hand on his wrist. “I wish you didn’t have to go through any of this. I wish we all could’ve stayed as happy as we always were forever. I’d do anything to go back and change it. Maybe now I can finally make things right... and with you by my side again.”

Much to your surprise, your typically sarcastic and affection-avoidant maknae places his hand on top of yours. “It’s not your fault, (Y/N). I didn’t know that before. But I do now.”

“Oh, it’s really okay--.”

“It’s not,” Yujin cuts you off. He’s clearly a bit uncomfortable with the sincerity he’s having to display, but you appreciate it nonetheless. “And I’m sorry.”

“That actually means a lot to me,” you say with a smile, which Yujin happily returns. “I missed talking to you, kiddo.”

“Oh come on! We’re almost the exact same age. I’m NOT a kiddo,” he corrects with a groan. He then looks at his lap, a little blush on his cheeks. “And I’ll prove it to you.”

Your bond with Yujin has grown stronger. +1 Yujin Point. Please add +1 Yujin Point to your scoresheet.

“(Y/N), open the door,” Gyuvin whisper-yells as he jiggles the doorknob. You rush over to the door, Jiwoong and Gyuvin almost knocking you over as they barge inside.

・゜゜ . . * ✧･ﾟ・ ✧･ﾟ: ・゜゜・．

If you chose "Woongie SO Strong", read below:

“Oh my goodness,” you coo quietly, grabbing Jiwoong’s right bicep and squeezing. “I didn’t realize how big your arms were!”

“Wh—… What?” Jiwoong stammers as you continue to feel up his arm. “Me?”

“Woongie soooooo strong,” you sing-song, batting your eyelashes at him for full effect. 

Unfortunately for Jiwoong, you know exactly how to play to his weakness and his chest begins to puff at your flattering. “I— I guess, yeah. Yeah! I kind of totally am actually.”

Gyuvin snorts, turning away from you to keep from ruining your evil plot.

“So stroooong and SO handsome,” you add, just to knock it out of the park.

“I’ve heard this a lot in my lifetime actually, but,” Jiwoong replies, one eyebrow piquing at you charismatically, “I never thought I’d hear it from you. Maybe we could talk more about how handsome and strong you think I am over coffee or—.”

“—SO strong you could carry a full-sized Yujin!” You finish. Trap successful.

Jiwoong’s previously seductive expression turns quickly to disappointment. “Aw,” he grumbles, removing his arm from your grasp. “I thought you’d finally seen the light.”

“The light being…?” Gyuvin asks, patting Jiwoong’s shoulder comfortingly.

“Me,” Jiwoong answers, brushing Gyuvin’s hand off and fixing his shirt; trying to re-establish his dignity. “I thought you’d finally seen me.”

Your eyes widen in surprise at the sincerity of his last sentence. Jiwoong is surprised by it too and he coughs awkwardly to distract from it. 

“Okay, okay. I’ll do it,” Jiwoong relents, stooping down and picking up Yujin all by himself.

“Holy sh*t, you actually are kind of strong,” you marvel a bit at his unexpected strength. 

Jiwoong shrugs as he carries Yujin down the hall to his room. “I know. Blew your chance though.”

Your bond with Jiwoong has grown stronger. +1 Jiwoong Point. Please add +1 Jiwoong Point to your scoresheet.

As Jiwoong shuts Yujin’s door behind him, you look up at Gyuvin confusedly and whisper, “He’s just joking around, right?”

“Kids, what’re you doing out there?” Hanbin asks as you hear the oil in the skillet slowly stop sizzling. Entering the hallway, his brow furrows as he looks around. “Where’d Yujinnie go? Didn’t I tell you to calm him down?”

“We did,” Gyuvin answers quickly. “In fact, we got him so calm that he’s now unconscious.”

Hanbin’s eyes bulge at this. “Excuse me!?” 

You sigh, looking up at the ceiling and shaking your head. You should’ve made Gyuvin carry Yujin instead.

“I mean, he’s just taking a nap,” Gyuvin thankfully corrects his previous blunder.

“But—… I just finished dinner,” Hanbin responds sadly. With a sigh, he continues, “I understand though. It’s been a hard day for him. You guys’ll still eat, right?”

“Of course!” Gyuvin exclaims as you nod enthusiastically beside him. “Um, could you just give us a couple minutes though?”

“Oh, uh… Sure,” Hanbin agrees confusedly. “Why?”

“I have to… Give… (Y/N)… something,” Gyuvin improvs absolutely seamlessly. “Yeah, I have to give (Y/N) something now or else I’ll forget to do it later! We’ll be riiiiight back.”

“Oookaaay,” Hanbin says with a sigh as you and Gyuvin run suspiciously down the hall. “I’ll just bring a bowl to Gunwook in the meantime, I guess.”

・゜゜ . . * ✧･ﾟ・ ✧･ﾟ: ・゜゜・．

All Continue Reading Below

JUNE 21st -- NIGHT

After eventually scarfing down beef bulgogi like it's your occupation, the four members of the Phantom Thieves sit on Yujin’s bed-- gathered around your youngest member like he’s the baby Jesus in his manger. It’s a bit of a funny sight.

“Are you sure you're alright, Yujinnie?” Gyuvin asks, turning Yujin’s head so he can see the back of it. “It’s healed a lot. And you can’t even see the indents on (Y/N)’s arm anymore… But still. That was way too close of a call.”

“Way too close,” you agree, bottom lip tucking between your teeth in thought. “If injuries we get in the Metaverse can carry over to the real world… What if we had a way to heal them while we were still in there?”

“You mean, like, medicine and bandages and stuff? Can you bring real world objects into the Metaverse like that?” Jiwoong asks.

“I don’t see why not,” you reply, tilting your head to the side as you consider it. “We’re able to bring our phones in with us. Maybe anything that’s in our hands or pockets is fair game. I think we need to stock up on whatever we can get.”

“So… what happens now?” Yujin asks and it’s a very good question. “We’re—… We’re gonna take down President Kim? Through the… Metaverse, or whatever? How do we even do that?”

“I don’t really know yet,” you admit honestly. “But I think we’re getting closer to finding the answer. All thanks to the newest member of the Phantom Thieves!”

A reluctant smile turns up one corner of Yujin’s lips. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I guess I had to do one thing well tonight.”

“We’ll fix that, too,” you say and you mean it. “We’ll get you back in school and we’ll get all your debt paid, okay? Everyone’s debt will get paid.”

“We’re gonna need to plant some money trees, then,” Gyuvin says, scratching the back of his neck. “We can’t stockpile meds and first aid sh*t and then pay Yujinnie’s university debt on our own. Jiwoong hyung’s in the negative over there after last night.”

“Hey, I have a little bit of money left,” Jiwoong says, pulling out his wallet and opening it. It’s completely empty. “F*ck, did I lose my ID too?”

“Gyubinnie’s right,” Yujin says with a nod. “We need money. And as the news and best member of the Phantom Thieves, I’m about to make a suggestion that no one will like…”

“No…” You whisper.

“You can’t mean,” Gyuvin whispers.

“I think we should try to get Ricky hyung on board,” Yujin says definitively; a chorus of groans echoing into the air. “I mean, do you guys have any better ideas for quick cash?”

“But Ricky hates me,” you whine, leaning your forehead on Jiwoong’s shoulder.

“To be fair, everyone basically hates you,” Yujin says with a shrug. Curse your savage maknae. “But, once they know the truth, they won’t anymore. Probably. Ricky included. Probably.”

You sigh defeatedly. “I guess if there’s really no better option… It’s settled. We’ll go talk to Ricky at his Club Jeune Et Riche on Friday.”

“Oooh,” Jiwoong hums, shaking his head. “No can do. We’ll be at the company.”

Gyuvin smacks Jiwoong so hard, he goes flying backward off the bed. “If you don’t shut your mouth--.”

“I already know about that actually,” you say, chewing your cheek. “Courtesy of our smart-mouthed maknae.”

Yujin smiles sheepishly. “Sorry. Again.”

“I’m sorry, (Y/N),” Gyuvin says, looking at you shamefully. “I wanted you to hear it from me, but I... Guess I fumbled the bag.”

You’re not mad at Gyuvin either. Or any of your members (except Hao-- you’re always mad at Hao). You just feel sad. And left out. And hurt. And happy that maybe you didn’t ruin their lives completely. And okay, maybe a bit mad.

But a leader must trudge on.

“It’s okay. I’ll go talk to Ricky on Friday by myself then,” you announce, biting your lip. “I just can’t imagine he’d even give me the time of day...”

Jiwoong clears his throat awkwardly, climbing back up onto Yujin’s bed. “Well, what if he didn’t know it was you he was talking to?”

You raise an eyebrow at him curiously. “What are you suggesting?”

“What if... American heiress and art collector, Rebecca Song, paid him a visit instead?” Jiwoong suggests with a grin.

“Who’s Rebecca Song?” Gyuvin asks confusedly. “Or... is that the--... That’s the point, isn’t it? Okay, I get it now.”

“Some acting work for (Y/N)? Don’t you have the lowest rated web drama of all time or something?” Yujin muses, smiling evilly as he considers it. “Make sure you film it.”

It’s not a bad suggestion though. You like to think you’ve gotten better at acting since your web drama fiasco in 2019 (a romantic comedy set in a post-apocalyptic world overrun by clowns instead of zombies), but you have no proof of that. Still, Ricky could very well slam the door at just the sight of your face...

What do you wanna do, Player?

⁺⋆✰ Chapter Choice ✰⋆⁺

It's your decision, Player. Will you visit Ricky as...

CHOICE 1: Yourself

OR

CHOICE 2: Rebecca Song: Esteemed Foreign Art Collector

[yujinsmom]

zb1 reactions!

── ★ ˙ ̟ 🎀 !! ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ ᯓ★

pov: when he sees u fangirling over another idol on his tl

-hyung line

[haolovre]

“Come and save me”

“ he’ll appeard in her dream, but now also in real life, but really. is it real life?”

superman!gunwook x reader

oneshot (but if u guys want a part 2 i ‘ll make one just let me know!)

a/n:this gunwook came up my mind today. hes so ininwijwnihnwisnzj, also these stuff take hours so bear with me. This fic has a open ending so yeah

genre: - (im stupid)

word count: idk it looks short so

divider by @cafekitsune

warnings : missspelled words, bullying

masterlist

Normal day at school, you walk in and kaboom water all over you. It was common for this to happen too you and u werent even shocked about who keeps doing them, hwang wonyoung and park eunchae, the popular kids who gets there fame by bullying people. And u were so damn lucky to be one of them. People were afraid to help you, because they dont want the sams happening too themselves. You ran to the toilets to clean urself up.

After some time you came all dry out of the bathroom. Most of the students went to class already, so you hurried to your class. Luckily u were on time..

Time skip!

School is done! Lucky for you, u still have 2 hours of tutoring sessions. So u went to the library and sat somewhere. Your junior, Kim Yujin came right on time and you started on tutoring him

As the two hours went fast u two bid eachother goodbye and you went home.

You did your homework and washed up then you hurriedly turned on your tv to be on time with Boys Planet. U watched for a bit until u were sleepy.

U went to bed with a dream that the bullying will stop.

U woke up the next day, and the cycle will not end, getting bullied, tutor a junior, do homework and sleep. The schedule went on and on. You already went to a teacher asking for help, but no luck as the two bullies came from wealth.

on saterdays u would work at en park cafe, owned by the park family. The owner is friends with your mother and that is how you got the job there. Even tho its ur bully, park eunchae’s family, there much more kind than she is. Its a small business cafe but very cozy. You often worked alone there on how small the cafe was, but mostly ms park helped you.

“Alright it’s the end of the month what means you, yoon y/n get your paycheck.” Ms park gets a envelope from the cash register. “Shh don’t tell that im giving u a tip.” She puts the envelope in ur jackets pocket. “Well off u go know its getting dark.” “Alright ms park ill be going now have a great night !” as that u opened the door and waved goodbye to her. “Bye bye sweetie.” The walk from the cafe and to your house isnt far so the walk was short.

You went to take a shower, dried off and went to sleep.

the next day your teacher announced that there will be a new student. “Well class meet park gunwook your new classmate! Please sit next to yoon y/n. Yoon y/n please raise ur hand” as you looked up seeing the student. Atleast 6 ft tall, black hair but from the lighting it looked dark gray (grandpa alert) ,” hey! Im gunwook.” He smiles “your name is yoon y/n right? Beautiful name!” “Oh yeah thank you, your name is pretty too!” You two were interrupted by the bell.

“Oh well thats the bell, what is our next class?” You quickly grabbed the schedule “math..” you answered “ in class a5”. Lets go before we get la-“ splash. Water hitted your face “HAHA! Awh poor yoon got her all wet weh weh. What are u going to do? Go cry in the washroom” hwang wonyoung great oh great. “What the hell was that! Y/n are you oke? God damn, have you gone mad” gunwook grabbed wonyoung at her collor and shoved her against a locker. “What the hell is wrong with you!” “Why do you care about her she is pathetic”

“Pathetic? You think she is pathetic? Your the pathetic one, splashing water on someone is pa.the.tic.” You were shocked. No one stood up for you ever. Wonyoung looked horrified “Well wait until my father will hear about this”

she tried to run away but gunwook’s grip was to strong. “Why are you even trying to run away? Poor y/n couldn’t so why can you?” He said in a petty tone. “I - i- u will get expelled if you keep doing this gunwook my fa-“ “im not scared of ur father.” he cutted off her sentence.

as this ‘fight’ went on u actually never paid attention to the fight. Instead u looked at his features. Gunwooks features. You didnt cared about all this for you, u only were looking at him.

ur hero with no cape

* thringgg

the bell went…

“y/n! y/n? Y/N!” You slowly woke up from your dream… “oh finally your awake its almost 7 am you need to hurry to school!” Your mom screamed at you.

You suddenly realized… it was all a dream, a dream u can only wish for it actually would happen…

You arrived at school. Surprisedly no one bullied you, nothing. What is a huge shocker. as the day went on smoothly you soon see it almost saterday.

“Well y/n my dear. You worked so hard today. My hardest worker” she patted you on the head. “Well i might also say is that someone will take over my place and will work with you!” “What? Ur retiring?” “Yeah dear i am, now let me introduce you too your new boss, park gunwook. he’s my son and..”

you didnt pay attention anymore. You heard his name. And you saw him again. But now in reality.

“Well dear here he finally is. Oh you two would make a cute couple. He is 16 so he is around your age! Also he would be joining you for class next semester! But he will be joining you next week.” next semester..? Oh yeah next week is summer break.

“Oh well nice to meet you” he smiled “park gunwook ur new boss” now he’s smilling proudly from ear to ear. “Yoon y/n” you smiled. “I hope you two will get along, you do have all summer.” Ms park winked. He chuckled.

The week started of fine. You hung alot with gunwook. Sometimes some bullying but gunwook made sure they wouldnt hurt you.

And you we’re grateful for that. Someone who stood up for you.

He protected you from the bullying.

The week went fast, no bullying just because gunwook was there. He made it stop. He might have threatened his sister and friend to stop but we like to see that

The last day working at the cafe. Well not last just before summer begins, as the shop closes in the holidays.

Gunwook is nice to work with, sometimes a bit clumsy but still helpful.

After your shift,

Summer has finally started

it has been two weeks into summer break. You and gunwook got along very well. You two have alot in common so it was easy to get along.

he often invites you to his apartment as he doesn’t live with his parents even tho he’s 16.

you two were having so much fun. And you didnt want summer to end.

you didnt want to this to end

this friendship

4 weeks into summer break. You two were still hanging out every minute that you could. You might see him as your brother on how often you see him.

You do see him getting more touchy and more cuddly the more you spend time with him.

Hands ‘accidentally’ touching.

Him not wanting to let go from a hug

Him being jealous of you hanging out with someone else, definitely if it was a boy that wasnt him.

those little things. He would always would notice.

5 weeks in summer break.

He asked you to meet at the beach. Your go to place where u confess your problems and any of that sort.

Your heart was racing. You couldn’t wait until you see him again. You two havent hung out for this week. It now a sunday. You have grown feelings for gunwook in the summer.

He was one of the people that understood you. He cared about you.

All of those thoughts sank. You saw him with another girl…

another girl. A girl that isnt you, it was hwang wonyoung

You let that sink in, him? The park gunwook that you liked, liked your bully.. hwang wonyoung

Tears running to the ground.

You ran away before he saw you. You didnt want him to see you crying. He hated seeing you cry. You quickly messaged him saying that your sick.

He answered right away. Calling you. Asking if you were oke. But you couldn’t answer the call. He shoulf be happy with another and not worry about you. The tears stained and stingt alittle but u didnt care.

He betrayed you and played your feelings. You thought he liked you, you were so sure about it.

You heard knocking on your door…

Gunwook

Gunwoom is infront of your door. “Y/n? Are you oke . Your sick, let me take care of you.” He tried calling you making sure you were oke.

You answered.. “y/n! Oh my days your oke. I was worried sic-“ “go out with your girlfriend and stop bothering me, gunwook” you hung up. Crying. Tears rolling from your eyes.

The guy you loved was two doors away from you. But he wasnt the one for you, he loved someone else…

He, helped you escape reality. Helped you with your bullying. But that was all a dream. This is reality. He wouldnt fall in love with you. He would fall in love with hwang wonyoung.

6 weeks in summer break, the last week before school started. You blocked gunwook on everything. Distance yourself from everyone. You were stuck in your room, only coming out for food and water, or going to clean yourself.

You were a mess, and all that just for a boy. Your mom was worried but let it be.

School almost started, you dont want to face him again. Not again.

A week into school, he tried to approach you many times but you just ignored him. Not wanted to get hurt again. The bullying also have stopped, you don’t know why but it did.

on friday a note was in your locker, signed with. G.W

You wanted to throw it away, but curiosity kills you. So you opened it.

Y/n, i want to talk to you. 4 pm on the roof. ps dont thow this away, please

u stood there in thought wondering if you would go….

on the other hand gunwook stood there in the corner.. seeing your reaction, but it was unreadable. He looked at the time 3:40 pm,20 minutes to see if you come and finally talk it out..

After 2 weeks no talking gunwook was going insane. Lot of thoughts going through his mind. At the beach he saw you.. he saw you with tears in your eyes, he watched as you ran away. He wantes to follow you but then that message pops up. “Im sick” those two words was enough that he was running for his life to your home. He wasnt chased or anything. Anything for you.

He is willingly to give up everything, he might also give you his whole body. Just for to stay with you. But now two weeks without and he was going insane..

4:00 pm at the school rooftop..

You came you actually came, he could hug you right now but that isnt the proper greeting someone, not right now.

“Y/n” he said with a caring voice, “how have you been?” “I have been doing fine thanks” that was a lie, you know how terrible you did after this whole situation. “Can i explain myself.. please” you heard his desperation in his voice“yeah thats the only thing why im here”

“Listen i dont like her. I brought her to de beach to give you an apology for bullying and thought that u will have a better school year with out getting bullies. Dont misunderstand think that i likes her. I dont..” you stood the frozen, not inowing what to do. He didnt likes her.. “y/n, i like you and not her..” now your mindblown first a apology and now this confession. You tried opening your mouth but nothing came out. It was too much.

How would you respond?

Was this a dream or reality?

“Gunwook i..”

[zerobaseonefics]

enchanted ㅡ ricky

ricky x gn!reader

genre : fluff, fake dating.

warnings : none <3 shout out to my 🐇 anon and to @mins-fins cuz he seemed excited to read it yesterday 🤭

"ricky, stand up-"

"i said i would beg! i'm begging"

you sighed heavily. growing up as ricky neighbor, you two ended up being great friends. your parents knew each other so your families often did thing together, such as going to holidays, picnics and these kind of things. it is know to everybody that ricky's family was wealthy, and yours was just as much as your parents became business partners over the year.

"come on, i don't wanna go with them, and you have no one to take you there. if we go together, our parents will let us be!"

rich people problem, i guess... once a year, your parents' business partners organized a ball for their kids. it was not just a little dance for shit and giggles, no, it was just so the kids can meet together, fall in love and make their life with someone from a wealthy family. ricky and you grew up going there every year. when you were younger, your parents never pressured you to have a partner to go there. however, around a certain age, you better have one if you don't want your parents to be the laughing stock of town. ricky and you decided years ago to never go together, otherwise your parents would imagine things and think you're a couple. at that time, you didn't have those hidden feelings you have for each other like you have today.

and now, you guys were eighteen, going nineteen, and you had to take someone with you. the problem is, you were absolutly bitchless, and ricky's parent were forcing him to go with someone he couldn't stand.

"ricky, i would've gone with you if our parents weren't friends. you know damn well they won't stop teasing us with it and think we're in love or something."

"and? is it worse than you not pulling and me being forced to go with that goblin??"

"don't call people goblins, i already told you that's mean!" you choked, hitting his arm

"well i don't care!" ricky whined before letting his head fall on the kitchen table you guys were sitting at.

you were thinking about it, and yes, your parents thinking ricky and you are a thing wasn't a problem for you. at least, it was not worse than seeing someone else at ricky's arm. but you knew you will not be able to stand your parents thinking you guys are in love when you were convinced ricky didn't like you back.

suddenly, ricky got up.

"what if we tell our parents that we are dating, and then we break up after the ball so they leave us alone."

"i mean...that could work."

"so you're fine with it?"

the blonde looked at you with eyes full of hope, waiting for you to say yes. you let yourself a few seconds to think, before sighing.

"screw it, i guess that's a nice plan."

a huge smile on his face, ricky took your hand and dragged you with him to the door.

"mom, i'm taking y/n on a date, i should be back around 6!"

"what?" you said in a choked voice to make sure she couldn't hear it.

"you're dating y/n??" she suddenly appeared, her head peeking out of her room.

"i didn't know how to tell you, but yes, we've been dating for a few weeks now", ricky said confidently as you were turning red.

"oh my god! is it why you didn't want to go with my colleague's daughter?"

she started rambling about how happy she was about the news, and ricky had to cut her off gently for you two to go. he opened the door, not letting go of your hand.

"okay, so what do we do now..."

"we're going on a fake date."

"is it really necessary? our parents are not with us, we don't have to go that far."

"don't worry about that, it's to imbue us with the couple vibes."

and ricky took you on a date. once, and twice, and a third time again before the ball. and it never felt fake, not even once. or maybe you were just delusional? at least, that's what you were thinking, not knowing ricky was having the time of his life pretending to be your lover.

the night of the ball, ricky came to pick you up. you were surprised when you saw his cheeks turn crimson red when he saw you all done-up. it wasn't that hot tonight, why was he like this? (well you're a dense bitch) (i'm sorry) (let me go back to my serious narrator persona wait)

the feeling of taking you to the dance was bittersweet for ricky. you two have planned to fake your 'break up' to your parents after the ball. it means it was the last time he could take your hand, pass his arm around your waist or your shoulder to take you closer to him, look at him with obvious love in his eyes with the excuse of faking it so you won't be unconfortable.

everyone joked about how they knew you two will end up together since you were young, and they congratuled you on finally being a couple. but both of you knew the truth, and it's why it didn't please you as much as they thought it would.

the evening was going smoothly as you both tried to joke around and enjoy the moment.

now, the time has come. the most awaited moment by the people your age that were going to the ball was slowdancing, as cliche as it sounds. you watched the other kids as they got up with excitement with their partner to dance. the song playing on background was enchanted by taylor swift. tugging on a piece of your clothing, ricky tried to have your attention. you turned to face him.

"you're comfortable with doing this? we're not obliged to do it if you don't want to, you seem hesitant about it." fervently, you shook your head to deny his allegations.

"no no! it be weird if we didn't do it, right? and i'm comfortable, since it's you."

ricky tried to restrain his smile as he got up from the seat you two were on. he gave you his hand, waiting for you to take it in yours.

"can i have this dance?"

you laughed at his act.

"i would love to", you admitted, putting your hand in his. he took it to his lips to plant a kiss on it, still in his gentleman act.

and here you were, on the dance floor between all those stupid rich kids, your arms around ricky's neck as he was holding your waist, slowdancing. the blonde haired boy bent a bit to whisper in your ear, pulling you closer.

"can you believe we're breaking up tomorrow?" he mumbled in a teasing tone, making sure no one but you could hear him.

"don't bring this up, i'm your lover for at least... three more hours", you answered in the same volume.

"you know, now that i think about it, our parents are probably gonna freak out when we tell them we broke up."

"that's true, and we're gonna have to tell everybody here that we're not together anymore."

"seems tiring."

you simply nod, and ricky straightened himself up to look at your eyes. there was something special about the way he looked at you, something you couldn't explain. little did you know, that same thing was shining the same in your eyes, and ricky started to think that maybe his feelings were mutual.

"you're making me feel so weird right now." ricky confessed, which made you frown. you hummed in confusion, waiting for him to continue.

"do we really have to break up?"

"i mean, we're not gonna pretend forever... right?"

"it felt right to me. how was it for you?"

"how was what?"

"me being your boyfriend."

it seemed like a joke to you at first, but the more you observed his face, there was not even a pint of playfulness. he was dead serious. you didn't answer because you were taken aback, so ricky continued.

"i loved being your boyfriend, even if it was all an act. i might be wrong, but i feel like it wasn't that bad for you either. please let me take you on a real date at least once and if you don't like it, let's just forget about it."

"i don't think i can forget about it."

was is it a rejection? did he ruin everything by confessing? ricky let his head down in shame, cold sweat running down his back. suddenly, he felt your hand on his cheek, and he looked back up to you. you quickly kissed his lips.

"i would love to date you for real this time", you said, as enchanted was coming to an end. he beamed befofe leaning back to yours lips, and he was now the one kissing you.

[choiyawnzjun]

SERIES MASTERLIST

forbidden sex toy — sim jaeyun

౨ৎ intro

౨ৎ part 1

౨ৎ part 2

[gunhaos]

INTRODUCING ZB1 Kim Jiwoong

[existentialvisceralmushroom]

I miss these two 🏳️‍🌈

[blossominghunnie]

𝐁𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐅𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝

Pairing: Sung Hanbin x fem!reader

Genre: Fluff, based off 5sos’ Best Friend.

Summary: A couple scenarios that made Hanbin realize that he slowly fell for his best friend.

Warning: None

Note: Ahh, I was so excited to write this. I’ve loved this song for yearssss. 🫶🏼

Hanbin always knew he felt something for you, even if he wasn’t sure what that feeling was.

You basically grew up together. You knew each other since elementary school but funnily enough didn’t like the other, like at all.

Hanbin was a very outgoing guy, he knew everyone and had tons of friends. On the other hand, you were a little bit more reserved, you had a small but tight group of friends and preferred to listen rather than to talk.

You were so different yet similar in other ways.

You didn’t like how loud he could get or that smirk he gave you every time he knew he did something to annoy you.

And he didn’t like that you were a nerd that only cared about school (false, you only cared about having good grades but didn’t live for school) and that you rarerly talked.

And that went on for years. Until your best friend, Minjun, started dating Hanbin’s friend, Matthew, in your freshman year of high school. Forcing your two groups to spend a lot of time together.

At first you both dreaded it, but after some time you started warming up to each other. You discovered that you shared a love for music and you also liked the same movie genre.

After that you started hanging out more without your other friends and texting a lot, too. You started calling each other “bestie” and “best friend”.

It was a cute friendship and even your friends teased you that you would eventually end up together.

1. Even every time that you got the flu

I'm not scared at all to get close to you.

I don't run away when your face says achoo.

But I run to get you a tissue.

Hanbin remembers vividly the first time you got sick with the flu. You were supposed to hang out at the fair the next day but called him to cancel.

“I’m sorry Bin, we’ll have to reschedule.” You talked on the phone.

“Why? Are you okay?” He asked in a concerned tone.

“Yeah, don’t worry. I just got the flu and I feel awful.”

“Oh, Bestie.” He answered. “Do you want me to get you anything?”

“No, no. It’s okay, Binnie.” You waved your hand even though he couldn’t see you. “I’ll just sleep and order take out.”

“Ooor, I could cook you something warm and take care of you.”

“Nooo, Bestie. You don’t have to do that.” You spoke. “I don’t want you to get sick, too.”

“Nonsense. Nothing’s gonna happen to me. I have a strong inmune system.” He answered making you laugh and cough a little afterwards. “Just accept, Y/nnie. I promise I won’t run away when you sneeze, I’ll run to get you a tissue.”

After you contemplated his offer, you accepted.

You had such a sweet best friend.

“Okaaay.”

Hanbin was genuinely happy to take care of you. “I’ll pass by the convenience store to get you snacks and medicine.”

“Okay, Bin. I’ll see you soon.”

“Yeah, I won’t be long.”

“Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

2. Remember when your parents went out of town?

They were, dumb enough to leave us with the house

We had 100 people naked on the sofa

Dancing 'til the cops said: Game over

Turned out it was Cheri's dad

So we did shots while we rode in the back

He even let us all use the siren

It was the best night, I'm not lying

Since your parents went on a week long trip to Las Vegas, they left you home alone. Letting you invite some of your friends so you wouldn’t be on your own.

So, Hanbin convinced you to throw a party on Friday and invite your friends and a plus one. Which wasn’t a very good idea. Word spread throughout campus and now you had a ton more people than what you were expecting.

You gave the black haired a look. “This is all your fault.”

“Mine? Why?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, yours. Because you seem to forget how popular you are.”

“Oh.” He gave you a sheepish look. “Okay, maybe I do.”

“Lighten up, Sweetheart. We’ll kick them out if we need to.” Taerae, your boyfriend at the time, spoke as he threw his arm around your shoulders.

“You? But you’re scrawny, love.” You teased him.

“I’m stronger than you think.” He started ticking you.

“Okay, okay! You are.” You gave him a hug and he kissed you on the forehead.

“Let’s go dance, babe.” He took your hand and dragged you to the dance floor, which was really your living room.

Hanbin was left on the sidelines with some of your other friends, just watching you as you danced with the brown haired.

“Just tell her how you feel.” Zhang Hao talked as he saw the way Hanbin was looking at you.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The older gave him a look. “We all know you’re in love with Y/n and have for years.”

“I’m not in love with her, she’s my best friend.” Hanbin spoke defensively.

“Don’t even try to deny it. We’ve all seen the way you look at her, like right now.”

As he was processing what his best friend said, a police siren could be heard on the distance.

“POLICE! EVERYONE OUT, NOW!” Someone you couldn’t recognize shouted.

Everyone started screaming and running as fast as they could, and exited the house.

When the cops arrived, your group of friends and your boyfriend, were the only ones left.

So, turns out that they received a noise complaint from one of your neighbors, which wasn’t surprising cause that old woman hated you.

Anyway, you weren’t in trouble because the police officer was one of your closest friend’s dad, Cheri.

You all ended up doing shots in the back and using the siren.

It was a pretty amazing night.

After that, all of your friends went home.

Hanbin laid on his bed and stared at the ceiling, still thinking about what Hao had told him.

Maybe he liked you more than a friend?

He couldn’t deny that he found you very pretty and adored your personality. You were so special to him.

After overthinking for what felt for hours, that night, he realized that he liked his best friend, more than a friend.

Would he ever confess to you? Maybe.

He couldn’t do it right now, because you had a boyfriend and he respected your relationship. That and he also wasn’t sure if you felt the same.

For now, he’s content to have you as his best friend, so telling you about his feelings would be a problem for future Hanbin.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

5sos’ songs series masterlist || Zb1 masterlist || Main masterlist

[riotokki]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤꔫㅤWINTER FAIRYTALE⠀𖫲⠀⠀SUNG HANBIN,

͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏𐬹 ୨౿ ꤫ paring⠀𖫲⠀⠀sung hanbin && fem reader, genre⠀𖫲⠀⠀highschool au && series, warnings⠀𖫲⠀⠀will be added in the chapters, wc⠀𖫲⠀⠀???

ㅤꔫㅤSYNOPSIS⠀𖫲⠀⠀winter had always been that time of the year where you'd wish everything would suddenly disappear. but that all changed when you met him, you felt as though a part of you had been found, one that you'd so desperately been searching for.

ㅤꔫㅤSTATUS⠀𖫲⠀⠀on hold,

ㅤꔫㅤUPDATES⠀𖫲⠀⠀???,

ㅤ꒰͡ 𐙚 ͡꒱ㅤCHAPTERS⠀𖫲⠀⠀

prologue⠀𖫲⠀⠀first meeting,

͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏𐬹 ୨౿ ꤫ LETTERS⠀𖫲⠀⠀riotokki, omg..... this took a bit..... anyways hii! i decided to make a series bc why not 🤭 (i probably won't even make it to the prologue but ykw..... whatever 😍) also let's not talk abt the moodboard thing.... idk why i couldn't find stuff that would fit together 😭anyways. hopefully with it being thanksgiving break i can get a few chapters out!!! (i plan on getting the prologue out sometime tomorrow maybe? if everything goes well) but with that being said thats all for now!!! bye bye 🫂💗💗💗

ㅤꔫㅤTAGLIST⠀𖫲⠀⠀@bunreis, @leehanist, ask to join!

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ © riotokki 2023.ㅤꔫㅤonly on tumblr.

[haesunflower]

the soulmates unfortunately series (zb1) [preview]

⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆

ABOUT. here's the thing about soulmates, once you meet the one that is meant for you, you start to age. the biological clock starts to tick, and you are no longer the fresh faced 20 year old. years go by, and next thing you know it, you've grown old and wrinkly – right next to the love of your life. but here's the thing about y/n, she hated that.

y/n has had many soulmates in her lifetime, 4 of which had made a significant impact on her life. namely, her first husband, kim jiwoong. the man that she had a daughter with, zhang hao. the husband that raised her daughter, sung hanbin. and finally, ricky shen. (un)fortunately for her, her soulmates keep dying.

genre: romance with adult themes warnings: mentions of death, blood, character death, killers, cursing, etc. contains adult themes. each chapter will have specified warnings. note: yujin is not in this series as he is not 18 yet.

CHAPTERS

chapter zero: the first few soulmates

chapter one: the man she first married, kim jiwoong

chapter two: the man she had a daughter with, zhang hao

chapter three: the man that raised her daughter, sung hanbin

chapter four: unfortunately, ricky shen

chapter five: the finale

PREVIEW OF CH ZERO. (below the cut)

“Got anything that’ll get me drunk in the next ten minutes?” 

You plopped down on the bar stool, haphazardly placing your purse next to you. The bartender is eyeing you strangely, as if in disbelief that you’re even inside their hole in the wall establishment. 

You sigh and pull out your identification card, a laminated piece of junk that tells you how old you really are. Scratch that, how old you are meant to be. He picks up the card and raises it up next to your face, comparing the woman in the picture to the you that sits in front of him. It reminds you that you need to get it renewed…again. After all, the last time you updated your photo was sometime in the 80s, reflecting a version of you with big hair and large colorful earrings. You don’t blame him for wanting to double check, contrasting the all-black ensemble you currently sport. 

“Listen pal, I just buried my daughter today. I would appreciate it if you could get on with it”. You might not blame him, but you are impatient. 

He slides your ID card back and pours you a whiskey on the rocks. “Sorry for your loss ma’am” he solemnly extends his condolences as he places your drink in front of you. You pick it up, raising it and nodding a “thank you” before taking a large gulp. It burns. 

You outlived your daughter. And you wonder if you’ve been going about life in all the wrong ways.

Atop the alcohol display at the bar is a small TV, flashing a report about a young woman named Somi who was murdered and found dead at her home – leaving her husband a widower. The news station flashed a photo of the blonde couple, sharing that they had just gotten married a week ago. She was beautiful. A shame. 

At that moment, a tall man enters the bar and decides to take a seat next to you. Other than the fact that he too, is dressed in all black – you feel a deeper sense of similarity. Like kindred spirits, you recognize broken souls like yours. You order two more rounds of the whiskey the bartender gave you. 

“I heard about your late wife in the news, I’m sorry for your loss.” You feign sympathy and slide the glass to the man next to you. 

He looks taken aback at first, but accepts your offer. Now facing you, he raises his drink to you. You do the same.

He’s strikingly handsome, with platinum hair and dark eyebrows. You also don’t miss that he’s dressed in Yves Saint Laurent from head to toe. He takes a peek at your ID card still laying on the table, making sure to catch your name. 

“Next one’s on me, Y/N” he says, taking another swig at his whiskey, finishing his glass. He calls on the bartender, and buys an entire bottle for the two of you. The bartender returns his credit card, with the name ‘Shen Quanrui’ engraved. 

“Thank you Quanrui, that’s very generous of you.” 

He puts on a small smile, almost no one calls him by his legal name. “You can call me Ricky” he says as he pours into your glass. 

“Alright Ricky. Here’s to life.” you raise up. It feels inappropriate to be clinking glasses on the day you buried your daughter, but you figured you could make an exemption. Ricky too, seemed to be going through the same thing with his late wife. 

“To life.” he responds, tapping his glass against yours. 

Just two broken souls who had lost someone important in their lives, drinking to fill the hollowness. You almost don’t feel the familiar bloom in your chest, tugging at your entire being like a magnet trying to find its other half. And if you do feel it, you pretend it’s the whiskey burning its place in your heart. 

REPLY OR SEND AN ASK TO BE TAGGED TO THIS SERIES

tagging: @dwcljh@snowflakemoon3@kpoprhia@en-ct@jiaant11@caocoamamam@mashihope@wonluvrbot@littlegirltacos@ihrtgw@ollieluvrs@thejadeazalea@keiwook@yjhcloud@gyuvinnie@doobinnies@forrds

[jjanguri]

tapioca pearl gyubi part ⅟∞

[jebewonmorelike]

✰⋆⁺ Steal Your Heart ⁺⋆✰

*ੈ Part Four: The Emperor ♡ Shen Ricky

♡ Steal Your Heart Masterlist

♡ Read this Introductory Post and the Masterlist for details!

♡ Read Part One, Part Two (Gyuvin), Part Three (Jiwoong), & Part Four (Yujin) Here!

˚☽˚｡⋆ Steal Your Heart: An Interactive Fanfiction Game

... Collect Points to Determine Your Love Interest and Special Ending!!

⁺⋆✰ wc: 10k (i'm literally so sorry, but IN MY DEFENSE. i made you read 0 words all year, so i think you can handle this. you've rested, you've relaxed. you've got this. and it's really goooood)

⁺⋆✰ reader-insert pronouns: none used; n/a -- reader is the 10th member of AU ZB1, but the group is referred to only as an "idol" group. no mentions or descriptions of gender of reader.

⁺⋆✰ chapter warnings: crime (reader was wrongfully convicted of a crime), swearing, depictions of alcohol/club/speakeasy scene, suggestion of a drinking problem, ricky thinks he's drugged but he is not, ricky fault-in-our-stars a cigarette, mild violence, angst, a couple mild suggestive jokes... and lots of fun and insanity! all ages welcome; pg-13+ themes.

⁺⋆✰ summary: for series summary click here. (y/n) attempts to convince ricky to join the phantom thieves to increase their funds for medical supplies by taking a little trip to luxury club jeune et riche. plus: hao requests a bedtime story and a choice between late night shenanigans. inspired by the jrpg persona 5.

⁺⋆✰ please download the scoresheet for the game here!

・゜゜ . . * ✧･ﾟ・ ✧･ﾟ: ・゜゜・．

Long time, no see, Player! Get your scoresheet ready-- we're diving back into the fifth part of our game. Are you ready to see how your Chapter Choice from Part Four plays out? You probably need a little refresher so I'll remind you briefly where we are: Yujinnie just had his awakening in the Metaverse and the Phantom Thieves have decided to recruit Ricky (known (Y/N)-hate BOOOO!) into the fold bc they need his money for medicine and supplies. **also fixed error in last chapter: forgot to put +1 Hanbin Point at the end of Hanbin's choice between him and Matt. So if you didn't add +1 Hanbin point and chose Binnie for that, pls add +1 point to your scoresheet! Remember to tally your points! Let's see what our Emperor arcana has in store...

THURSDAY JUNE 22ND -- AFTERNOON

 All of Gyuvin’s “research” he’d been presenting to the media for the past year finally pays off as the Phantom Thieves sit on their laptops, sifting through the real life evidence you could match to President Kim’s and Manager Sang’s Metaverse confessions.

“Oh sh*t,” Yujin whispers, leaning in closer to his screen. “Guys, I think I found something!”

Rushing over to Yujin’s screen, the rest of you fight for a good view of the document. As you read the scan of TCM’s monthly finance statement from May, Yujin points to two entries.

“Right here, marked ‘Shareholder Contribution’: a payment to the company from Ricky hyung for 34 million won on May 15th,” Yujin says before moving to an entry a few slots below it. “And here: a payment from the company to an account named ‘Choi Byung-chul’ for 34 million won on May 17th.”

“A transfer of the exact same amount as Ricky donated just a couple days later?” Gyuvin poses, scratching the back of his neck. “I’d say it’s suspicious.”

“They’re both signed off by CFO Lee though,” Yujin says with a shrug.

“But who is... Choi Byung-chul?” Jiwoong asks, frowning as he reads the name from the screen.

You’re already on it, searching the name on Naver. You scroll down through the results, finding some retired athlete and a bunch of social media profiles belonging to old men. You’re about to give up, when you spot an idol profile website in the middle of all the results.

You gasp audibly at your discovery. It’s a biography profile for President Kim. And hidden in the “Interesting Facts” section is one incredibly interesting sentence:

Some fans have suspected Kim Hyunwoo’s real birth name is Byung-chul due to an alleged leak of his birth certificate in 2011, though Hyunwoo has denied this.

“Yujin-ah,” you say with a proud grin. “Pick any restaurant you want. Dinner’s on me Saturday night.”

“Huh!?” The youngest asks excitedly. “Why?”

“Because that semester of college has already created a genius,” you say, roughing up his floppy hair. Yujin grins, putting his head down on his arms folded across the desk to hide the shy blush on his cheeks.

“Hey,” Gyuvin pouts. “I’m the one who got the document in the first place.”

You glare at him. He’s always too tall to accurately read the room. Still, you walk over to him and reach up on your tiptoes to ruffle his hair as well. “You certainly are. And I am forever in your debt.”

“Aw, come on. I want dinner too,” he grumbles.

You turn around, finding Jiwoong looking a bit disappointed in his lack of contribution. You fight the urge to giggle at the sight. “And thank you for all your help, Woongie. We couldn’t do this without you.”

Jiwoong pouts, too. “Could’ve fooled me.”

You can’t help but laugh, walking over to him and pinching both of his cheeks. He laughs, shaking his head to escape your grasp. 

“So...” You step back, looking at the rest of the Phantom Thieves. “What’s the plan?”

THURSDAY JUNE 22ND -- NIGHT

“Then if a little man appears who laughs, who has golden hair and who refuses to answer questions, you will know who he is. If this should happen, please comfort me. Send me word that he has come back,” you read the last words on the final page of The Little Prince, turning the book around to show Hao the illustration. You’d started reading the book to him last night, but he’d fallen asleep halfway through.

You close the book, setting it on Hao’s nightstand. Glancing at him, you can tell his tired eyes are watery. 

Mini-Decision: Hao looks like he's about to cry. Will you Make Fun of Him or Comfort Him?

If you chose Make Fun of Him, read below:

“Are you--... Are you f*cking crying?” You ask, jaw dropped as you let out a laugh.

Hao’s brow furrows as he shakes his head quickly. “N-no... Of course not!”

“You totally are,” you say as Hao wipes his eyes with his shirt sleeve. “You’re crying over a children’s book!”

“What the f*ck, (Y/N)?” Hao spits, a pout forming on his lips. He, unfortunately, looks very cute.

“How does it feel? Hm?” You prompt, pouting back at him to make a point. “You make fun of me all the time. And now I can finally make fun of you again. Properly.”

Hao raises his hand and you’re sure he’s about to smack you, but, instead, he gently takes the book from your grasp. He looks at the cover, turning it over in his hands.

“I never even heard of this book until you said it was your favorite a couple years ago,” he remarks with a frown. “They asked us in that Buzzfeed interview.”

“Oh yeah, the normal one,” you reply, recalling that bizarre day of press. “And then after that, they made us read all those Thirst Tweets.”

Hao rolls his eyes. “The fans were saying a whole lot of dirty things about you and not nearly enough about me.”

“Probably wouldn’t have to worry about that anymore,” you say with a laugh.

“Definitely,” Hao corrects, shaking his head. “I definitely don’t, now that we’re having a comeback without you.”

“Wow,” you scoff. “Almost thought we were gonna have a nice moment for the first time this whole year.”

“Mm, I considered it,” he replies with a shrug. “But you just made fun of me in an incredibly vulnerable moment, so I’m thinking we’re gonna rain check that to never. Now get your fat ass off my bed.”

“Right. Okay,” you agree saltily. Maybe you didn’t make any new ground with Hao, but it was totally worth it.

Your bond with Hao has grown stronger. +0 Hao Point. Please add +0 Hao Point to your scoresheet.

・゜゜ . . * ✧･ﾟ・ ✧･ﾟ: ・゜゜・．

If you chose Comfort Him, read below:

Somehow you find it in you to suppress the urge to mock Hao ruthlessly, even though you know he wouldn’t do the same for you.

“It’s kind of scary,” Hao says, a tear rolling down his cheek. “All I keep trying to do is get back to my roses. What if--... What if I disappear too?”

“Well... There’s nothing to worry about now, really,” you answer tentatively. “The company’s preparing a comeback for you guys so—.”

“Oh, you know full f*cking well that we’re doomed before we even start,” Hao huffs annoyedly, sleeve coming up to wipe his eyes. “I just can’t figure out why they’re doing this. President Kim said he’d get me out. That I was worth saving. I don’t understand why he’d push a group comeback all of a sudden…”

Hidden underneath his insufferable self grandiosity, you’d be remiss not to notice Hao’s doubt of President Kim. Even before your incident, you’d never heard Hao express his doubt of Total Control. You wonder how long he’s had these thoughts.

“I don’t understand either,” you reply honestly. Hao’s eyes dart to meet yours in surprise, like he’d forgotten that you were there.

“You’re just pissed you’re not involved,” he says, brow furrowing annoyedly at you. 

You shake your head, confessing truthfully, “I’m not.”

“F*ck off,” Hao replies with a sardonic laugh. 

“I’m not,” you repeat earnestly. “Of course, it makes me really sad. But even more than that, I’m relieved. That you all have even a semblance of a shot to get back everything you deserve. All I’ve wanted this whole time was to finally stop hurting you.”

Hao just blinks back at you for a few moments, clearly conflicted by what you’ve just said. Finally, he rolls his eyes and kicks you with his foot. “Go to bed. You have a long day of doing everything I want you to tomorrow and I won’t be accepting any slacking off.”

Your bond with Hao has grown stronger. +1 Hao Point. Please add +1 Hao point to your scoresheet.

・゜゜ . . * ✧･ﾟ・ ✧･ﾟ: ・゜゜・．

All Continue Reading Below

“Well good night, Little Prince,” you say, hopping off of Hao’s bed. “Sleep tight. Don’t let the businessmen bite.”

You quickly dart your hands to his stomach, fingers touching the exposed skin before tickling him mercilessly. He yelps in shock, arms flying up to pry your hand off of him.

“STOP IT!” Hao shouts, unable to contain his laughter. “(Y/N) STOP! F*CKING STOP!”

You sprint to the door, throwing it open and calling over your shoulder, “GOOD NIGHT, LITTLE B*TCH!”

THURSDAY JUNE 22ND -- LATE NIGHT

Even though you should probably be getting ready for bed so you could be energized for the mission tomorrow, you’re feeling a little too anxious to sleep just yet. You open Kakao Talk, finding only two of your friends are online...

Mini-Decision: Will you choose to spend some time with Gunwook or Taerae?

If you chose Gunwook, read below:

You’d started playing Genshin Impact last September. At the time, you’d all still thought that Gunwook not coming out of his room was a phase. It wasn’t. 

Though you’d originally kind of hated the game, you realized the first couple months after your arrest that you were growing desperate for any interaction with your former friends that you could get. Gunwook had sent multiple messages in the groupchat (that you’d been kicked out of) begging for someone to play with him. Perhaps you were both lonely in the prisons of your own making.

So you started playing, eventually leveling yourself up enough to unlock the multiplayer mode. You sent him a request and he ignored it for a couple days, sending out one last desperate plea to the other members. No one responded.

And that’s how you broke the ice again with the recluse. Sort of. The only thing he’ll entertain your virtual presence for is Genshin. But that’s enough for you, for now.

“F*CK YEAH!” Gunwook exclaims now as you finally defeat the boss you’d been grinding at. He readjusts the arms of his glasses under his headset as you relish in your victory, trying your best to remember not to let any sound out of your mouth. “That was all you at the end there, (Y/N). You’re getting kind of good.”

Thanks, you type into the chat box.

“Took you long enough,” he ribs, that wide, gummy grin lighting up the darkness of his room. “You’ve been playing for months and I’m pretty sure that’s all you have to show for it.”

D*ckhead, you send in reply. He laughs really hard at that and it warms your snowy heart. I’ve basically learned everything I know from you, so I think you’re really the one to blame for the poor progress.

“Oh, so you’re implying I’m a bad teacher,” Gunwook considers, nodding his head. “What if you’re just a bad student?”

Two truths can exist simultaneously, you type after a moment. He adjusts his glasses again, this time pushing his mop of hair out of his eyes. You always forget how youthful his face is, like a teddy bear. Which makes you think of something...

I think I deserve a prize for that win actually, you send quickly.

“Ah yes, why am I not surprised by that line of thinking from you?” He says with a knowing smirk. “What did you have in mind?”

A hug, you send finally after a long moment of hesitation. A really, really big Wookie hug that makes everything okay again.

Gunwook appears to stop breathing, impossibly still as he reads what you wrote. You knew you were taking a risk, but you don’t regret it. He looks down at his lap in anxious contemplation.

Doesn’t have to be now, you send with a sad smile. Just some day.

He presses his lips together as he digests your patient encouragement. It’s not enough to break down his fear and that’s okay. Sometimes it’s just good to let someone know that you miss them.

“Let’s get back to the game.”

Your bond with Gunwook has grown stronger. +1 Gunwook Point. Please add +1 Gunwook point to your scoresheet.

・゜゜ . . * ✧･ﾟ・ ✧･ﾟ: ・゜゜・．

If you chose Taerae, read below:

“Stay 내 눈물이 마를 때까지...”

The sound of perfect vocal tone and the smell of delicious tteokbokki in the air makes you sigh with contentment. What a beautiful summer night on a fairy-light adorned city street. It’s how you feel every time you round the corner to Kim Taerae’s pocha and tonight is no exception.

“Stay, my dear, stay, my dear,” Taerae sings, nearing the end of the song as he strums his guitar thoughtfully. There’s one older couple standing a few feet in front of him, admiring his talents. Oh, how the mighty fall...

The gentleman hands Taerae some money as he and his partner walk in the opposite direction down the street. You take the opportunity to sneak up behind Taerae as he counts the money, quickly grabbing his shoulders when he least expects it.

Of course, you’re treated to the incredible main-vocalist shriek that you were hoping for. You grin evilly as he clutches his chest, glaring up at you.

“Don’t f*cking do that!” He scolds, smacking your leg. “Are you trying to kill me?”

You shake your head, feigning offense.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot I was talking to the Prime Minister of Innocence,” Taerae says with a snort. You frown, actually offended now. “Oh stop. You’re the one who attacked me in the middle of the night.”

You roll your eyes pointedly at his dramatics.

“What are you doing here anyway?” He asks suddenly, one eyebrow piquing suspiciously. “You want tteokbokki again? That’s a lot of junk food for one week.”

You kick him lightly with your foot as you pull out your phone, your screenreader vocalizing, “I came to hear you sing.”

Taerae laughs. “Sure you did. What do you really want?”

You sigh, typing, “I couldn’t sleep.”

Taerae’s lips part at this. Back when you were trainees, you had the worst sleeping health ever. Taerae was your roommate and he’d frequently wake up in the middle of the night to you pacing or having an anxiety attack or crying from exhaustion. One night, he just started singing lullabies and didn’t stop until you’d laid back down and fallen asleep. Eventually with some counseling and improving your daily habits, your sleep pattern mostly returned to normal. But the few times you’d had trouble after that, Taerae would always sing you back to sleep no matter what time it was. Sometimes he’d fall asleep next to you too.

“And walking around the city at night is gonna help you?” Taerae asks, trying to pretend he doesn’t understand. “Go home. Lie down. Close your eyes. I’m gonna start packing up anyway.”

“Just one more song?” Your screenreader asks as you smile at him as cute as is physically possible. “Then I’ll leave you alone.”

“Go,” he orders again, standing up and walking over to his tteokbokki cart-- starting to pack up his supplies for the night. You sigh disappointedly, walking back down the street the way you came. But before you can get too far, you hear a voice start to sing the same melody it sang five years ago...

“Baby, I'm dancing in the dark with you between my arms...”

Your bond with Taerae has grown stronger. +1 Taerae Point. Please add +1 Taerae point to your scoresheet.

・゜゜ . . * ✧･ﾟ・ ✧･ﾟ: ・゜゜・．

All Continue Reading Below

FRIDAY 6/23 -- LATE NIGHT

Ricky takes a drag from his cigarette, blowing out the smoke before he can actually inhale. Just like he always does. Lounging on the purple, velvet vintage couch, a live band plays jazz music as about fifty of the highest elites in East Asia chat and drink around him.

There’s an idol he used to fancy a few years ago talking his ear off next to him. He hasn’t heard a single word they’ve said. But he can’t help it. Every time he tries to focus on something, his mind takes him to a different time.

A time when you were the one talking his ear off every Friday night at the newly opened Club Jeune et Riche. Funny how things change...

Now you can’t even talk.

And even if you could, you’d have to make up for a lot of shit before he’d lend an ear. And that was impossible.

He runs a hand across the purple velvet fabric of the couch, starting to smile to himself at the color before quickly setting himself straight. He makes a mental note to get the couch reupholstered before next week.

“Are you even listening to me?” A voice asks as Ricky stands up and walks over to the bar.

“Martini. Dry. Make it a double,” he says to the bartender flippantly.

“Sure thing, Sajang-nim,” the bartender replies, quickly fixing the drink and sliding it over to Ricky. Ricky nods in thanks.

He takes a sip from the glass with not so much as a wince. It burns, but it doesn’t phase him anymore. He remembers how every drink used to burn when you all were younger. How you used to pour a whole bottle of Grey Goose down his throat after a particularly stressful work week. He always wanted to quit halfway through, but the disappointment in your eyes would be too much for him to bear.

He suddenly wonders if it had always been your desire to destroy him, whether that be by ruining his career or giving him alcohol poisoning.

You made all of his best memories. And you were the worst thing that ever happened to him.

So why does he catch himself wishing you’ll show up at his club again every Friday night?

~

“You can do this,” you mutter to yourself, standing in the dim light of a street lamp across from Ricky’s club: Jeune et Riche. It had been awhile since you’d dared to venture to Cheongdam, what with your rapidly decreasing savings account and tattered reputation. 

Jeune et Riche is packed with beautiful, wealthy people tonight, per usual-- you even recognize a few idols and actors lined up outside, waiting to be let in by the black-tie bouncers at the door. You hadn’t forgotten about the tight security at Ricky’s posh club. How could you, when you were the reason it had been tightened in the first place?

It was a funny story actually. Back before Ricky hated your guts, you used to party every possible Friday night with him and Jiwoong-- occasionally accompanied by other members when they were free or willing, but it was mostly a three-person shindig. When Ricky bought Jeune et Riche last May before the incident, you were still all so busy with your idol schedules that he realized he could only manage to open the club one day a week. He chose Friday as a tribute to you and Jiwoong’s tradition. 

Opening night of Jeune et Riche, you’d gotten so sloshed that you accidentally spilled an entire bottle of Grey Goose on a very angry chaebol son that vowed to come back to the club next week and “bring back-up”. 

Your tall, blonde friend stood in front of you, effectively shielding you as the guy grew more threatening until a couple bouncers finally dragged him out. It’s safe to say Ricky’s security budget tripled because of your drunken mistake. At least he only had to pay them one night a week...

You look at the clipboards the bouncers are holding, knowing full-well your real name isn’t on the list of approved guests. No matter. Tonight, you’re getting into the club as:

Time to see how your Chapter Choice from Part Four plays out, Player! As a refresher, Choice 1 was to go to Ricky's club as Yourself and Choice 2 was to go to Ricky's club in disguise as American art collector Rebecca Song.

⁺⋆✰ If You Chose “YOURSELF”:

Tonight, you’re getting into the club as yourself. Because you’re breaking in. 

After you got off of probation duty yesterday, you’d taken a little ride over to Jeune et Riche to survey the grounds. You put on a beanie and discarded your reflective vest in the backseat of your car. Phone in hand, you snooped around the building as unsuspiciously as possible-- hiding from the only security guard on duty in the early evening. 

Though it took a bit of searching, you’d found a window panel at the back that could easily be removed. You poked your head in, finding that the window was tucked behind the giant, winding staircase that leads to the second floor. It’s a convenient location that might provide you enough coverage to get in unnoticed so you can search for Ricky.

You’d just need to hope that security would be at the front of the building at the time of your little heist. Lucky for you, Gyuvin had given you the perfect idea to guarantee just that.

You make your way towards the lines of people waiting for entry into the (second) most sought after nightlife destination in Cheongdam, wearing your most elegant, couture outfit in order to blend in with the crowds. You settle towards the end of the line, placing the drone Yujin had bought Gyuvin for Christmas last year on the sidewalk in front of you. 

The drone begins to rise off the ground, higher and higher into the sky. You hope and pray Gyuvin knows what he’s doing for once in his life. 

Backing away from the end of the line and high-tailing it around the corner of the building, you hear confused security guards start to yell behind you. The distraction is working. You spot the broken window panel just as two guards start walking your way. You duck behind the wall as they breeze by you. 

“Can’t believe we’ve never had a drone incident before,” one guy says with a huff.

“I know,” the other responds with a chuckle. “What idiots came up with this? Don’t they know we can track the owner from the drone’s hard drive?”

F*ck. You’d have to worry about that later.

As soon as the coast is clear, you sprint to the window panel and start moving it aside. It’s a bit heavier than you expected and, for the first time tonight, you’re really missing your team of Phantom Thieves. Distracting security guards and breaking into buildings isn’t nearly as fun without a team of endearing imbeciles next to you.

The panel finally moves aside enough for you to climb inside. You land on two feet on ornate carpet behind the large staircase. You dust yourself off a bit, fixing your hair before stepping out into the open. You’re shocked at just how elegant everything is.

It’s suave and fashionable and dazzling, just as you’d tried to convince Ricky to design it when he’d first given you a tour of the building last May. You couldn’t believe when he rejected this idea that you felt suited him so well, especially in favor of keeping it “comfy” and “casual” at the time.

Ricky had never particularly liked comfy or casual anything. Why he’d said that originally was beyond your comprehension.

You walk towards the main bar of Jeune et Riche, hundreds of people packed in a vintage Hollywood style lounge. It’s dark, much more like a typical club environment and the music playing is an alluring mixture of house and brass instrumental. You keep your head down, as you walk the perimeter in search of Ricky but he’s nowhere to be found.

You make a haste exit, rerouting to where you remember the VIP lounge being. One door is propper ajar, though red velvet ropes block you from stepping inside. You observe from the entrance instead, since the room is smaller and a bit more well-lit. It’s themed like an up-scale speak-easy and jazz music blares from a live band in white tux jackets. Several celebrities and young public officials stand out to you, the VIP lounge populated by important and beautiful people. The kind of people you don’t fit in with anymore. The kind that Ricky still feels at home amongst.

But he’s not in this room either.

“When I catch you Ricky,” you mumble to yourself. “Ricky, when I catch you...”

Turning around to search the building further, you bump face-first into the impossibly cool fabric of a black, satin dress shirt. The tip of your nose vibrates as the owner of the shirt says, “Oh, do continue. I’m quite curious as to what it is you’re going to do when you catch me.”

You step backwards, eyes meeting steely-blue contacts that don’t do the malicious amusement of the platinum blonde standing in front of you nearly enough justice. He’s in a suit so dark it looks like a void, a red rose in the jacket pocket the only thing lighting up the sea of black. You imagine his eyes are either of these colors behind the contacts.

“Oh, hey Ricky,” you greet quickly, trying not to break a sweat as you feign nonchalance. You’re suddenly glad you didn’t overestimate your acting chops and come in disguise. “Fancy seeing you here! You--... you come here often?”

Your heart drops as he raises his eyebrows quickly at you, one pointer finger gesturing to the ceiling. “Upstairs. Now.”

“Yeah, for sure,” you agree with a sheepish wince as Ricky takes your forearm in his big, slender hand and guides you to the spiraling stairwell. You trudge up each step silently, heat radiating from the spot where Ricky is holding you too tight. At the top of the stairs, he unlocks a pair of large, arched doors and ushers you inside, quickly locking them again behind him.

Much to your surprise, Ricky has brought you into his art studio. And even more surprising, the room is completely empty aside from clean, white canvas tarps covering every surface inch. 

“How did you know I was here?” You ask, eyeing him warily.

“A security guy said a drone had been flying around the perimeter for a bit. They traced the signal back to TCM, so I figured one of you was wreaking havoc on my establishment,” Ricky explains curtly. “I walked around for a bit downstairs and then I smelled purple, so I knew it was you.”

Your left eyebrow piques in confusion. “... What did you just say?”

“I smelled purple so I knew it was--...” Ricky’s mouth closes immediately. “I--... I’ve always thought you smelled like the color--... Oh, forget it.”

“Ooookay,” you agree awkwardly, as Ricky fiddles with the rose in his pocket. You can’t tell if what he just said was meant to be an insult or an accidental compliment, so you just decide to let it slide. Maybe you’d never know what that was supposed to mean. “Hey, how’d you manage to get out of the Friday night meeting?”

He snorts. “Well, the company’s not gonna tell the biggest shareholder not to make his money, now are they?”

“Point taken,” you agree with a nod. “So, where’s all your work? Kinda thought your studio’d be a little more showy.”

“Sold it,” he answers.

“What!? All of it?” You protest with a frown. “What about the one with the cherry blossoms? You said I could have that one!”

“Like you could afford it,” he quips with a sneer.

“Such a f*cking jerk,” you mumble, shaking your head as you turn the other way.

“Oh, I’m the jerk?” Ricky retorts, amusement fading fast. “Last I remember, I’m not the one who murdered someone in cold blood.”

“Do you really think that? Do you really think that I’d ever do something like that?” You ask, head whipping around again. “F*ck Ricky, I know I’m no angel. But if you’re willing to believe after all our years of friendship that I’d ever be capable of that, then... Maybe we were never really friends.”

He looks down at his expensive Italian shoes. Shoes you bought him as a birthday present at Milan Fashion Week. He told you not to waste your money when he could buy them himself, but it wasn’t a waste because what else is there to do with money other than spend it on the people you love?

“Maybe not,” Ricky whispers. “Maybe I never really knew you behind the liquor.”

There could be truth in that, you think. Just not in the way he’s intending it.

“We used to have a pretty good time though,” you muse out loud. “I don’t think I’ll ever feel invincible the way I used to here with you. So f*cked up and everything was just...”

“Perfect,” Ricky finishes and for a second, you think he’s about to smile. “And now everything f*cking sucks. Because of you.”

You nod to yourself, before a thought crosses your mind. “Not everything.”

He laughs callously. “Oh yeah? Please, tell me how you’ve improved my life this year.”

“Well, you finally took my speakeasy theme suggestion,” you say with a shrug. “Seems to be a pretty big hit with the guests.”

Ricky rolls his eyes. “Whatever.”

“It’s f*cking amazing, Ricky,” you assert, throwing your hands out in emphasis. He blinks at you slowly. “It’s exactly like how you always dreamed it would be. It fits who you are so perfectly! Elegant, mysterious, charming... I can’t believe you ever said you wanted to keep it ‘comfy and casual’! It literally SUCKED before-- compared to this.”

Ricky clears his throat suddenly, looking back down at his shoes. “Well, it wasn’t that bad before...”

“Yes, it was,” you insist, crossing your arms. “Maybe alcohol does rot the brain. Literally, what were you thinking?”

“I was thinking about how before I bought the place you said all you wanted was a ‘comfy and casual’ hangout spot for us to party!” Ricky blurts exasperatedly.

You stare at each other, unblinking for a moment as your lips part in shock. “You--... you bought the club for me?”

He shoves his hands in his pockets annoyedly, looking at anything but you. “I... I didn’t say that.”

“Ricky...” You say, eyes starting to water. He looks up at you, his gaze softening.

But it doesn’t last long as the inside of his cheek fits between his teeth. “I guess that doesn’t matter now though.”

You swallow hard. “Because now you wish you never met me. Now you hate me.”

“Yeah,” he affirms, looking you up and down for the first time since he’d caught you-- brow furrowed in introspective hesitation. “But it’s...”

You wait patiently for him to sort through his thoughts. And you’re glad you do.

“Seeing you alone, face to face,” Ricky says, eyes filled with sadness. “It’s become clear again that it’s more complicated than I try to pretend it is.”

Your bond with Ricky has grown stronger. +1 Ricky Point. Please add +1 Ricky point to your scoresheet.

・゜゜ . . * ✧･ﾟ・ ✧･ﾟ: ・゜゜・．

⁺⋆✰ If You Chose “REBECCA SONG”:

Tonight, you’re getting into the club as Rebecca Song: esteemed, American art-collector. It would be the role of a lifetime and you’d been prepping vigorously for the past 48 hours in order to perfect your performance. Jiwoong had found a slinky, black Versace evening dress that some random hook-up had left in his hotel room once (ew, but at least you didn’t have to spend money on an outfit). 

Gyuvin had snuck into the stylists’ storage space while at the company on Thursday and found a long, sophisticated blonde wig from one of the episodes of your old variety show you’d filmed a couple years ago. Taerae had played a character named “Tammy”. It’s better if it’s not explained any further than that.

Yujin had enlisted a very confused but elated Hanbin to teach you to “slay” harder. You’d mastered werking and serving since your debut, but you have to admit that slaying had never come particularly easy to you. Hanbin fixed your issue in a little over an hour, with lots of accompanying laughter and blackmail photo-taking from your maknae.

You’d even enlisted the help of Gunwook to make a realistic, credible website for heiress, art-collector Rebecca Song. He’d looked at you strangely through his webcam, one eyebrow raised in suspicion as he stared at the document of information you needed him to include. Right as you thought he’d been about to refuse, you wired him 150,000 won through Kakao Pay. He got to work right away after that and the result was... convincing enough for Ricky.

The final touch was a very official-sounding text message from Rebecca’s representatives, which you sent from a fake American number around dinner time this evening. Though he’d been skeptical at first, the link to the website Gunwook made is enough to convince your genius-of-art but not genius-of-smart ex-friend. You request an invite to Jeune et Riche for tonight.

Hook, line and sinker. ‘I hope she looks forward to meeting with me.' Classic Shen Ricky.

And now, you make your way to the VIP line outside of Ricky’s club. You have to admit, it feels pretty good to be considered a VIP again. Even if you have to pretend to be a completely different person to receive the special treatment.

Much to your surprise, Ricky is waiting outside-- pacing nervously back and forth nervously as he wrings his hands together. When he spots you in the red velvet roped line, Ricky jogs over to you immediately. 

He nods his head respectfully, a hand outstretched for you to shake. “It’s a pleasure to make my acquaintance, I’m sure of it. I’m Ricky.”

Your hands are covered in long, elegant satin gloves; your eyes shielded by fashionable sunglasses and a haute couture wide-brimmed hat. “Charmed,” you reply, a glimmer of hope lightening your spirit at the believability of your American accent. “Miss Rebecca Song, of the American Song elite dynasty.”

“Wow,” Ricky says, looking you over from head to toe. He appears to be delighted by your appearance. “You’re absolutely breath-taking. I mean, seriously. This must be how others feel when they meet me.”

You look at Ricky, fighting every urge in your body to smack him silly. He does kind of have a point, though. From the icy, blonde hair, to the sleek, all black formal attire... You realize you’ve accidentally dressed up as the female version of Ricky.

It would only make sense that he’s attracted to you like this. You’ve caught him flirting in the mirror with himself more times than you can count.

This was not what you had intended. But if it would help the chances of a successful operation, you might as well just roll with it.

Ricky keeps your hand tucked delicately in his as he leads you through the entrance of Jeune et Riche and into the VIP lounge. His presence is met with happy uproar, men in suits standing up to clink their glasses with his and guests of all genders ogling him with desire. 

Amid the chaos, Ricky laces his arm through yours to keep you steady next to him. He escorts you to the bar-- a black-tie bartender shimmying over faster than lightning to assist his employer. “What will you be having to drink, Sajang-nim?”

“I’ll have an old-fashioned,” Ricky responds before looking to you. “Miss Song?”

“I--.”

“Actually, could I make a recommendation?” Ricky asks with a smile and, honestly, you’re a bit distracted by that smile. You haven’t seen it in such a long time. You nod. “We’ve just added a cocktail that’s become quite popular with guests already. It’s called the French 76.”

“French Seventy... Six?” You ask, assuming he misspoke.

Ricky laughs. “Yes, it’s a new spin on the French 75. Instead of gin, it’s made with vodka.”

You freeze. “Vodka?”

“Yes, it’s really very good,” Ricky encourages. “You can’t go wrong with Grey Goose.”

Grey Goose. You haven’t had Grey Goose since...

You look up at him cautiously, searching his eyes for any sign that Ricky’s already recognized you and is putting you to the test. But your search comes up empty. He’s just really excited about the new cocktail.

It would be suspicious if you refused. So you nod quickly, forcing a small smile on your lips, “Sounds divine.”

Ricky’s arm laces with yours again as you ascend the spiral staircase up to his studio. Slaying on level ground had become fairly easy, but Hanbin hadn’t mentioned anything about slayage at an incline. Short form: you were thankful for Ricky’s uncharacteristic thoughtfulness.

How lucky could one (fictional) girl be?

Pulling a keycard out of his wallet, Ricky unlocks the arched doors that lead to his studio. He holds the right door open for you as you step inside.

You’d actually never been inside Ricky’s art studio before. It was a space that had always been strictly  off limits to you and the other members, so to finally be seeing it like this made you feel a bit…

Guilty.

The room is large but surprisingly humble in decor, the floors and walls all covered in white cotton sheets. There’s splatters of paint scattered throughout the well-lit studio-- easels with finished work displayed on them gathered at the center of the space, too far away to see them properly.

But as you step closer to the painting in front of you, you gasp as you recognize the subject depicted in them immediately...

It’s you.

“These are my exclusive pieces from my canceled gallery. It was titled Ambivalence,” Ricky says quietly. “It means to have conflicting or opposing emotions at the same time toward one subject.”

You swallow, trying to regain your composure as you move to the next painting and then the next and the next. They’re all of you. Different degrees of hatred seeping into each depiction of your likeness; purple and red the main color motif throughout the gallery pieces. Some of them feature other members of your group alongside you.

Some of them are just you. 

“Who--...” You stammer, trying to swallow down the lump that’s forming in your throat. “Who is the subject?”

Ricky stiffens. “Someone I used to know.”

“Used to know!?” You exclaim indignantly. Clearing your throat, you bluff, “I mean... I’ve seen many artists who... paint one subject over and over, motivated by intense emotion. The colors and technique you use suggest that this is still a fresh wound.”

“Hm,” Ricky hums, looking down at the floor as he considers your words. “Perhaps I’ve been too obvious in my approach. I should throw these away and try again...”

“NO!” You shout, grabbing his arm and keeping him from shredding up his work on the spot (which you know is a regular pattern of his). Ricky’s gaze falls to your gloved hand wrapped around his arm. “No, I find them worthy of my collection... because of their rawness.”

Ricky turns back to the painting in front of you. “I see.”

“Could you explain to me what the two colors represent?” You ask, urging him to spill a little more to you.

He nods slowly, pointing at the canvas with his pinky finger to the fiery red washes across your face. “The red, of course, represents anger. Resentment. Hatred. Loathing. For what they did. And how they hurt me.”

“Right. Of course.” Your cheeks burn red just like the painting at the intensity of Ricky’s distaste for you. He moves his finger to the rich, purple washes on the painting.

“The purple hues... “ Ricky trails off, coughing lightly as if he’s embarrassed by something. “The subject wears a fragrance that smells like the color purple to me. So I always associate purple with them.”

You raise your eyebrows at this. Ricky had never mentioned associating you with the color purple before.

“I think that the purple represents the subject themself,” he says, nodding definitively to himself. “And, the truth is, I’ve always truly adored the color purple.”

The sudden confession makes you dizzy. Lightheaded, you stumble into a very surprised Ricky’s arms. 

“Oh, Miss Song,” he says, holding you close. “I’ve touched you with the tortured depths of my soul. You’ve fallen in love with me, haven’t you? This wouldn’t be the first time this has happened...”

Ricky is close to you. Too close.

“How funny,” he says slowly, in a way that suggests he’s noticed something very unfunny. “You smell like purple, too.”

You jerk backwards, trying to get out of his range of scent but you stumble on the hem of your dress-- falling backwards into an easel...

Your wig snags on the corner of the easel, falling off your head as your sunglasses clatter to the floor. Ricky is alarmingly silent as you wince at the ground.

“Guess you can give it up,” he says, your eyes meeting finally. “The aversion to the Grey Goose makes a lot of sense now.”

“I knew you really hated me, but,” you say quietly. “I didn’t know it was enough to fuel a whole gallery of paintings.”

“It could probably fuel a few more galleries, honestly,” he replies with a shrug. “But, like I said, it’s more... complicated than that.”

Your bond with Ricky has grown stronger. +2 Ricky Points. Please add +2 Ricky points to your scoresheet.

・゜゜ . . * ✧･ﾟ・ ✧･ﾟ: ・゜゜・．

All Continue Reading Below

You nod slowly. “Is the... complication... the reason you haven’t kicked me out yet?” 

“No. I’m actually kind of flattered that you’d go to such lengths to spend some time with me,” he answers with a sad smile. “Something must be really wrong. So spill.”

“I--... I need your help,” you confess after a moment with a heavy sigh. “I really, really need your help with something.

Ricky swallows hard, eyes widening slightly at your request. “Why me? Can’t you ask Gyuvin or Hanbin hyung or--?”

“No, I can’t,” you interject quickly. “I need your help, Ricky. And I... I can’t really offer much more of an explanation than that until you see the situation for yourself.”

Your tallest, blondest friend looks at you for a long time. Then he laughs, a small smile turning up the corner of his lips. “I always knew you’d come begging for my help some day. I honestly can’t believe it took this long.”

“Ugh, I hate it when you do that,” you reply, rolling your eyes. “You’ve always gotta turn everything into one big Ricky d*ck-suck.”

Ricky coughs awkwardly at your sudden familiarity. “So, what’s the ‘situation that I have to see for myself’? I should probably assess it before deciding whether or not to provide assistance.”

You take your phone out of the Gucci purse slung over your shoulder and check the time. 11:57 P.M. The boys would be done at the company soon. “We can go now, if you want? I’ll drive.”

“You want me to get in a car with you behind the wheel? Seriously?” Ricky asks, staring at you like you have two heads. “Your driving isn’t exactly award-winning.”

“Don’t you fucking say another word,” you say, kneeling in front of him as you grab his tie in one hand and cover his mouth with the other. He stares at you, shocked by the assertiveness and close proximity-- his ears turning red even as you loosen your grip.

“Let’s go,” Ricky says quietly when you remove your hand from over his mouth, standing up and brushing off his black suit pants. 

“Yeah. Let’s.”

~

You’ll never admit it to Ricky, but you’re extra, extra careful as you drive him to the Total Control building. You were always a good driver, but you really didn’t need any more flack from him. Ricky calmed down after the first few minutes and a slightly comfortable, slight uncomfortable silence has settled over you.

That is until you realize something major.

“HOLY SHIT, MY VOICE!” You yell, the sudden blast of sound causing Ricky to jump in his seat and clutch his chest. “You never said anything about my voice!”

“Oh, right,” he replies, rubbing his collarbone anxiously. “Honestly, Hao showed me a PowerPoint presentation he made a few months ago claiming you’d been faking it this whole time. He was pretty convincing so I sort of just went with it.”

“Yeah, that sounds like Hao,” you say through gritted teeth. “But it’s not true. My voice came back on Monday, actually. I’m--... I’m trying to keep it on the down low.”

“Are you asking me to keep your secret?” Ricky asks as he stares at the side of your face. “You can’t possibly think the chances of that are very good.”

“Not yet,” you agree, pulling into a parking spot on the street behind the company building. You scan the back entrance for the other boys, but they’re nowhere to be found. “But I’m willing to bet they’ll improve drastically in a few minutes.”

“Didn’t remember you being so hopelessly optimistic,” Ricky remarks with a frown.

From the back entrance of the building, Jiwoong suddenly emerges. He looks around and you flash your lights to let him know you’re there. 

“C’mon,” you command, stepping out of the car and walking toward Jiwoong as Ricky follows far too leisurely behind. “Would a little urgency kill you?”

“I’d prefer not to take any chances,” Ricky answers with a smirk. 

When you reach the door, Jiwoong ushers you both inside. He removes the black face mask he’s wearing, putting a hand on Ricky’s shoulder. “Hey man. How are you?”

“You are not getting invited back to Jeune et Riche,” Ricky replies coldly. “So don’t even think about it. Do you know how much I had to shell out to get the paparazzi to delete those pictures of you making out with the President’s son?”

“President Kim doesn’t have a son,” you reply with a frown.

Ricky chews his cheek, correcting, “The President of Korea.”

Jiwoong presses his lips together in embarrassment. “Good to see you too.”

“What are we doing here?” Ricky asks, looking around the dusty basement of TCM. “I’m allergic to poor air quality.”

“Isn’t everyone allergic to--?” Jiwoong starts to ask needlessly before you cut him off.

“We’re going up,” you say, walking over to the open elevator and stepping inside-- Jiwoong on your heels. 

“Who is this ‘we’ you speak of?” Ricky asks, following you onto the elevator and then shoving you back out into the hallway. “You are legally barred from stepping foot on any foot occupied by TCM property or personnel. There’s no way you have the money to pay the fine for that.”

At this point, he’s probably right, you think as you force your way back onto the elevator. Luckily, you and the rest of the Phantom Thieves had already devised a plan in case things go awry. You could count on them, couldn’t you?

You glance at Jiwoong, who is busy pressing every elevator button to every floor in the building and giggling like a little sh*t.

What’s another few hundred thousand won?

Though you have to go through a few extra floors, you eventually reach your destination: the business and finance department. You step off the elevator, pulling a face mask up to shield any of your identifying features.

“Where are the others?” You ask, looking around for Gyuvin and Yujn’s hiding spot.

“Others?” Ricky asks a little too loud. You and Jiwoong shush him mercilessly and he snarls in response.

“I dunno actually,” Jiwoong whispers as you round the corner. “Gyubinnie just said to trust him.”

“And you did!?” You whisper-scream back at him. Before he can defend himself, the door next to you suddenly opens and a large hand pulls you inside a room. Gyuvin shuts the door quietly behind Ricky as you all file in. You look around, realizing you’re in some sort of utility closet. 

“Okay, with no due respect, what the f*ck is going on?” Ricky demands, quickly growing tired of this whole thing. 

“So, this is gonna be hard to believe but--,” Jiwoong starts to explain before Yujin cuts him off.

“We’ve got three minutes left of our break,” Yujin says, checking his phone. “He’ll be fine. None of us got an explanation beforehand.”

“An explanation of what?” Ricky prods again to no avail, tongue poking at his cheek in frustration.

“He’s right,” you agree, nodding at the youngest. “There’s nothing we could say that would actually prepare him anyway. So let’s go.”

"COMMAND RECEIVED. NAVIGATING TO: THE METAVERSE: LEVEL 1 SAFE ROOM. ENJOY YOUR STAY."

Despite the MetaNav registering your command, the atmosphere fails to change. You wait for a moment and then another and another... 

“I’m leaving,” Ricky announces suddenly to which Gyuvin responds by blocking the door. “Step out of the way. I did not sign up for nonsense.”

“It’s not nonsense,” Yujin argues. “Just hold on a second.”

“Unlike you four, I actually have a life to attend to,” Ricky says, starting to wrestle with Gyuvin to ge to the door handle. “So, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be--.”

Ricky grabs the door handle, throwing it open to reveal a giant castle vault in place of the plethora of office desks. Piles of gold line the stone floors and rows and rows of small, locked depositories line the walls.

Ricky stares at the sight before him, gobsmacked as he takes it all in. “You--... You...”

“... ‘You deserve an apology’?” Gyuvin finishes for him, rubbing the spot on his rib cage where Ricky had shoved him. “I think that’s what you were trying to say.”

“You f*cking drugged me!?” Ricky shouts, fuming as his gaze fixes on you. “I thought you--... I really thought you needed me. But you were just playing a sick f*cking joke on me! I’m so f*cking stupid.”

You blink back at him, a bit stunned by the sadness in his voice.

“I thought I was going to get to trust you again.”

The bitter disappointment in Ricky’s eyes is enough to break your heart all over again. But you’d only have to endure the pain for a little while longer. Hopefully.

He walks to the center of the vault, picking up a small gold coin and flipping it over in his hand. Then he throws it at a vase, shattering it into innumerable pieces. “F*CK YOU!”

“Should we stop him?” Jiwoong asks, grimacing at the uncomfortable sight.

You shake your head. “No, he needs to--.”

Your sentence is cut short by the sound of a metallic clink hitting the stone floor. You walk over to the shattered vase, sifting through the debris to find a gold key. Picking it up, you turn around-- taking a closer look at the vases littered around the atrium of the vault. There’s a set of English letters inscribed on each one. 

“Our initials!” You exclaim. “Each vase has one of our initials on it. This one must’ve been mine.”

“Where’s Ricky’s?” Gyuvin asks, immediately running over to begin searching. 

“I found it!” Yujin calls, beckoning you all over. 

Ricky looks at the vase confusedly. “This is a really weird trip.”

Jiwoong grabs a gold coin, waiting for your signal before smashing the vase-- a key clinking to the ground. You pick it up, examining the key and comparing it with yours when you suddenly hear a ‘hm’ from the other side of the vault. You turn to find Ricky looking at the rows of safes on the back wall.

“What’d you find, bud?” Jiwoong asks cautiously.

“Our initials,” Ricky answers after a moment. “They’re on these safe boxes, too. You know, I really would’ve thought I’d be hallucinating less of you all.”

“Ricky, you’re amazing!” You exclaim, running over to him and forcing up his hand to high-five you. 

“I know and I’m not surprised you’d think that,” Ricky agrees-- shaking his head. “But no amount of flattery is going to--.”

You shove him out of the way, looking for Ricky’s initials as he sulks in the corner.

“Got it!” Gyuvin says, tapping on the copper safe. You hand Ricky’s key to him, but as Gyuvin presses it into the lock...

BRRRRRRAAAAAAANG. BRRRRRAAAAAANG.

“Sh*t,” you exhale as a piercing alarm sounds, pointing to a hidden conclave to the right of the wall of safes. “Hurry, in here!”

Four shadow guards march into the vault, equipped with glaives that seem much bigger and sharper than the ones previous guards held. Directly behind them, is a figure that you’ve seen before, dripping in gold-threaded silk...

Chief Financial Officer Lee.

President Kim’s ex-wife’s older brother, CFO Lee had been brought onto the company quite recently after the collapse of TCM’s stocks last year. The previous CFO quit in a hurry to save his reputation and President Kim needed an... easy... replacement. From what you read online, he does at least have a college degree. In graphic design.

Suddenly you realize that, in the race to the hiding spot, you forgot to take Ricky with you. Well... Maybe it would speed up the awakening process... Best case scenario...

“CFO Lee?” Ricky asks, closing his eyes really hard and then reopening them. “What--... what are you wearing?”

“Really? That’s his first question?” Yujin asks with a frown.

“Ricky-sshi, how good it is to see you,” CFO Lee bellows as he and the guards move closer. The Phantom Thieves assume the defense as you signal for them to hold their fire. “You were missed at the last shareholders’ meeting. And the one before that.”

Ricky’s brow furrows. “I had a thing.”

“Oh yes. You always have a thing,” CFO Lee says with a malicious smirk, approaching the wall of safes. CFO Lee twists the key still sitting in the lock, opening the safe with Ricky’s initials on it. From the conclave, you can see that inside the safe are dozens of parchment scrolls, each tied with red, velvet ribbon. He removes the largest scroll from this safe, untying the ribbon and handing it to Ricky. “You make it so easy for us to make our financial decisions without you.”

Ricky opens the scroll, reading carefully what’s written on it. After a moment, he shakes his head. “I--... I don’t understand. This is just a list of all the shareholder donations I made to the company this year.”

“A closer look, perhaps?” CFO Lee suggests with evil delight. “How about you read it aloud for us all to enjoy?”

“Bastard,” Gyuvin mumbles under his breath.

“Below is a list of every contribution made by top shareholder Shen Ricky to the receiving parties...” Ricky pauses, brow raising in shock. “Kim Hyunwoo and Lee Jungil? But--... But...”

“The King has had such a hard time managing his kingdom,” CFO Lee says, ripping the scroll from Ricky’s hand. “He can hardly afford his penthouse in Hannam-dong or the new BMW he had to buy after his... accident.”

“What!? No,” Ricky asserts, grabbing the scroll back from CFO Lee and reading it over again. “No, that can’t be true. I--... That money is supposed to keep the company afloat. It’s supposed to go toward all of our dorm expenses and debts until our contracts expire.”

“Oh, do not fret, Ricky-sshi,” CFO Lee replies, voice coated in venom. “Your contributions also helped us pay off the expenses of bribing the court for (Y/N)-sshi’s trial.”

“This--... this is just a hallucination... This isn’t real,” Ricky attempts to assure himself, but you can tell it isn’t really working. You press your lips together, waiting for him to come to his own realization. He looks down at the scroll. “But I--... How can I read this so clearly? Shouldn’t it be all jumbled and blurry? Or not make any sense?”

“How about we test this reality?” CFO Lee suggests, motioning to the guards. The four shadow guards charge at Ricky, prompting you to give the Phantom Thieves a signal to attack. You dart out behind the corner into the atrium of the vault, each directing your powers at a different guard. But for some reason, the guard Gyuvin targets does not take the damage and it instead reflects back at your best friend. Ice engulfs his large hand before shattering to the ground, leaving a wicked frostbite across every inch.

“Ai-ssh,” Gyuvin seethes in pain, but you’re too busy watching in horror as the guard left unharmed pierces the fabric of Ricky’s suit jacket at his shoulder, pinning him to the wall of safes. 

You see the shift in Ricky’s eyes. The pure terror, the anguish, and finally the rage that this is real. He screams, sweat trickling down his face. It was a close call and, luckily, it was just close enough to break him...

I SEE YOU HAVE FINALLY AWOKEN. HOW LONG-AWAITED OUR FIRST MEETING IS. I AM GOEMON, FAMED ROBINHOOD OF JAPAN. THE PLEASURE IS ALL YOURS, OF THIS I HAVE NO DOUBTS. LET US NOW BE ONE AS WE TAKE BACK THE RICHES THEY’VE STOLEN AND GIVE THEM TO THOSE IN NEED.

Schrrip...

New Confidant Unlocked: Emperor *ੈ Shen Ricky

“I assume that never gets any easier to watch,” Jiwoong whispers to you, wincing in horror.

You shake your head solemnly. “Never.”

A slow, dark laugh draws your attention back to Ricky, still pinned against the wall of safes. He grabs the glaive by its handle and rips it out of the wall, shoving it through the guards’ shadowy head. 

The guard disappears in a cloud of black smoke, revealing Ricky in a spotted cat mask. You help surround CFO Lee, smirking at Ricky as he takes control like a natural. He extends his hands artfully, almost like he’s about to paint across a canvas.

“Keynes, Hamilton, Li Ka-shing... Lee Jungil,” Ricky says, eyeing CFO Lee like he’s prey. “What do these men have in common?”

CFO Lee gulps. “We--... We’re all finance guys?”

Ricky smiles.

And you’re all dead men. ‧ ₊ ✫ ˚・

A blast of thick, black paint pours from Ricky’s fingers, coating CFO Lee entirely. He begins to cry for help as the paint leaks into his mouth and eyes. No one moves.

New Skill Unlocked: True Artist's Grace ᝰ.ᐟ

“You-’ll--... you’ll pay for this,” CFO sputters as paint drips down his throat, liquid body collapsing to the ground. “You’ll--... Pay...”

Only a black puddle of paint is left in front of you. 

“Ricky,” you call, running over to him. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine,” he answers quietly, eyes devoid of emotion. He looks completely drained. “Can we just--... can we just leave this place? Whatever it is?”

You nod. “Yeah, I think it’s about time we head out. Back to the utility closet.”

When you finally finish explaining everything to Ricky, he stares straight ahead at the Han River as you sit parked at the overlook in your car.

“Why did you pick me?” He asks suddenly.

You tilt your head to the side. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, surely there were better choices of members to get involved,” he reasons with a shrug. “Taerae, Hanbin-- Matthew gets here Sunday. They’ve all been far nicer to you in the past few months than I have. So why me?”

“Honestly?” You offer, bracing for his reaction. “We need medicine and supplies if we’re gonna do this. Luckily, you didn’t get hurt in there but... Last time, Yujin took a real beating. I was incredibly hesitant, but he suggested that we bring you on board because we don’t have the money to get it ourselves.”

Ricky chuckles to himself sadly. “I appreciate the lack of sugar-coating.”

“But I’m really, really glad we did choose you, because--.”

“I’ll do it,” Ricky cuts you off. “I’ll help you. So save the theatrics for someone who wants them.”

You look down at your lap awkwardly.

“In exchange for a favor,” he adds quickly. You look up to find him smirking at you.

“I don’t like that look,” you say, grimacing. “But fine. What do you want?”

“I’ve been feeling like my art has really suffered since last year. Between running the club and helping with my father’s business in China, I haven’t had time to return to the basics like I should,” he explains.

“Where is this going?” You ask, growing annoyed.

“Will you be my model tomorrow evening?” Ricky asks, charming eyes staring back at you. “I’ll be focusing on perfecting... the human form.”

“EW!” You squeal, smacking his shoulder. He winces a little too hard and you consider criticizing his theatrics. “You are so disgusting.”

He laughs genuinely now. “I was right: the look on your face is, in fact, priceless. I don’t actually need any favors from you. I’m in. But if you wanna come by my studio tomorrow evening and be a fully-clothed model for me, you’re more than welcome. I--... I’d really like to--...”

“I’d really like to catch up with you, too, Ricky,” you finish for him, whether it’s what he was going to say or not. And you mean it.

The only problem is...

You told Yujin that you’d treat him to dinner tomorrow night.

⁺⋆✰ Chapter Choice ✰⋆⁺

It's up to you, Player. Will you choose... Please note that only readers that are Yujin’s age/minors should choose Yujin, as this choice will have slight romantic elements. Thank you!

CHOICE 1: Dinner with Yujin

OR

CHOICE 2: Paint with Ricky

[haolovre]

His yandere

you have a crush on park gunwook, well actually over the days it turned into a obsession. and you will do absolutely anything for him to be urs.

paring: high school student! park gunwook x obsessed! stalker! reader

warnings: murdering and anything with that, stalking… idk help

inspo/credits: yandere simulator! (I dont support the developers just got the idea from there game!)

Trailer

“Mom why are u guys going to move to america! What about me!!” U said to your mom. “ Well u and your father thought we needed a break from our work, but don’t worry honey if something happends just give me call!”

That were the last words that your mom said after closing the door.

Ur mom always said to not look in the basement. Well because she was gone why not have a look u thought.

U opened the basement door. U went down the stairs to find tapes scattered all over the room.

U picked one up and listened to it.

“What, where am i” u heard ur fathers voice “oh sweetie u finally woke up, it was nice seeing u sleep but after a while got a little boring” u were shocked that was ur mom’s voice….

“What.. Where am i” “honey this is our home” “our home.. OUR HOME” “why u look so shocked darling?” “We never talked.. how why..i-“ “well as we now get to know each other i baked ur favorite cookies”

the tape stoped…

u stood there shocked.. ur mom did WHAT to your father.

u found ur moms dairy.

“04/06/1979

dear dairy,

This mr.journalist has ruined my life, now i can’t have the perfect first meeting with senpai. And when i find him i want to murder him, rip is hart out and shove it down. But i have to lay low as if i get blood on my hand now, i definitely have no chance with senpai. Well never thought i had to use plan k: kidnap senpai, so that he will stay with me forever. Only he will know me as ‘the girl that was on tv’ but don’t worry will get along just fine, as i know everything that he likes and dislikes,

miyoung out!”

… u were shocked. Your dad was kidnapt because she had a obsession on him..

you we’re shocked, but fascinated

taglist: (give me a comment and ill put u in:D)

masterlist

masterlist of this serie