dovediva

[dovediva]

Just saw this on tt and OMGGGGGGGGGGGGGG

.

[dovediva]

namgyu having drug hallucinations of you during the games, a distorted version of you but even then that is another level of missing and yearning idc

[dovediva]

If you need me, I’ll be in the sin closet.

[dovediva]

I made a statement

[dovediva]

It would've made so much sense if they ended up together honestly

I crave a Raj/Howard proposal fic. I want them discussing their trauma. I want them talking about the moment they fell in love. I want Leonard to be the biggest supporter. I want tears, emotion, hurt, but I also want passion. Why must this ship so unpopular for fanfic??? Like does anyone know of a proposal fic of these two??

[dovediva]

I'd literally kill for some good accurate big bang theory fics esp raj and leonard. our fandom can't be THIS small yall 😭

.

[dovediva]

MAYBE THIS TIME

namgyu x f!reader

Synopsis: one night you snap. exhausted after years of compressing your true feelings — angst and all the sinful things you feel within yourself. you wanted to be a good, polite girl. but after one night at work — a physical fight between you and a coworker unravels all your hard work. it all comes tumbling out and with it comes a sense of freedom. a recklessness. you take it to your advantage really, especially when it comes to confessing your feelings toward your roommate, namgyu.

Warnings: drug usage, reader takes drugs, swearing, violence, mentions of bl00d. no smut but future chapter will contain. +18

You’re unravelling. It’s blatantly clear to you now. You’d built up walls over your years — compressing the inner turmoil deep within your skin, all that hot anger and temperament hidden under the facade of a polite girl. A girl who doesn’t take — doesn’t crave, doesn’t fight. Just keels over and gets to work.

Your jobs always been a nightmare. A shitty club which is surprisingly always populated considering it’s hidden down one of the dodgy backstreets of Seoul. The consumers are gross. Toxic. Most work nights consisted of you being sleep deprived — overworked, people barking their drink orders at you over the loud thrum of the clubs beat. If not that then on multiple occasions would they try and get physical with you, inappropriately. You’d told your boss, obviously. But he’s the type to keep those things quiet.

To keep the customers happy.

He didn’t care for the staff. And speaking of staff — they’re just as terrible. They still see you as the newbie even though you’ve been there for over a year. Teasing you, degrading you. Muttering amongst themselves when you pass by. At first, you simple saw it as banter. You’d smile — laugh, shrug it off but when it became consistent? It became clear that this was a one sided joke.

You were always the punchline.

And tonight. You’re especially tired. The endless work hours made the concept of a sleep routine impossible. You’d work — go home early hours, prep for the next shift, sleep for two hours and then you’re straight back behind the bar. It’s caught up to you tonight, however. That’s apparent by your tired eyes, the way your under eyes hang lower than usual — your hair fairly unmeshed yet untamed all the more. You don’t feel present — like you’d left your soul at home and only a shell of yourself is working.

Your customer service is usually spot on, but you can’t help the flatness in your tone as you engage with customers — the lack of presence, or even a smile.

“Seven fifty.” You say blankly, holding out the card to reader to one of the regular customers. A greasy old fuck who’s especially disgusting towards you. He pays — tapping his card. You never had trouble with that, more so the way he looks and sneers — his eyes invading your body with a sleazy roll.

“You look tired.” He shouts, raising his voice over the music so that his shitty comment can be heard clearly. You hear it, you always do and usually you’d flash a fake smile, or laugh — just to keep him happy. But tonight, you don’t even bother to look at him or reply - simply placing the card reader down and moving to your next customer.

He doesn’t like that.

“Hey! I’m talking to you.” He says.

You’re already preparing the next customers drink, shaking up a cocktail between two silver cups when you land your vacant eyes on him.

“I heard.” You say, tone low — so low that he leans over the counter, a hand behind his ear. You stare at him, jaw clenching — the club lights illuminating your skin. You hadn’t the energy — youi flicker your eyes to the clock. You still had 6 hours to go.

“What?” He shouts again.

“I said I fucking heard!” You snap, tone higher this time when you emphasise your cussing. Not only did he hear it, evident by the dropping of his face - but so did your co workers, the shitty ones especially.

“You fucking cunt, who do you think you’re talking to?” He replies, tone loud — all the while the other customer you’re serving is already asking you how much he owes while you’re still in the middle of making his drinks. Your eyes dart between the two — the club music bellowing louder into your ears as a heat parades your skin. The overstimulation slowly creeping in.

That on top of the fact he’d just called you a cunt.

You slam the shakers you’re holding down, so violently that the contents splatter out. “What did you call me?”

“Oh so you heard that, huh? Cunt.” He replies, sleazily and degradingly — a smile working its way on to his face, satisfied that he’d got a rise out of you. You fix your jaw to the side, eyes wide in feverish shock — disgust, like all the months frustrations of working here were finally about to tipple out and unload on this guy.

You brace one hand on the bar and curl your hand around one of the cocktails shakers and no prior thought or contemplation enters your mind before your chucking the contents of it into his face. It drenches him — a mix of booze and some other stuff, as he shoots up — recoiling in shock and disgust.

And worst of all, you smile.

No false shit that they trained you to do — a real smile. But you don’t get far when one of your co workers grabs your shoulder and pulls you back and toward them.

“What the fuck?” She shouts, a mean expression on her face like you’d just assaulted someone of high importance. Your coworkers are blissfully ignorant — following the bosses rules just to stay on his good side. They’ll take the hits, the flirting — the extra tips. In fact they love it — the attention, even if it’s off all the wrong people.

You glare at her. She’s one of the worst. Especially when it comes to mocking you. She made the wrong choice putting herself in your line of fire tonight.

“Are you fucking stupid, huh?” She shouts, right into your face that you can feel little darts of spit hit your cheek from how strongly she barks at you. You merely flinch though, your exhaustion like a shield — completely numb to her verbal assaults after months of taking it. You can hear the guy cussing you out and demanding for a free drink behind you — but it falls onto your deaf ears.

All you do is glare at your coworker, almost eager for her to give you a reason to slap her right across her smug face.

“You’ve done it now, the boss will be hearing about this.”

You smile at that, widespread and ignorant as a little laugh leaves your nose. She acts all team player, like the best of the best. But she’s held at such high standards for one reason alone, she fucks the boss. You’re quiet — but not stupid.

“Right after you suck him off?” You say slowly, dragging out the last word with intent to scold her. Whatever care you had now flew out the window. No worry of consequence — merely tired of being here anymore, of being overworked and still getting shit pay. Everyone looked down on you, but not tonight.

Her expression drops at that. Your words setting a pinkish embarrassment on her face — that only grows your smile, even so when another coworker snickers. But you didn’t anticipate how she draws her hand back and slaps you right across your face however.

It’s a hard blow — an instant hot sting as your head whips to the side. You’re instantly touching the side of your face where it’s especially sore, pulling back your fingers to see a little blood. You glare, then look to her hand and notice how she’d rotated her ring inwards — so that when she slapped you, the gem on it would cut you.

You scoff and set your sights back at her. Everything ounce of willpower leaves you then — you feel it. The weightlessness in your shoulders like nothing could hold you back now. Like a strange sense of freedom — oddly euphoric really.

“Fucking bitch.” You mutter and just as you’re pulling your hand back to return it, another coworker seizes your wrist — then your shoulder, pulling you away. You put up a little struggle obviously — but that was it.

You didn’t get fired, but you sure as shit wouldn’t be coming back.

It was strange. Through your exhaustion, you’d found a sense of freedom. A taste for speaking your mind — an ounce of self respect that comes with it. It felt good. They sent you home early after the heat settled. Told you to go and take care of the slice on your upper cheek — it wasn’t deep, but it bled. Not that you cared, the little sting hovered as a reminder of your defiance. A new found confidence.

You’re storming out the front door upon your leave and into the street. It’s quiet. Somewhere around 2am probably. There’s a gentle buzz of the streetlights overhead — distant traffic, the smell in the air of a lingering threat to rain. And even after that horror show — you smile to yourself. You don’t feel tired anymore, more alert, not just of your surroundings but your own mind.

It felt good to speak back.

You decided to walk home. Smiling all the way. No care in the world.

You’re approaching your apartment complex after a 15 minutes walk when you spot them.

You’re roommate Nam-Gyu and his best friend, Thanos. Outside the complex and leaned up against the wall — smoking, talking expressively with their hands. You get on great with Namgyu. Thanos didn’t give you much choice but to get on with him too — he’s the impossible type, able to befriend pretty much anyone. But you always kept to yourself despite it.

It’s just a lingering respect between you all.

Sometimes they’d invited you to smoke up with them. But you’d either been too shy or too reluctant. So it really was just a mutual understanding that you’re all fiendly enough but not enough to push it.

Evidently so when you grow closer to the door, where they are — their eyes catch you and you simply spare them a smile but you don’t stop to talk. But Namgyu doesn’t give you much choice as he pushes himself off the wall, a cigarette pinched between finger a thumb.

“Hey.” He says, tone not exactly casual — more like he’s intent on grabbing your attention. You stop mid way up the small steps and turn to them. They look a little concerned — you didn’t understand why, having completely forgotten about the gash on your cheek.

You’re looking at them with expect — brows raised a little. Thanos perks up, “You have a fall, señorita?”

You furrow your brow a little at him, an unsure smile on your lips. “What?”

Thanos moves his fingers, poking his own cheek to mirror where your gash is. That’s when you remember it — having grown too numb to it on the duration home. Your mouth forms a o shape, followed by a ohhhh noise.

“It’s nothing, really.” You say, not wanting to go into detail. To not have to confess about how you’d lost your shit at work. That you’re exhausted. That you’re completely and utterly crushed inside. Thanos’ lips form a weird shape, like he’s settling on your words — but still concerned. But not overly, not like Namgyu, since he was more accustomed to you.

Namgyu’s the quiet type — the type that goes through all possibilities in his own mind before barfing out a ton of questions. He sees it — in your eyes. The tiredness. But also a spark of something else, the way you hold yourself like you’d had a ton of weight lifted off your shoulders. He’s an over thinker, really, obvious by the way his expression is stuck on a soft frown. A lingering concern.

But neither of them push it further. You smile small again and brief, “Okay, well cya.” you say, before continuing your the stairs to your apartment. You’d probably see Namgyu later on.

It’s only when you’re out of sight that the two look to each other. Thanos was leaving anyway — so they say their farewells. Namgyu rather quickly ushering him off because his curiosity is practically eating him alive at this point — eager to grill you, eager to know. He is in the club scene after all, you wonder that’s where he gets his gossiping tendencies from.

You’d been in your apartment for about 10 minutes before Nam-Gyu follows suit. You’re on the sofa, head in your phone when you’re reading the incoming texts off your boss. Reading: Your behaviour is unacceptable or we’ll be talking about this tomorrow. You clench your jaw, your prior adrenaline already fading off as you get hit with reality. How did you let yourself loose your cool? Now you had to deal with the boss.

You huff, dramatically so as you rest your head back on the sofa and turn it limply toward the door as you hear it click open. Namgyu standing in the hallway, hands in his pockets as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. You smile small at him in place of a quiet hello but his flat face unmoved as he walks right up to where you’re sat, standing over you so boldly that he casts a shadow.

“What happened?” Is all he mutters, pointing his chin at your cut. Your smile softens, almost disarmed by the fact he hadn’t dropped it yet.

The two of you are friendly, close enough to chat shit — briefly talk about one another’s day. Have a laugh, sure. You’d shared a cigarette once too. But other than that, the concept of sharing troubles was foreign between you. You suppose when you share an apartment with someone — those things eventually become unavoidable to talk about. You just didn’t think he cared that much to want to know.

You stare up at him and you can tell by the look in his face that’s he too keen - too curious. Enough to not drop it until he gets every bit of information off you. You are injured after all.

“Girl at work.” You mutter, still looking up at him as your expression melts into something like shame, defeat. He doesn’t reply though, stays staring — feeling the pressure of his gaze as you point your eyes down to the floor. He wanted more.

“I lost my shit tonight. Customer called me a cunt so I threw a drink on him.” You continue, eyes pinned downward until you hear an amused scoff come from his nose. You tense your jaw, as though recapping it out loud was just as embarrassing as it was in person.

“This girl I work with threatened me, so I called her out on being a whore.” You finish, more bold now as you hear how justified you think you are, shrugging one shoulder as you force yourself to look up at him.

“She fucking the boss?”

You hum in response.

He’s still the same — face stern, body unmoved — till he pulls a hand out his pocket and gestures toward the cut.

“And she did that?”

You hum, confirming his question so casually that you tried to play it off like it wasn’t a big deal. But in reality, now that your adrenaline has wore off - you realise how badly it stings. You don’t dare move however when he extends his hand down to your face, one of his fingers which poked out the hem of his sleeve coming to ever so slightly brush a piece of hair out the way of your cut — just so he could get a better look at it.

“That bitch got you good, still bleedin’.” He mutters, bending to your height ever so slightly as he narrows his eyes at the injury. Still, you don’t move — your eyes trained on him. You don’t even think you’d ever been this close to him before — even the fact of how he moved your hair so gently that it feels like the ghost of a touch.

He didn’t seem like the gentle type. He’d come home sometimes with a cut or two — or most popularly, bruised knuckles.

His eyes flicker to yours and second or two goes by in silence before he’s pulling back and upward to his normal stance.

“Two seconds.” He mutters before disappearing into the kitchen and you take that time to catch your breath — not realising how you’d been holding it from when he was an inch or two from you. You couldn’t deny your attraction to him — but it wasn’t something that ruled you, possessed you, you’re not that type of person to just settle in what you want and pursue the fuck out of it.

Your phone buzzes again but you’re ignoring it as Namgyu comes back over, a damp cloth in hand. Now you were especially surprised by him.

He stood in front of you again, you smile small and go to take the rag with a, “Thank you.” but he’s seizing his hand back a little before you can grab it.

“Let me.” He says and before you can even debate, he’s kneeling down to your height and moving your hair behind your ear. You can only stare — closely examining him. His chiselled jaw — the way it softly clenches, the way his hair neatly tucks behind his ears. For someone who seems so rough around the edges, he’s very well kept.

“Gonna sting.” He mutters ever so quietly, not bothering to even look at you — too closely trained on inspecting the gash as he presses the cloth against it. It draws a tiny hiss from you, but it’s nothing severe, equivalent to a paper cut at least — but enough to water your eyes a little. He doesn’t let up though — keeping the cloth pressed despite your obvious discomfort.

You assume he’s done this before. Caring for wounds — his own, probably. He doesn’t seem the type to let anyone else look after him. You gaze at him upon the thought, wondering about his past, his life — what lays beneath his hard shell. But you’re nowhere close to start asking, especially not in this moment, so instead you settle on a,

“Thank you.” You say, voice hushed and sincere. His eyes flicker to yours and then straight back to the cut. He doesn’t speak that much — the most you ever heard from him is when he’s high. But it’s all in the eyes — that dark gaze of his. Almost as though he doesn’t admit he has a soft spot for you — would never admit to it, yet his actions speak louder than words.

Your phone buzzes once. Then a second, then a third.

Following the last one rapidly enough that it catches both your attentions. You snap your eyes down — only to see more messages off your boss. Nothing important — just demeaning messages, scolding you, demanding you work overtime to make it up to him. You huff softly through your nose but of course, Namgyu notices. He notices everything.

“Something important?” He asks.

“My boss giving me shit.”

His eyes snap to yours, then down to your phone and then back to you. He leans back a little.

“Hold this.” He says, pointing his chin at the cloth so you do — replacing your hand with his as he picks up your phone to read the messages. You watch him as he does, noticing the little amused twitch on his mouth — the flex of his under eye, an expression of disbelief as if to say, get a load of this guy.

He brings his free hand up to chew on his thumb as he scrolls through the texts and he doesn’t bother asking for permission as he types a reply. You go to debate — but he’s too quick, his thumb hitting send the moment you reach out to seize your phone back.

“Hey—” You say, urgent enough that you drop the cloth which lands in your lap as you snatch your phone — looking down to see he replied with a:

‘Fuck yourself prick’

Your mouth falls open, but no noise comes out — a dread swirling in your stomach as your eyes dart back up to Namgyu. He’s chewing on his thumb again, blocking the wide grin which lingers behind his hand — a mischievous glint in his eye as he beams at you.

You glare at him for a hot minute — but you don’t feel angry. You don’t feel anxious. In fact, you can’t help the little grin that slips onto your face. It’s then followed by a breathy laugh, a short lived one as you cut yourself off and look back down to the phone. You hover your thumbs over the keypad — darting your eyes back up to him as he nods at you to go ahead.

You smile, sly before breaking into a type. He’s getting up and sitting next to you the very second you do — an eagerness and boyish excitement overcoming him, wanting to see what you add. He pokes his head right next to yours — chin settling on your shoulder as he stifles an excited noise.

Your chewing on your lip as you type:

‘eat shit motherfucker, your club is ass’ and before you can send it, Namgyu points at the screen, mumbling for you to add something on the end. You add it on as you both share a laugh. The final result being:

‘eat shit motherfucker, your club is ass. club pentagon 4eva’

You’re both snickering like school kids when you press send and the moment you do your launching your phone to the other end of the couch — a riveting excitement overcoming you which mirrored anxiety — like sending a risky text and being too afraid to hear the buzz of a reply. You’re both snickering — the feeling equivalent to playing a prank when you’re younger — that mischief unmatched, an overwhelming feeling really.

You fall into the couch, your bank sinking into the cushions as you cover your face, hiding your grin — a low noise coming out of you.

“Ohhhh, you’re a bad influence.” You groan between a laugh. Namgyu follows suit, also leaning back into the sofa and shoving his hands into his pockets as his grin settles a little.

“You kiddin’? I just saved you from a life of misery.”

You hum in response, dragging your hands down your face before dropping them into your lap. You think this is the most you’ve felt in awhile — like actually felt. You’d spent so much time being a zombie, slaving away, following a strict routine that you hadn’t given yourself a chance to actually loosen up. To actually laugh. It feels like a breath of fresh air.

You sigh softly before turning your head to him, but he’s already looking at you — face settled now, but something lingering and twitching beneath it. Like he’s on the edge of a smile. You hold up the cloth briefly.

“Thank you — again, and for the laugh.” You say. He simply gives you a brief smile as his eyes flicker to the cut.

“Looks better — any deeper and you’d have had a badass scar.” He says, shifting into a small grin. You make an amused hum trapped behind your tight lipped smile as you look away again, eyes settling on the ceiling as you tip your head back into the couch.

He copies you — a silence settling between you both. But it’s not an uncomfortable one. In fact it’s probably the first time you’ve properly settled around him, finally feeling a little more at home here. You’d find another job — you always do. Your track record of jobs would suffice. Maybe just not include your now old job as a reference, just to be safe. Tonight will stay between you, your old colleagues and Namgyu.

“Wanna get fucked up?”

You tilt your head toward him, rolling your neck against the couch. “What?”

“Wanna get high?” He rephrases, the glint in his eye obvious in the hope that you’d agree. You curl your lips downward and think, fuck it. It’s not like you had anywhere to be tomorrow now. Besides, despite it being early hours of the morning — you’re having too much fun. Why cut it short?

You simply nod and that sends his lips into a wide grin as he lifts his hips off the sofa to dig a hand into his back pocket — fishing out a tiny bag of pills. Your brows simply furrow a little in curiosity as you sit up slightly, leaning a little closer to get a better look — planting your elbow on his knee as you settle your chin on your palm.

“What is it?” You mumble, your head bouncing with each word from the way your chin rests sternly onto your hand.

“Nothing crazy, something zen, y’know?” He replies, focused as he drips his fingers in to take one out for you. He hands one to you first then takes one for himself — wasting no time in popping it into his mouth. You watch him do it and he catches onto the fact that you’re unsure on how to take it. He’s mid crunch when he looks at you — a teasing expression on his face, amused by your interest.

“You just crunch it.” He says slowly, holding back a smirk. Your mouth forms an o shape in realisation before your popping it in too — the crunch loud enough that he hears it, his smirk widening.

“There you go.” He says between a chew and a grin.

It’s bitter and unpleasant, especially with how it fizzes onto your tongue. Apparent by how you lean back as your face contours — disgusted. He lets out a wicked laugh — unable to hold back upon seeing your expression. You simply swat his chest.

“You could’ve forewarned me —” You manage to say, words slurred from how you’re still trying to swallow it down. He pouts, leaning in slightly to pinch your cheek. “Oh, c’mon, you’re in the big leagues now. You can take it.”

You yank your face out of his pinch and scrunch your eyes tightly shut, trying to stabilise yourself and let your mouth accustom to the taste — but it’s genuinely vile. You just let it sit there, slowly dissolving. You open your eyes at him, pleading — he’s still leaned over, a small grin on his face, just eager anticipation. He raises his brows once, eyes half lidded.

“Go on, swallow it.” He encourages lowly, running the pads of his fingers across his jaw sheepishly. You try — you really do, but you’re suddenly holding back the intrusive idea of spitting it right back out and he can tell. So he huffs — leans closer and pinches your nose closed tightly, giving you no other option.

You widen your eyes and make quick time in swallowing it back before pushing his hand away.

“You fuck—” You manage to get out, throat strained from the vile taste running down thickly. He folds his lips inward, trying to hide his teasing smile as you struggle, shrugging a shoulder as if to act all innocent. You’re quick to recover as you smack your lips, your tongue darting out to wet them before you’re shooting him a glare — but your mouth twitches into a small smile, clearly amused in the end. It’s that stupid fucking look on his face — boyish, amused, proud.

You can’t not smile.

“Knew you could take it.” He mutters, his voice even lower now as he eyes you — and you’re watching him so intently that you note how his eyes ever so discreetly trail down to your lips, before looking up to ceiling before settling back on you.

“Shut up.” You threaten, despite your amused tone.

“You’ll be thanking me in 5 minutes.” He continues and you simply scoff and resume to falling back into the sofa.

It was less than 5 minutes.

Maybe 3 at a push.

The sensation started feather light, across your skin — gentle goosebumps prickling the back of your neck. Then the limpness in your joints. A nice kind. Not realising how further you’d sunken into the sofa — a soft hum coming from deep in your throat in satisfaction. He was right, it was something zen. Non of that crazy psychosis shit.

“What’re you doing all the way over there?” Namgyu mutters, his voice a little slower now. Your turn your head lazily to him, eyes heavy as you smile. You hadn’t realised you’d been huddled up - hugging the other end of the couch, away from him.

You bat your heavy lids softly, not bothering to reply as you watch as he beckons you over — a gentleness on his features but not lacking the sharpness of his jaw or the awareness in his eyes, like an intent lingered there — even as you slowly budge down to him is he moving, pressing his back against the arm of his chair so you can lean your back against his chest.

You twist your body, settling your back against his hot chest and go slack there, the proximity comforting, settling. You hear him hum in please as you sink against him, without shyness as one of his arms loops around your waist — hand settling flat on your stomach. The other hand moving to your hair, twisting your strands between finger and thumb gently.

“There you go.” He coaxes, making it obvious to you he’s pleased, his voice low and thick like honey. You don’t feel remotely anywhere near discomfort — despite having never been this close to him ever, it didn’t feel abnormal. Didn’t feel intrusive — feeling the way his chest heaves each shallow breath against your back, the way his cold palm settles flat on your stomach. It’s delightful, if anything. You roll your eyes closed — the drug making you feel like you’re in heaven.

“Better?” He mutters from behind you.

“Much.” You hum, tone bordering on the incline of a moan — not quite, but it imply’s your blissful state. His fingers move slightly — falling into a soft circular trace on your stomach, so softly that you wouldn’t have felt it if you didn’t know his hand was there. But you feel it all — sensations inclined to the max, every hitch of your breath, the way blood runs to your cheeks so unbearably warm. A soft sigh leaves your parting lips, rolling your head back further into him so it sits comfortably on his shoulder.

He notes it. How you relax so easily, succumbing to his touch — his warmth. And the fact that you actually seemed to want to be around him. It strikes him strongly, really. He’s the type who yearns for recognition without having to plead for it — to be wanted, recognised. You’d managed to make him feel all those things without having even to try. He contemplates it — his expression seeping into something softer, more intimate.

He peaks his eyes down at you, craning his neck a little so he can steal a glance at your face — softened, blissed out. A sense of gentle euphoria. He moves his other hand from your hair, to test the waters as he’s slipping his fingertips to slope down the sharp of your jaw — way too delicately for a man of his reputation.

“You needed this, didn’t you?” He asks in a hushed tone, a little grin sitting on his face — teeth poking through the little gap there. Almost smug. You’re enjoying his touch way too much that you don’t reply — only softly humming in response, moving your head to match the movement of his fingers against your jaw and cheek, cat-like, needy for more.

He scoffs a little, “Yeah, you did. Look at you. Practically fuckin’ purring.”

You barely receive his remarks, too blissed — too in thought despite your body’s vacant noise, only responding physically. You lean against him — only realising how much more relaxed you felt prior to a few hours ago in work. You’d never felt an anger or recklessness like that before. You wonder what would’ve happened if your coworker hadn’t pulled you away — sent you home. You open your eyes, staring ahead sharply though still relaxed by him.

He notices, peaking over your shoulder to catch a glimpse of your expression — darting to look at the gash in your cheek, then back to your face. He nudges into your back with his shoulder once to bring you back to the room.

“Call me next time.”

“What?” You mutter, still half in thought as you peak your head over your shoulder to catch his eyes.

“If you get any shit again, I’ll come. Y’know? Do the dirty work.” He replies, voice low — but certain in himself. His eyes darting between yours gently, yet wide and frantically blown from the drug. He’s sees himself in you, the tolerance, the unbearable weight of getting walked over and looked down on. Only difference being that you took action on it tonight — he admired it really. Sometimes he imagines beating Thanos into calling him by his right name. But doing that means loosing a friend — meaning being alone. Or at least he thinks so.

You took that risk — you paid the price. He only wishes he was capable of doing the same.

“Starting with that boss of yours, mhm?” He continues, his thumb and index moving to graze your chin — sitting there, slightly holding to keep your head turned toward him. You gaze up at him. You’d truly thought you’d lost everything tonight, despite gaining some self respect. Even though the staff at work are horrible, you tried to consider them friends. You’d felt they’re the only people you had really. Outside of work — nothing. So taking that action tonight risked it all for you.

Now realising however, that you’re not alone.

You blink at him, awed — entranced. Mouth slightly agape, not used to having someone actually on your side. Someone wanting to be there — to support. The concept had been alien to you, especially since moving to Seoul. You felt like you’d had nobody, until now at least.

“You don’t have to do that. I can handle it.” You mutter, slightly bordering a whisper. An uncertainty laces your tone, doubt being your biggest sin. You could barely grasp the concept of him wanting to help you out. You’d managed it for so long on your own.

“You shouldn’t have to. Gettin’ that pretty face cut up. I’ll deal with that side of things, got it?”

He’s convincing, you’ll give him that. And you can’t find anything else to say or to disagree with. You can only perceive how overwhelmingly surprised you are with him. He cleaned your cut — made you laugh, helped you relax and now he’s offering more. He’d managed to put you at ease and mellow you out quicker than you’d managed to do since you’d gotten here. Months ago.

“Got it.” You manage, voice timidly soft in awe. There’s a softness in the air, a strange one. It shouldn’t feel like something vaguely romantic — because he’s just not that type of guy but it’s inescapable. The way you both gaze at each other, the way his smile droops a little like he’s also feeling it too. Not that you’d either say it out loud, or him, it’s easily something you’d both rather not acknowledge out loud.

Maybe out of fear.

Or just ruining this moment.

Instead you settle on returning to resting your head against his shoulder — his hand moving to flatten atop your head and hold you there.

Maybe one day.

Authors note: guys this isn’t my proudest — been struggling w writers block so I truly fought my way through this one. if u enjoyed tho lmk if u want a part two and PLEASE send some requests if u wish !!!!! i need the inspiration!!!!!!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️

[dovediva]

whenever ppl use "Choi said" for Choi subong or something I wonder if they do it for fun or theyre locals who actually don't know choi is the surname

.

[dovediva]

In their childhood,baby Gihun would probably help baby Sang Woo take care of scrapes and bruises from playing. Adult Gihun tried his hardest to take care of Sang Woo's wounds but he couldn't.

[dovediva]

mercy

namgyu x f!reader

this is the second chapter to my 'VISIONS OF VICTORY' series

synopsis: you go into relapse as you search for answers about namgyu's disappearance. meanwhile namgyu sheds his humanity to ensure that he will come home to you.

warnings: relapse! mentions of drugs. mentions of death. blood. smoking. 18+ mature content

on your couch, the faded gray fabric frays at the edges where namgyu used to pick at it absentmindedly. you sit beside it, wondering where things went wrong.

unfortunately, morning light filters through the half-drawn blinds which reminds you of another day of namgyu being missing.

your phone rests in your tired lap, the screen glowing with namshin’s contact information.

your thumb hovers over the call button.

just one call.

namshin isn't so bad to talk to.

it’s been three days since namgyu disappeared, three days since he kissed your forehead, mumbled about meeting jace for weed, and walked out the door with that lopsided grin you can’t stop picturing.

three days of unanswered texts, calls straight to voicemail, and a fear that he’s either in trouble or gone for good. you want to call namshin, namgyu’s older brother, the one he barely acknowledges, because he’s your last hope for answers.

however the thought of namshin’s cold, clipped voice.... or worse, him dismissing you outright... makes your stomach twist.

what if he doesn’t care?

what if he tells you to stop chasing ghosts and leave namgyu alone?

the idea of rejection stings, and you’re already hurt from worry.

your wrists itch, a restless, crawling sensation that spreads to your back, like your skin is too tight for your body.

it’s not just nerves since the stress in your body is now feeling a craving. it is that old, familiar pull you’ve fought for three months. three months clean, a milestone you got your way to after years of spiraling with namgyu, getting high to drown out the world.

you’ve been strong. now, with namgyu gone and no clue where he is, the urge to numb the pain is overwhelming. you want something and anything to make the fear stop, to quiet the questions looping in your head.

is he in jail again?

is he overdosed in some alley?

or did he just… leave you?

your fingers tremble as you grip the phone tighter, the screen blurring as tears prick your eyes.

you can’t do it.

you can’t call namshin, not yet.

your thumb slips off his contact, scrolling up through your phone until it lands on a name you haven’t touched in months.

hana shim.

your old dealer, with her dark hair and intense eyes that always seemed to see right through you. hana, who used to call you one of her favorite customers, who’d slip you an extra pill with a wink when you were short on cash.

you haven’t spoken to her since you got clean, three months ago, when you swore you were done with that life.

now with the weight of namgyu’s absence crushing you, the idea of her feels like a lifeline.

your thumb hesitates, then presses the call button before you can talk yourself out of it.

the phone rings twice.

"long time no hear, y/n." hana’s voice comes through with a snarky edge to her tone that makes you picture her smirking on the other end.

you laugh which is a weak and shaky sound, rolling your eyes even though she can’t see you.

“yeah, well, life’s been… something,” you mutter, leaning back against the couch, your free hand tugging at a loose thread on namgyu’s hoodie.

“you still in icheon, or are you back in the states?”

hana’s from california, born and raised, but her parents are from korea and forced hana to live here and away from them after some trouble years ago.

she splits her time between seoul and the US, visiting them in los angeles or living here in icheon.

there were times you couldn’t score on drugs because she was across the pacific. you’d curse her for it, pacing your apartment with an itching for a fix.

“nah, i’m in ssangmun-dong,” hana says, and you can hear the grin in her voice, like she’s already counting the cash you’re about to hand over, “close enough for you to come running, huh?”

your heart sinks a little, knowing she’s right.

she’s always been good at reading you and every one of her clients, knowing when you’re desperate.

“good,” you say, your voice quieter now, almost ashamed.

“i need something.”

the words feel like a betrayal, like you’re undoing every hard-fought day of sobriety, but you can’t stop yourself. the itch is unbearable, and namgyu’s absence is a wound that won’t stop bleeding.

“oh nooo,” hana drawls, her tone mocking but not unkind, “you were doing so good, babe. three months clean, no medical assist? that’s some warrior shit. what happened?”

she sounds curious, maybe even a little concerned, but you know better than to think hana’s your friend.

she’s a businesswoman, and you’re a customer.... one she likes, sure, but still a customer.

you swallow, your throat tight.

“namgyu disappeared,” you say, the words spilling out before you can stop them.

“he’s been gone three days, and i can’t find him anywhere. i’ve checked with jace, called jails, walked every fucking street in hongdae. nothing.” you stand up, pacing the small living room, your shoes half-on as you shove your feet into them, "i’m losing my mind, hana.”

“ahhh, i see,” she says, her voice softening just a fraction, “you need to take your mind off it.”

it’s not a question, and you can almost see her leaning back, twirling a strand of her dark hair, her eyes glowing with that predatory gaze of her own.

“exactly,” you say, grabbing your keys from the counter, the metal cold against your palm.

you’re already moving, already planning, the need for relief overriding the guilt coming through you.

“where can we meet?”

“the alley behind that diner you work at,” hana says, “i’ll be there around six. sound good?”

you nod, even though she can’t see you.

“yeah, that works. i might use the time to talk to hye-ji, too. haven’t been to work in five days, and she’s probably freaking out.” you’re rambling now, your voice shaky as you try to fill the silence, to keep yourself from thinking too hard about what you’re doing.

“yeah, yeah, handle your business,” hana says, a hint of amusement in her tone, “i’ll see you at six.”

the line goes dead, and you’re left staring at your phone, the call log confirming what you just did.

you feel a pang of shame, but it’s drowned out by the relief of knowing you’ll see hana soon, that she’ll have something to make this ache go away, even if just for a little while.

you lock the apartment door behind you, the click echoing in the quiet hallway. it’s just past 3 pm, giving you a couple of hours before meeting hana. your original plan was to head straight to the diner, maybe smooth things over with hye-ji and your manager, who’s been texting you increasingly frantic messages about your absence.

as you step into the elevator, your thoughts drift back to namshin.

gangnam’s not far, maybe a 30-minute subway ride.

you could go to his place, knock on his door, see if namgyu’s there, or if namshin knows anything. the idea of facing him in person, instead of calling, feels less daunting somehow... like you can read his face, see if he’s hiding something.

namgyu’s always been adamant about keeping namshin out of his life.

however, you’re desperate.

desperation makes you bold.

the subway is crowded, the air smells of coffee and sweat. you find a seat near the back, namgyu’s hoodie pulled tight around you, the sleeves too long and covering your hands. you stare out the window as the train rattles through the tunnels, the city blurring past in flashes of light and shadow.

gangnam’s a different world from hongdae with sleek skyscrapers, designer storefronts, people in tailored suits who look like they’ve never stepped foot in a club like pentagon.

namshin fits right in there, with his crisp shirts and corporate job, the opposite of namgyu’s energy.

you remember the one time you met him. that was when namgyu needed cash to cover rent.

namshin handed over the money without a word, but his eyes were cold, judging, like he was tallying up every mistake namgyu ever made.

you wonder if he’ll look at you the same way.

you get off at gangnam station, the platform loud with people rushing to offices or lunch meetings. the streets above are pristine, the sidewalks lined with cafes and boutiques, the air carrying the faint scent of expensive perfume.

namshin’s address is burned into your memory from that one time namgyu let it slip, grumbling about his brother’s “fancy-ass condo.”

you navigate the streets, your sneakers scuffing against the clean pavement, feeling out of place among the polished crowd. your wrists are still itching, your back prickling, and you shove your hands deeper into the hoodie’s pockets to stop yourself from scratching.

namshin’s building is a glass tower, all sharp angles and reflective surfaces, the kind of place that screams money. the lobby is guarded by a doorman who eyes you warily as you approach, your hoodie and messy hair a stark contrast to the building’s sleek aesthetic.

“i’m here to see kim namshin, im the partner of his younger brother, kim namgyu.” you say, your voice steadier than you feel.

the doorman hesitates, before buzzing up to the apartment.

your heart pounds as you wait, half-expecting namshin to tell you to get lost.

after a moment, the doorman nods and lets you through, pointing you to the elevators.

the ride to namshin's floor, the 14th floor, feels endless.

you try to rehearse what you’ll say.

have you seen namgyu?

do you know where he is?

the words feel inadequate, too small for the weight of your worry. when the doors open, you step into a pristine hallway, the carpet muffling your footsteps.

apartment 1403, namshin's, is at the end, and you knock before you can lose your nerve.

namshin opens the door after a few seconds, and the sight of him catches you off guard. he’s taller than you remember, his dark hair neatly combed, his button-up shirt pressed to perfection.

he has the same eyes as namgyu's. they're older though. for a moment, you feel like you’re being sized up.

“y/n,” he says, his voice flat, not unkind but not welcoming either, “what’s this about?”

you swallow, your throat dry.

“it’s namgyu,” you say, the words tumbling out.

“he’s been gone for three days. he said he was meeting a friend, but he never came back. i’ve checked everywhere like the jails, clubs, streets. nothing. i thought… maybe you’ve heard from him? he usually tells me where he's going and what time he'll be back.” your voice cracks on the last word, and you hate how vulnerable you sound.

namshin’s expression doesn’t change, but something flickers in his eyes.

concern, maybe, or annoyance.

“he hasn’t called me,” he says and crosses his arms, “you know how he is. he doesn’t exactly keep me in the loop.”

there’s a bitterness in his tone, but you don’t have the energy to unpack it. you’re too focused on the fact that he’s not surprised, like namgyu’s disappearance is just another tuesday.

“he’s never been gone this long without telling me,” you press, stepping closer, “like I said, he always says where he’s going... even when he’s being an idiot. something’s wrong, namshin. i can feel it.”

your hands are shaking now, and you clench them into fists to steady yourself.

“if you know anything, anything at all, please.”

namshin sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“look, y/n, i don’t know where he is. if he’s in trouble, it’s probably because he got mixed up with the wrong people. again.” he pauses, his gaze softening slightly, “but if he contacts me, i’ll let you know. okay?”

it’s not enough, but it’s all you’re going to get.

you nod, muttering a thanks, and turn to leave, the weight of disappointment settling heavier on your shoulders.

as you ride the elevator back down, you check your phone which says 4:30 pm.

you still have time before meeting hana, so you decide to head to the diner.

maybe talking to hye-ji, your bestfriend at your job, will keep you grounded.

your subway ride to the diner is quieter, the afternoon crowd thinning out. you sit by the window, watching the city blur past, your mind replaying namshin’s words. 

he got mixed up with the wrong people. 

you think of thanos, that shady rapper who’s been hanging around namgyu more lately, always talking about quick cash and big opportunities. you should’ve paid more attention, should’ve asked questions.

the guilt soaks through you, mixing with the itch under your skin.

the diner is busy when you arrive. the building is loud with the clatter of plates, the sizzle of the grill, and the hum of conversation from the late-afternoon crowd.

waitresses weave through tables, balancing trays of steaming coffee and greasy burgers, while the fluorescent lights cast a harsh glow over the checkered floor.

you push through the glass door, the familiar jingle of the bell barely registering over the noise. as one of the waitresses here, you are usually used to that noise.

your heart’s still racing from the subway ride, from the dead-end visit to namshin’s condo.

it has been three days without a word from namgyu.

you try to forget about that for a second, hoping to smooth things over with hye-ji for not being at work for the last week.

hye-ji spots you the moment you step inside, her round face flushed from the chaos of the rush. the woman's black apron is stained with ketchup, her hair escaping its messy bun, and her eyes narrow when they land on you.

“y/n! where the hell have you been?” she snaps, her voice cutting through the din as she strides toward you, wiping her hands on a rag.

the outburst catches you off guard, which causes you to flinch.

hye-ji’s always been tough, but this feels more personal, like you’ve done something worse than miss a few shifts.

“i’m sorry,” you stammer, pulling namgyu’s hoodie tighter around you, the sleeves swallowing your hands.

“hye-ji im sorry I have not been to work but things have been--- it’s been… bad. namgyu’s gone. three days, no call, no text. i’ve been looking for him everywhere.” your voice cracks, and you hate how small you sound, how the words spill out like a confession.

you expect hye-ji to soften, to give you that big-sister look she sometimes does.

instead, her frown deepens, her eyes clouding with something you can’t quite read...grief, maybe, or exhaustion.

she grabs your arm, gentler than her tone suggests, and pulls you toward the back, past the kitchen where the cooks are shouting orders and the air smells of burnt onions.

the break room is cramped, cluttered with boxes of napkins and a wobbly table, but it’s quieter, the noise of the diner muffled by the walls.

hye-ji leans against the table, crossing her arms, her expression a mix of worry and frustration.

“you’re not the only one dealing with this shit, y/n,” she says, her voice quieter now but no less intense, “my brother daeho has been missing for days too. i’ve been working doubles just to keep my head straight.”

you blink, stunned. daeho, hye-ji’s younger brother, the one who’s always been a little too charming for his own good, always in and out of trouble but never out of touch.

you had no idea.

“daeho’s gone?” you ask, “since when?”

“same night as namgyu since its been three days too,” she says, her jaw tightening, “three days ago. he didn’t call, didn’t text. jae’s been asking about ‘uncle daeho’ nonstop, and i don’t know what to tell him.” hye-ji's oice wavers, and you realize she’s as scared as you are, maybe more.

hye-ji’s a single mom, her son jae only five, and daeho’s the only family she’s got left since their three other older sisters stopped talking to them.

you and hye-ji have been on-and-off best friends for years, bonded by late-night shifts. unfortunately, your history with drugs has always been a wedge between you.

hye-ji is thirteen years older than you, and she’s seen you at your worst while you were being strung out, shaky, and making promises you couldn’t keep. she’s never held back her judgment. those arguments between you both have left scars, but you’ve always found your way back to each other.

now standing here, you see the same fear in her eyes that’s been keeping you up at night.

“i’ve been looking for namgyu everywhere,” you say, leaning against the wall, your hands stuffed deep in the hoodie’s pockets to hide their trembling, “jails, clubs, streets. i even went to gangnam to see his brother, namshin but there's nothing. it’s like he vanished.” you pause.

the itch in your wrists are flaring.

you don’t mention hana and you don’t mention the call you made.

hye-ji would lose it if she knew.

she nods, her eyes distant, like she’s piecing something together.

“daeho’s the same. he’s always been a mess, but he never goes this long without checking in with his nephew.” she runs a hand through her hair, tugging at the strands, “i keep thinking… maybe he got in over his head this time. he lies about being in the military so I am not sure what his ass got into this time.”

it’s clear neither of you has answers.

you glance at your phone.

5:50 pm.

“hye-ji i gotta go,” you say, pushing off the wall, “i’ll come back to work soon. next monday I'm scheduled to work so ill be here. i promise.”

hye-ji eyes you, like she knows you’re holding something back, but she doesn’t press.

“just… be careful, okay?” she says, her voice softer now.

you nod, avoiding her gaze, and slip out of the break room, the diner’s noise swallowing you up as you head for the back door.

the alley behind the diner is narrow and shadowed by the building’s bulk. a single streetlight flickers, casting a sickly yellow glow over the pavement littered with cigarette butts and crumpled wrappers.

you lean against the brick wall, your heart pounding, the itch under your skin screaming now.

you’re early, but hana’s already there, her black book bag slung over one shoulder, her dark hair pulled back in a messy ponytail.

hana's intense eyes lock onto you and she smirks.

to you, it is that familiar glint that says she’s already won.

“you look like shit,” she says, her accent sharp as she steps closer, unzipping her bag, “and here I was thinking that you were done with me.”

“i was,” you mutter, shoving your hands deeper into the hoodie, “but namgyu’s gone, and i can’t deal with it.”

you don’t need to explain more. hana’s seen you like this before, desperate.

she pulls out a small plastic bag, holding it up so the light catches the contents.

“no weed,” she says, almost apologetically, “last client cleaned me out. but i got coke and lsd. your pick.”

your stomach twists at the mention of coke.

you’ve done it before with namgyu, you remember those nights when you both wanted to feel invincible. however, it always made your thoughts race and caused you to spiral into paranoia.

right now, your head’s already a mess.

lsd’s slower, softer, a way to blur the world without heightening your fear.

“lsd,” you say, your voice barely audible, like saying it out loud makes it too serious.

hana nods, handing you a small square of paper, the tab tucked inside. you slip her the cash, your hands brushing briefly, and you shove the tab into your pocket.

you’re about to say something...maybe ask if she’s seen namgyu, (even though you know she hasn’t since he is not her client).... when the back door of the diner swings open with a creak.

hye-ji steps out, a cigarette already between her lips, her lighter sparking as she lights it.

the woman's eyes land on you and hana, and her expression hardens.

“see, i fucking knew it,” she says, rolling her eyes as she exhales a cloud of smoke, “what is this, y/n?”

hana scoffs, “well, hello to you too, the fuck?” she says, crossing her arms, her book bag dangling from her elbow.

you freeze, your hand instinctively covering the pocket where the lsd is hidden.

“i was just asking hana if she’s seen namgyu,” you lie, the words coming out too fast and too defensive.

hana plays along, patting your shoulder with a casual grin.

“yep, just catching up. gotta run, though. see ya, y/n.” she gives you a look which is part warning and part amusement as she slips down the alley, her sneakers scuffing against the pavement as she disappears around the corner.

hye-ji doesn’t buy it.

she takes a drag of her cigarette, her eyes narrowing as she leans against the doorframe.

“you’re full of shit,” she says, but there’s no heat in it, just exhaustion. she doesn’t push, though, and you’re grateful.

you can tell she’s carrying her own weight, her own grief.

“jae’s been asking about daeho,” she says after a moment, her voice quieter.

“every day it is ‘where’s uncle daeho?’ and i don’t know what to tell him. daeho’s never gone this long without calling him or any of his other nieces or nephews in the family.”

you nod, the guilt tighter in your chest.

“namgyu hasn’t contacted me either,” you say, leaning against the wall beside her, the brick cold against your back.

“it’s like he just… vanished.”

hye-ji takes another drag, the cherry of her cigarette glowing in the dim light. she’s quiet for a moment.

out of nowhere she asks you something.

“is namgyu still in debt?”

it’s a random question, and you frown, caught off guard.

“what?... yeah” you say, scratching at your wrist, the itch flaring again.

“he invested in some youtuber’s stupid crypto scam a while back and lost a ton of money. why?”

hye-ji exhales, staring at the ground.

“daeho was in deep, too. owed a lot to some bad people.” she doesn’t elaborate, but the implication hangs heavy between you. you think about the loan sharks who used to hound namgyu, their slick suits and fake smiles, the way they’d corner him outside clubs or show up at your apartment at 2 am.

“you seen any of loan sharks around?” hye-ji asks, her voice careful, like she’s testing the waters.

“no,” you say, shaking your head, “not since i paid my share. they don’t bother me anymore.”

you pause, your mind racing.

“you think… you think they went after daeho? and namgyu?”

hye-ji doesn’t answer, just takes another drag, her eyes distant.

you can tell she’s thinking it, though, the same fear that’s starting to creep into your mind. they both vanished the same night, both in debt, both mixed up in things they couldn’t control.

it’s too much of a coincidence, but you don’t want to believe it.

loan sharks don’t just make people disappear.... they rough them up, take what’s theirs, leave them bruised but breathing.

don’t they?

“i’m going home,” you say, pushing off the wall, your voice flat.

you need to get out of this alley, away from hye-ji’s questions and the tab burning a mental hole in your pocket.

she nods, flicking ash onto the pavement.

“call me later, okay? just so i know you didn’t overdose on whatever shit you just bought.” hye-ji's tone is sharp, but there’s a flicker of concern in her eyes.

it is the kind that reminds you why you’ve always come back to her, even after your worst fights.

you force a laugh, but it sounds hollow.

“yeah, sure.”

you turn and walk away, with tears nearly forming in your eyes.

you hate this.

you hate that you’re falling back into the same patterns, hate that namgyu’s absence is pushing you to the edge. most of all, you hate that you don’t know where he is, and that the only thing keeping you from breaking completely is the promise of a high you swore you’d never need again.

far from you namgyu spins wildly on a rotating platform, his arms linked with thanos’s as they dance in a twisted mockery of joy.

the third game, mingle, is on another level of death in comparison to the last two games.

namgyu jumps around with thanos, and the rest of his group watches in confusion.

the man's “O” patch flaps as he moves, and his eyes glassy. namgyu is batshit crazy since he’s high, and higher than he’s ever been since the pill thanos slipped him hours ago is coursing through his veins.

that one pill is stripping away everything human of namgyu and leaving only a violent fury.

when gyeongsu got sacrificed by thanos for the sake of the team... namgyu didn’t flinch, and didn’t care. the drugs have numbed him to everything....guilt, fear.

even you.

he does not think about your face, your voice, the way you’d curl up against him in your tiny apartment.

it is distant like a dream he can’t quite grasp.

all he knows now is the game, and the rush, and the need to win.

whatever thanos gave him in that locket has turned him into something else. the namgyu you know, the chill, quiet guy who’d hum off-key while sprawled on your couch, is gone.

after mingle is over, namgyu is satisfied knowing that he survived another game again.

he shoves past semi, and glares at minsu, whose trembling hands betray his fear.

“no mercy,” namgyu mutters to himself randomly.

as he thinks, he knows now that mercy is a luxury he can’t afford... not for strangers, not for wimps like semi and minsu, not for anyone here.

the drugs have always dulled his softer edges but this pill, whatever it is, has stripped his softness away entirely only leaving only a hunger for survival, a violence he didn’t know he had.

if you saw him now, hoping for more people to die and others to fall, you’d be terrified.

you’d see a stranger wearing namgyu’s face, not the man who promised himself to come back to you.

its scary knowing that the drugs are helping him push through.

to namgyu, it’s all for you.

somewhere beneath the haze, he’s clinging to that thought in his subconscious.

he’ll win this, bring home the money, and fix everything.

he doesn’t think about the bodies left behind, the votes he’s cast, the lives he’s traded for his own. he doesn’t think about gyeongsu’s pleading eyes or the way the guards shot him down.

he can’t.

the only person he’d spare, the only one he’d show mercy to, is you.

however, you’re not here.

you’re safe in seoul, waiting for him, oblivious to the monster he’s become to make it back to you.

next chapter will be linked here

[dovediva]

what if instead of nam gyu it was seal gyu and he went gyu

[dovediva]

Hello! can i request Yan Namgyu x reader in the game hide and seek? where basically he's hunting the reader who's on the blue team. Don't let her die if you can, maybe a semi-open ending?

Thank you so much,and btw I really loved ur writing in the other yan namgyu x reader that u made🙏

When dolls don't blink-Yandere Nam-gyu x reader

Warnings:yandere themes,blood,substance abuse,a bit of misogyny if you squint your eyes (but again,we are talking about Namgyu...)

___________

You didn’t cry when you found out what the blue marble that you got meant...you just stared at it in your palm, like it wasn’t real. Someone beside you whispered “fuck.” Another started sobbing. The rules were already blaring over the speakers.

"BLUE TEAM — KEYS. YOU MAY NOW ENTER THE ARENA. HIDE." You were through the door before the words even finished.

The key in your hand was cold, small, useless,in our opinion. It would open doors sure,but it wouldn’t stop what was coming.

Because the Red team got knives,and since once you opened a door you couldn’t lock it again,you already knew the great disadvantage that existed between the two teams.

As a blue,there were no safe spaces.

Only slightly less deadly ones.

The arena was massive. You ran. Found a small storage room inside a room. Opened the lock.

The door clicked open,and you hesitated.

This was it. Once open,anyone could follow.

You slipped inside,and waited,hoping for the best.

After all,all they had to do was kill one.

Just one blue, and they’d pass.

But you’d already heard rumors.

Some weren’t stopping at one,those who were there actually having the pleasure of killing.

-----------

Suddenly you heard a voice approaching the corridor where the room you were hiding was located, it sounded mocking and almost childish.

“Wakey waaaakey...no sleeping during hide and seek" You froze,his voice echoed through the hall.

“I brought a surprise~! Where are you all?”

You held your breath.

Then...a slam. And a door not far from you was kicked open.

“God you’re all so boring when you're dead…” you could hear him muttering sadly

Another sound.

Metal scraping.

Liquid dripping.

And then his voice again,closer now.

“I said wake up…”

You peeked through the gap in the broken window.

This man,who now you could recognize as Namgyu,was crouched over a corpse, gripping it by the hair and shaking it. Its arms flopped uselessly.

And now you were connecting;you’d seen him earlier,alone,chewing something and swaying slightly like music only he could hear...

“Come on, come on, just one more round, okay? Please?”

he giggled,then stab.

“Aww. You’re no fun.”

He leaned in close to the corpse’s face.

“Nothing left behind… just doll eyes...You see that? That’s the moment they go out. That’s when they’re perfect.” he said, speaking basically to himself...

Your stomach turned.

You stepped back too fast:your elbow hit a pipe.

Silence.

“…I heard that.”

You bolted.

The hallway was narrow and your legs were trembling. You passed another Blue, who opened a door and hissed at you—“come on!” but you shook your head.

You needed somewhere better,safer,more hidden.

You turned sharply down a side passage and froze,too late.

Namgyu was already there.

He stood casually in the middle of the corridor, twirling a blood stained knife. His red vest was torn at the shoulder, and his smile was wide,too wide.

“You ran from me,” he said. “That’s rude ya know..."

You tried to backpedal, but he stepped forward fast, cutting off the exit.

“No more hiding. I found you.”

“Please,” you gasped. “You already killed s-”

“I like killing.”

His eyes were glassy. Blood splattered his chin.

He wasn’t angry.

He was delighted.

He lunged. You screamed and stumbled back, but he slammed you into the wall.

Your head hit the concrete so hard you saw white for a second.

Before you could even think, he grabbed your face and slammed it again.

“Shhh” he whispered. “Let me see your face…”

His hand cupped your jaw while the other kept the knife dangerously close.

He tilted your head, examining you.

Till...he blinked. Something in his gaze twitched.

"Wait…”

Then,his pupils dilated like he just remembered something beautiful.

"Ohhh... your eyes... I’ve seen so many go out. Go dead. But yours—”

“Yours still flicker.”

He grinned slowly, the way someone does when they see something rare.

“They’re alive. But they’re scared alive. Not fake. Not screaming fake. Real.”

“I don’t get that often.”

You were still shaking. Eyes wide. Breathing too loud.

“We’ll stay together for a bit” he murmured. “Just you and me."

He pressed his forehead to yours, laughing quietly to himself.

“You wanna hear something funny?” he mutters laughing lightly

Then, without warning, he dragged the bloody blade through his own hair, like a comb. Crimson smeared across his scalp.

“Yeah,so there was this girl” he said, voice all sloppy and high. “She thought crying was gonna save her...”

He slapped his knee, shaking his head.

“So I just grabbed her by the hair and—bang, bang, bang...hit her head against the wall like it was nothing.”

He laughed again, breathless and wild.

“She was all begging and crying, but who cares, right? I wasn’t listening.”

He wiped some blood off his lip with a grin.

“Her screams? Sounded like a damn song to me”

Then he threw his head back, laughing like a kid who just broke a toy.

“Girls like that? They’re just fun to smash.”

He chuckled, unbothered.

Then his grin dropped. Flat. Cold.

He grabbed your wrists and slammed them above your head again, pinning you with force.

“Don’t blink."

You froze,he seemed to want to emulate something...

“That’s when it happens. That’s when they go out.”

“The doll eyes.”

He stared deeper into yours. Breathing heavy.

Almost reverent.

“I want yours to last longer than theirs.”

He let go of your arms, but didn’t move away.

His thumb brushed just under your eye.

“Doll eyes... but still flickering underneath.”

He smiled,crooked. Glazed over.

“It’d be beautiful to see how long that flicker lasts… if I don’t ruin it right away”

Then, softer,almost to himself:

“But that depends on you.”

A pause.

"You move wrong… you blink too fast…and I might have to crack your head open,just to see if it feels like a doll.”

He says with a smile,and he just stood there.

Watching you,

Waiting for something.

[dovediva]

Yall better make sg or namgyu a trend on tt again

WHAT'S HAPPENING TO SQUID GAME AND NAM-GYU FANS? WE'RE DISAPPEARING...

(I'm literally missing them a lot)

LET'S WRITE, LET'S WRITE

[dovediva]

Silly silly kim seowan and namgyu is this a crossover episode you guys!!!!!!!!!!1!1!1!1

[dovediva]

ok concept!!

nam-gyu's guilty pleasure is visiting your bunk after lights out - coming out of that literal high during a game to a bittersweet low. touches, talks, everything in between. but there is no way thanos or anyone else is finding out, because the next day you’re just ‘that bitch’ again.

(honestly this could be taken as a req or a yap!)

i loveee this concept anon. this was meant to be a little drabble but i can never just be normal and write something short so uhhh. pillow talk ensues lmao

18+, fingering, humping, dirty talk, jealous and lowkey possessive nam-gyu, love/hate, banter, crumbs of yearning. 0.9k

It was like clockwork.

Every night, after lights out. You lay curled under your sheets, your lids heavy with exhaustion and your limbs weary and aching with it. Your mind would turn over the horrific events of the day as you listened to the quiet, muffled sounds of your fellow players getting to sleep around you.

Before long, you would hear him sidle up to the side of your bunk, feel the bed dip and creak as he swung his legs up onto the mattress and settled himself in next to you, a little bit too comfortably. Usually he didn't bother with a greeting. Tonight, it was an offhand, "You asleep?"

During the day, he barely looked at you. Didn't speak to you unless it was to make some biting, smartass remark. Didn't mention you unless it was a muttered comment about "that bitch" to Thanos.

But after dark, it was different. Maybe it had something to do with being away from prying eyes. The idea that what didn't happen in the light of day didn't quite count. It was beyond you, but for whatever reason, you didn't tell him to get lost. Had started to welcome his nightly uninvited appearances.

You made a noncommittal sound in response, not bothering to open your eyes.

"That fucking asshole really tried it today. Did you see how he jumped Thanos like that? Skinny bastard like him, too." He began rattling off without preamble. He wasn't high tonight—you could tell just by the sound of his voice. He was less erratic, his tone flatter and more subdued.

"Who?" you muttered, only half following.

"That scammer prick. Fucking MG coin." He let out a quiet scoff under his breath.

"You mean the poor guy you ganged up on and beat to a pulp?" You'd seen the fight break out from where you'd been sitting with your teammates on the far side of the room. You'd merely shaken your head in disgust and turned away, feeling a bit of sympathy for the guy.

"He deserved it. What, you feel bad for him or something?" Nam-gyu asked a bit more sharply. When you peeled open your eyes and turned to face your right, where he lay next to you, you saw that he was already looking at you. You couldn't make out his expression in the dark.

You shrugged a shoulder. "Just didn't seem like much of a fair fight to me."

He just turned his eyes back to the bunk above you, gave a short exhale of breath that wasn't quite a real laugh. "Whatever. That's not the point," he muttered. Then, after a pause, "If you like him so much, why didn't you run over and comfort him earlier? Go suck his dick, while you're at it." His voice was low, laced with a hint of bitterness.

Now it was your turn to scoff. "Don't be an idiot."

Your eyes flicked back to his face. They lingered over the few scratches scattered across it, caught the faint shadow of a bruise along his jaw. Part of you itched to reach over and brush your fingertips over them. You didn't dare. "You're looking pretty rough, too, you know."

He glanced sidelong at you. "Yeah? You should see the other guy," he quipped with a small flash of his brows. He wore an utterly stupid grin on his face.

You rolled your eyes in response and promptly rolled back over on your side, facing away from him. Sleep was pulling at you, and you didn't have the energy to keep up with entertaining his usual bullshit tonight.

It was only a moment before his hand began to wander over your body under the covers, as it so often did. Dragged over your thigh, your hip, your chest, firm and hungry like it belonged to him. He pulled you back into him so that you could feel the warm press of his body against you, his breath at your neck.

It was nothing out of the ordinary, the way his hand travelled straight between your thighs. Neither was the way you were already wet for him when he pushed two thick fingers inside you, knuckle-deep inside your pussy.

He murmured low in your ear as he curled his fingers inside you, slow enough to have you grinding your hips needily against his palm, breaths stuttering against the pillow. "This cunt missed me, huh? Look how fucking wet she is. Mph, fuck..."

The heel of his palm ground against your clit, the squelching of your pussy audible as he worked your pleasure higher. Your eyes were squeezed shut, and soft moans fell from your parted lips.

“Who does this cunt belong to? Tell me,” he growled. You felt his half-hard erection pressing into your ass. He was rocking his hips forward subtly, breaths heavy against your neck. “Hm? Fucking tell me.”

You breathed his name on a moan, gave him what he wanted. He drank up each needy sound that slipped from your throat, pumping his fingers into you faster, harder.

“Gonna… haah… c-come,” you all but whimpered, and then you were stifling your moans into your pillow as your hips stuttered against Nam-gyu’s hand. He fucked you through your peak, groaning as you came around his fingers.

By the time your hips had gradually stopped their twitching and the last waves of pleasure left you feeling heavy and exhausted, you’d hear Nam-gyu roll back over and slip from your bed without another word.

Tomorrow you’d avoid each other’s eyes, act like nothing had ever happened. But then night would come, and you’d seek comfort in each other again.

[dovediva]

i want namgyu to facefuck me pls :>

Facefucking

- Nam-gyu x f!reader

smut

Warnings: Degradation. Rough! namgyu, dom!namgyu with mentions of sub!namgyu, bit of freeuse

A/N: He looks so delicious here🙏🏽

• Oral with Nam-gyu is always rough. Whether he gives or receives, he is aggressive with it.

• He‘ll force you down to your knees, grab a fistful of your hair and push his cock down your throat. He‘d curse as you gag around him, the muscles in your throat contracting and struggling to suck in all of his length.

• He barely lets you catch your breathing before his hips snap, fucking into your pretty mouth as you gag and choke around him.

• -„You’re makin‘ a mess..“

• He‘d whisper inbetween rough groans of pleasure, watch how spit ran down your chin messily. He’d push your face against his cock, see the way your eyes teared over.

• He loves how messy you can get; spit everywhere, lipstick smudged and mascara running down your face.

• It doesn‘t matter where he is; at the club, home, in a damn grocery store- he‘ll always find time to shove his cock down your throat. And you take it. Everytime. Because you loved the way he uses you for his own pleasure like that.

• He ruins you. And you can’t get enough.

• Sometimes he feels different. Sometimes he likes to let you do your thing, lean back and enjoy you suck his cock dry like the good girl you are.

• Sometimes he likes submitting completely. Whine under you, beg for your tongue, let you put him in his place. Sometimes, he likes to be the crying mess.

• He differs between degradation and praise.

- „You were made for this cock, yeah? Little bitch. Your‘re nothing but a cumdump f‘ me..“

- „I love this pretty face, baby. Let me ruin your mouth. God, you’re doing so good.“

• Once he’s done, he‘ll force you to swallow. Would hold your nose as you do. You always do.

• Then he‘d yank you to your feet. If you were home, he’d return the favor by eating you out or fucking you. If you were in a semi-public setting, he‘d roughly wipe your face clean. Like you were a child getting scolded by your mother for getting ice cream all over your face.

• When he’s feeling soft, he‘ll kiss you on the forehead softly and promise to love you properly once you‘re home. 💗💗

[dovediva]

sorry if this is too weird of an ask but namgyu being a cuck to reader and thanos 👅👅👅 like he loves whoring out his gf to his best friend

my friend there is no such thing as “too weird” on this blog. i looove cucking. i love voyeurism. i LOVE this.

there’s an image in my head of nam-gyu smoking a cigarette as he lightly grabs at the erection growing in his pants, his eyes firmly fixated on how thanos has you face-down-ass-up on the bed. his hands have a vice grip on your waist as he gives you deep and fast strokes, making your pussy leak and cream around his cock. your fingernails nearly rip through the bedsheets as you cry out whorishly, almost pornographically, drooling on the pillow and unable to form words.

thanos, in between shallow pants and grunts, is talking filth to you. “pussy’s sucking me in,” he mumbles, slapping a big hand down on your ass, making you yelp. “so fucking wet. you like this? you like being watched like a slut? oh, yeah, you fucking liked that. you love this shit,”

and nam-gyu is just watching, dick rock hard in his pants, enjoying the show in front of him and giving comments of his own. “go harder. she likes that,” he says, taking a drag on his cigarette. “yeah, just like that. juuust like that. fuck,”