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noramoons · 9 months

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renounced | x.dj

summary: your life as the eldest child in the royal family is simple: follow everything you’ve been told, without complaint. the game is easy—until you meet xiao dejun, who shows you that you may not have to play their game at all.

pairing: prince!xiaojun x gender neutral!royal reader

genre: angst with a happy ending (?)

wc: 4k

rating: T/15+

warnings: unspecified time period, historical inaccuracies, brief mention of religious analogies, implied suggestive content, language, not proofread (😧)

a/n: happy xiaojun day! :D (me, finishing a fic on time?? 🤯🤯) hope u enjoy this little one-shot. i’m sure there are MAJOR historical inaccuracies for the politics depictions in this - feel free to leave any feedback or concrit you might have!

This is the last time.

It's like a mantra. You repeat it to yourself, over and over, starting the sentence over with every other stairstep you reach.

This is the last time. It has to be.

Of course, you said that the last time, too.

Prince Dejun has been a fixture in your life for nearly as long as you can remember. And for a long time—you hated remembering.

His family's kingdom had brought yours to the brink of annihilation in war—a long, terrible, stupid war that your nation had been comically unprepared for. The Xiao family had industrialized their military years before your father's generals even began to think about the idea, studying and honing in their technological advances to the point that when they finally brought their army to your doorstep, your father had no choice but to kneel. Can it really be called war if the other side never even stands a chance?

You had hated Xiao Dejun, then. Hated the very idea of him and his entire family. Hated that they had been so generous as to allow your family to stay in their palace for a month while yours was being rebuilt, him and his brothers running through the halls with gleeful abandon while you and your younger siblings had to restrain yourselves at all times. You always had to be poised and patient, silent unless spoken to—the perfect guests for who you saw as little more than your captors.

It was several years later before your father's advisors began whispering again, hushed murmurs that gradually tumbled their way down to your eavesdropping ears—not of war this time, but of the future. Of building future alliances with the very nation that had nearly decimated your home.

And you, as the eldest child, were the perfect sacrificial lamb.

You had felt just as much, too, the night of your first outing with the prince. You would be supervised, of course, but you still found yourself unable to shake the feeling as the servants dressed you quietly, whispering to each other when they thought you couldn't hear. Like they were preparing a stuffed pig for a feast.

You'd dreaded every step down the main stairwell of your newly rebuilt home, clinging to the marble railing that you were sure was just as cold and unforgiving as the prince waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs (Completely unlike the way you are currently racing up a flight of stairs, heart growing lighter with each step).

You had been surprised, then, when Dejun had taken your gloved hand in his—it turned out he was warm flesh and blood, after all.

He'd engaged in perfectly polite, yet expected small talk all throughout the main entryway and into the gate outside. It wasn't until you reached that first step outside, the furthest you'd been away from home in months, that he had squeezed your hand and dropped his voice into an octave that sounded much more familiar to the Dejun you had seen briefly in his home.

"Do you trust me?"

You were taken aback by the question—but you certainly weren't a liar. "No."

He'd laughed at that—a light, airy sound escaping past his lips that you thought had no right to come from a devil. "I thought as much. I would've been surprised if you'd said so." Something glinted in his eyes. "Can you give me a chance to change your mind?"

What on Earth was he talking about? The two of you were only supposed to wander the gardens until dusk—that was what your governess had said. "Why would I do that?"

A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth—you thought, for an absentminded moment, how seemingly perfect his teeth were. What a strange thing to notice. "Because it'll get us away from the eyes of your governess."

Your own eyes widened. "What are you talking about? I—" I hadn't even noticed she was out here, you'd wanted to say. You had spun around, looking intently for somewhere she must have been hiding—she couldn't have been that inconspicuous if Dejun had noticed her already.

He'd squeezed your hand again, warm fingers still intertwined with yours. "I spoke with the stablehand before coming to call on you. He said he would leave a horse tied just outside the gates." He paused. "It's up to you, of course. Your Highness." He dropped your hand only to cross it across his chest in a mock serene bow, and you had bit onto your own tongue, hard, to keep a laugh from escaping you at the sight.

You had tried to weigh the consequences in your mind, but the thought of freedom was just as alluring as it always had been under the watchful eye of seemingly everyone else in the palace you'd grown up with. Even if it came with a price of momentary companionship with Xiao Dejun.

"We..." you had started. "We have to be back by sunset. No later."

He had grinned and taken your hand, running with you close behind, helping you mount the horse when you did, in fact, find one tied just outside the palace gates—and giving you the first taste, if only for an hour, of what real freedom might feel like.

You were chased down by your governess and a slightly bruised stablehand before the sun had even begun to set, but you and Dejun had talked, lying on your backs in an empty field miles away from the palace, for what felt like hours. It was then that you learned he cared practically nothing for politics, that he had no plans to be king the way his father had ruled. You discovered, through a series of conversations, that he wanted so much more for his life—to not be tied to something he hadn't chosen for himself. You'd never forget for the rest of your life how his eyes shone that evening, how they sparkled as he listened to you, and how he talked about the life he wanted with such excitement. He wanted to learn how to walk across a trapeze, or become a traveling musician, to sail across the world with a band of pirates—he wanted to at least have options. To be able to choose something for himself, something that was only his.

That glass facade you had built in your head of him shattered. He was so, so much like you, in every way you had never imagined.

Your governess gave you an earful when you were dragged back to the palace that night, but you could barely find it in yourself to care. Dejun had planted a dangerous seed in your brain—the idea of getting to choose.

While your father wasn't entirely pleased with the events of your first outing with Prince Dejun, his advisors still believed it would be a beneficial match for the future of the kingdom—so you were allowed to continue your courtship with the prince.

With every meeting, you found your affection for the worldview he had given you growing. You were allowed to let yourself want for the first time. You wanted the ability to choose what you did with your life. You wanted to see what the rest of the world looked like outside of your room in the palace.

You wanted Dejun. And he wanted you, too.

But perhaps that grasp of freedom was something you didn't deserve. After all—at the end of the day, there wasn't truly any aspect of your life's path that you chose yourself. Even the idea of freedom was ludicrous. Everything was preordained for your life by the same gods (who you had been told since birth) that had put your father on the throne—to say or do otherwise was simply unthinkable. Heresy. A refusal of everything you had been put on this planet to do.

It had clearly been too long since you had any reminders of that fact—and so your father's advisors, moods changing like the tides of the ocean, provided you with one.

Your kingdom and the Xiaos found themselves in a trade standoff—the Xiao kingdom had the grain your kingdom so desperately needed after his soldiers had burned your farmlands down to the soil, but your father's advisors refused to pay what the Xiaos were demanding. They could get grain and cattle at a much lower price from the Qian kingdom to the south—not nearly as militarily advanced as the Xiaos, but a longtime ally of your father's, and a royal family with a son your age.

One too many insults were exchanged between families over tense negotiations—and so your courtship with Dejun was called off. Replaced with a hurried engagement to the prince of the Qian family, a man you'd never met.

And yet—you couldn't burn the roots of what Dejun had planted in you. Now more than ever, you wanted that freedom Dejun had promised you. You wanted the ability to lash out about this choice made for you, to scream at your uncaring father who only saw you as a political pawn to be used for the betterment of the nation.

But what could you do? You had been raised in a calculating way—everything you did was politics. Every choice you made was a stepping stone for your future—and not just yours. The future of your family, your lineage, your nation rested on your shoulders as the next in line for the throne. Who were you to just cast that aside? Run away with nothing but the hope Dejun would follow you? Would he follow you?

There was still a positive outcome, albeit a small one—you learned that while your relationship with Dejun had been broken for you, your kingdom's alliance with the Xiao family was not entirely lost. It was damaged enough to not want your families permanently intertwined, but not enough to go to war again—or more importantly to your circumstance, not damaged enough that their invitations to your family's yearly galas with the surrounding kingdoms had been rescinded.

A full year passed by the time your family hosted another gala, and it took all the self restraint you had mustered within you to not rush across the ballroom and hold him impossibly close to you when you finally, finally locked your gaze onto Dejun again for the first time in a year. You saw the way his eyes lit up when he saw you from the top of the staircase—the same way you had seen them shine all those years ago, when he had first introduced that damned idea of freedom into your stupidly impressionable mind. You wondered if anyone else in the ballroom could hear how loud your heart was pounding.

It took almost the entire evening, dancing with several other princes and high-ranking officials (the ones your advisors had informed you to charm for potential future alliances) before you were finally able to drag Dejun out of the ballroom, unnoticed, and into a nearby corridor.

You stared at each other for a moment. Then two.

Dejun whispered your name, as if saying it too loud would shatter the moment you've given him.

"I've missed you," you said. Ever the careful, political one—you'd ached with how much your mind and soul had missed Dejun, but you couldn't tell him that. What if he didn't feel the same? What if he didn't want to be seen with you, now that you were engaged to someone else? What if—

He leaned across, cupping your cheek in one hand and pressing his lips to yours in one singular, fluid motion.

Once again—Dejun had presented you with an opportunity you hadn't even thought of yourself. You had seen a door at the end of a hallway and thought it to be the only exit—and Dejun had shown you how to escape through a window.

The next two years of galas were the same—on one night a year, you'd entertain guests for hours, dancing until your feet were sore and mind swirling as you tried to remember everyone's name and affiliation and rank. None of it mattered once everyone retired to their guest suites, preparing for a long day of travel tomorrow, and you were free to slip away and spend the long hours of the night, unnoticed, with Dejun.

Each time, you heard a rock at your window as you were preparing for bed, and each time, you knew what it meant. You'd look outside to see a shining pair of eyes in the darkness, holding a single candle and beckoning you to follow. You'd end the evening as far away from the palace as you could get, tangled in Dejun's limbs underneath the moonlight, the two of you only pulling your cloaks back on and hurrying back in giggles when the first rays of morning sunlight were beginning to rise.

It's what you're doing now—heart racing as you ascend the final stair and make your way to the balcony before you. But this time will be different, you know. It has to be.

You're getting married next month to Prince Kun. You should have cut this tryst off before it even began—you know it will only continue to cause you and Dejun both heartache and suffering. And from what you hear, his own father's advisors have been hard at work finding an engagement for Dejun. It won't be long before you're both encumbered with marital duties.

All of this is at the tip of your tongue to tell him—and then he turns around from the balcony railing.

The moon frames his dark hair like a halo, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he sees you walking towards him—and oh, gods, how could you ever tell him anything of the sort? When he's running a soft hand through your hair and he's pulling your lips to his, when you're closing your eyes against him and letting him glide a hand down to the small of your back and press his chest to yours—when you're tasting freedom on his lips, how could you ever take that away?

But the thought still haunts you when you're lying on your back beside him, miles away from the palace and watching the stars glitter in the sky above you. You know why neither of you have discussed the fact that you're engaged to Kun, that you'll be living in a palace in an entirely different kingdom after next month. Admitting that you need to have a discussion, after all, feels like admitting that this has to end.

Dejun stirs beside you—you had thought he was asleep. You turn on your side to look at him.

He smiles when he sees your face, and you can't fight a smile from tugging at your own lips. How can you give this up? "This is it," he says, suddenly, and you feel your stomach lurch—of course he'd be the one to acknowledge this. "Isn't it?"

"What do you mean?" you say, quietly—but the quiver in your voice betrays that you know his meaning all too well.

Dejun reaches across and intertwines his fingers with yours, bringing your connected hands up to his lips as he kisses each fingertip. "Did you want to never discuss it? To lie with me here, and then never see me again?"

You frown. "Of course not. But I don't exactly know how—"

"Run away with me," he says suddenly. "They'll never find us. We can go to the ends of the earth."

You laugh at how abrupt he is. "They'd find us, Dejun. Your father owns the greatest military in the world, and my father has spies on every inch of this continent. We'd never make it across either border."

He's insistent. "We have to try. I told you, all those years ago, that I want to be able to choose something for my life, something that's only mine. It's you, Y/N. I don't care where we are or what we're doing—I can't stand to be apart from you anymore."

His words strike your heart like daggers, but you still shake your head slowly—grabbing the hilt and driving the daggers in further yourself. "It's too late. Don't you see? It's not just my family that's depending on my choices now—the Qians are too. I can't turn my back on this anymore by just running away."

"And who decides that?" He shoots back. "None of this has been up to you. Don't you think you deserve a chance to choose a life for yourself?"

You don't know why it's never occurred to you before. It's a fantasy—all of this. Ever since the moment your courtship with Dejun was called off years ago, you've been in a child's delusion. The real world calls now, with all of its accompanying rules and responsibilities—you have no place allowing yourself to stay in this illusion anymore. There has to be another universe, a different life where the two of you were smart enough to never do anything this stupid, but it isn't this one. There's no substance to you and Dejun. "And in that life, I would do what? Continue to be a once-a-year tryst to you? Do you..." You take a sharp breath. "Do you love me, Dejun?"

He looks like you've stung him with your words—maybe you have. "You know how I feel about you, Y/N, I—"

"Can you say it?" Part of you is screaming internally for giving him an ultimatum like this, for probably ripping away the only respite you've ever had from your life in a cage—but you know that if you don't do it, it'll be done for you. Just like everything else.

"I..." he trails off, and you find yourself utterly afraid for what he might have said—because it might have convinced you.

And then he inhales again. Clenches his jaw. "Goodnight, Y/N."

Your heart sinks, but you swallow down the self-induced disappointment. "Goodnight, Dejun."

You don't think either of you sleep much that night. You watch the sun rise on the horizon hours later—beautiful, cheerful shades of pinks and oranges that are a perfect contrast to the knots of worry you can feel brewing in your stomach.

As you and Dejun hurry back (in silence) to the south side of the palace, you begin to slow at the gate behind the gardens. In the past, you've always stopped here to say your goodbyes before heading back into the palace on your own separate ways, as to not arouse suspicion.

Dejun never stops. He never even begins to slow down his walking pace. Instead, you watch him walk past you, through the gardens and into the side door into the scullery—and now you really can't shake this feeling that you've made a massive, unchangeable mistake.

You remember how much you once hated him—how to even hear the name Xiao Dejun made your stomach twist. Now, you think, you'd give anything to hear his name announced in the same room as you. And it may never happen again.

The month that follows your engagement with Qian Kun goes by in a blur. The wedding preparations, the attire, the food for the guests—it's all chosen for you, anyway, so why should you care? You silently mourn the loss of all things good and routine in your life that you'd come to cherish before—including Dejun.

The wedding itself is a different experience—mostly because you don't feel like you're even really there. Everything is just as you had rehearsed the day before; your father walks you down the aisle in full royal regalia. You stand beside Kun and recite your perfectly memorized vows. You touch your lips to his.

It’s a game, all of it—and you’ve been told every move to play.

You don't eat much at the reception, and your new husband seems to notice. He asks if you're not feeling well, if you need to leave early—and as much as you know you need to stay to keep up appearances, to maintain the alliances your father's advisors have so carefully crafted for you with this marriage—you can't help but nod yes.

Kun is too kind for his own good, you think. He briefly shows you around the royal wing of your new home, where you'll presumably be staying for the rest of your life, before opening the door to the bedroom at the end of the corridor. You expect him to follow you inside, so you're surprised when he moves to open the door again to leave.

He turns around, a small smile of understanding on his mouth. "I'll see you in the morning, Your Highness. When you're feeling better." He hesitates for only a brief moment before adding, "You don't have to keep up appearances around me. I hope you know that."

You don't know that, in all honesty—but you smile and nod gratefully anyway.

You let yourself sit in the silence of your room for a long while, comfortable with it in contrast to the loud reception you can still hear ongoing downstairs. You think about calling for help on undressing out of your royal wedding attire, but the thought of being alone is still far more appealing, even if it takes you an hour to get out of all these layers.

You've only undone two buttons when you hear a thump on the floor, right below the open window. It's a rock, you realize in disbelief as you bend down to take a closer look. You hold it under the candlelight, and you finally recognize the familiar scrawled ink across the surface.

I love you.

You lean over the window, heart pounding so loud you can hear it rushing in your ears—and you see him. He hasn't even dismounted from the horse he must have ridden to the castle on, one hand still clutching the reins, other hand waving in the air to catch your attention.

Dejun's face lights up when he sees you, and you suddenly feel that same lightness in your chest the instant you see it. Like you'd never even left his side.

You grab the candle on your nightstand and bring it by the window to see him better, and it's then that you begin to hear what he's been saying—not yelling, thankfully, to ensure any wedding goers won't hear. But you don't even think you'd mind now, as you lean further out of the window and finally hear it from his own lips.

I love you.

You think about what he said only a month ago, an echo of the things he'd said to you when you were younger. That you deserve to choose.

You think that while there is a lifetime where you were smart enough to never do anything this stupid, there must also be another where you are brave enough to run away—to be in love, to choose with your own mind to leave behind everything you've known for each other. For something that you both know would last.

Maybe there's a part of you that thinks that lifetime can be this one—that they're one and the same. That some part of you still longs to be that foolish, and that brave.

You cup your hands around your mouth and call down to him—your answer to tonight's unspoken question.

I love you too.

a/n: feedback is always welcome through reblogs, comments, and messages 💛 thank you sm for reading!

taglist: @petrichor-han @kangroo-chan @ot7lonelylover @lilacdreams-00 @mainexiii @awkwardnesshabitat @lotus-dly @elizabeth11moreno @nerdysl-t @seung-scrittore

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writemekpop · 1 year

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[10:15 AM]

wc <0.5k, genre: new parents AU pairing: xdj x reader

“Isn’t she the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?” Xiaojun whispered, staring dreamily down at his newborn daughter.

You didn’t look up, eyes glued to your iPhone 14 Pro. “Mm-hmm, yep.”

Xiaojun grinned. “I just can’t wait for us to have another six babies, how about you?”

Still typing, you said, “Of course, honey.”

“Y/n!” Xiaojun exclaimed. “Are you even listening?”

You sighed, looking up at him. “Sorry, babe… I’m just dealing with a crisis because our nanny quit. Who’s gonna look after Neha when we’re both back at work?”

Xiaojun put the baby down and sat beside you. He took your hand and looked at you seriously.

“Y/n,” he began. “What if… we don’t both go back to work? What if one of us stays at home with the baby? I mean… I loved having my mom around as a kid.”

You shrugged Xiaojun off, eyes wide in shock.

“Xiao Dejun, how dare you! I did not slave my ass off to become London’s first female hedge fund manager, just to give it all up because I pushed a human watermelon out of my vagina!”

Neha started wailing.

Your breasts throbbed at the sound of your daughter crying. You struggled to hold back tears, too – you couldn’t believe your husband didn’t support your career.

Xiaojun handed the baby to you. “I think someone’s hungry…”

You huffed as you yanked open your shirt and bra.

“Guess this is the only thing I’m good for now,” you spat. “Why don’t you just tie a bell around my neck and leave me to graze?”

You put the baby on your breast. You couldn’t help but smile at how quickly she settled down.

Xiaojun shook his head. “No, honey, that’s not what I meant at all…” he rubbed the back of his neck, blushing. “I actually thought… I could stay at home with Neha, and you could go back to work.”

Your lips popped open in surprise. “Like… a stay-at-home dad?”

Xiaojun nodded, a smile spreading across his handsome face. “Yeah. I like the sound of that.”

You grinned. “That’s not a bad idea... I’m sorry I shouted at you. I love you so much.

“You, too.” Xiaojun said. He smiled at the baby, who was peacefully sucking on your nipple. “But I love you the most, little one,” he said, in a silly little baby voice.

“Hey!” You snapped, pouting dramatically.

“Just kidding,” Xiaojun said, laughing, wrapping his arms around you in a hug.

You closed your eyes and rested your head on his shoulder, content with your perfect family.

While your eyes were still shut, Xiaojun turned to the baby, winked and mouthed, “I’m not kidding.”

🌼Timestamps Masterlist 🌼

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ronjunnie · 8 days

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XIAOJUN FIC RECOMMENDATIONS

SERIES

ONESHOTS

sleepless cinderella: dejun (14.4k)

love in a major key (11.6k)

forever yours (6.1k)

blazed (m) (5.4k)

the tech guy (2.3k)

cherry flavored kisses (2k)

puppy love (2k)

TIMESTAMPS

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jaesqueso · 1 year

Text

Phantom

pairing: commoner!xiaojun x princess female!reader

summary: you think something is blooming between you and the innocent book merchant but he might not be so innocent after all

for the Aristocracy collab by @junjungsunwoo

word count: 1,462

warnings: angst, vengeance, sword, death

a/n: it might not be within the deadline but it’s here! 😅 hope ya’ll enjoy it! ❤

☽ ・・・・・ ☾

Another ball at the palace. Your parents sure love hosting, mostly likely to show off the wealth that surrounds you every day. But honestly you don’t really care, there’s not much to do around here anyway. Your days are usually spent in some corner with daylight reading a book. Occasionally you sneak into town and on to the book store. Xiaojun has this cute habit of reading the lines out loud and he always gets you the books you want, no matter how rare and hard to find.

As you search the crowd that’s who you expect to find. Surely a commoner like him isn’t allowed in an event like this but today you think you can only make it through with his company. So you made a whole scheme to get him in and since it’s a masked ball nobody’s gonna know.

Standing in the balcony that faces the ball room, your mind drifts off to Xiaojun’s smile that melts your soul, his intense gaze that sees right through you and the melody of his words swaying their way inside your ears. You recall it so vividly it’s almost like your hearing it right behind you. In instinct you turn around and there he is. A black shiny mask covers half his face but you’d recognise those lips and those eyes anywhere.

“You made it.” You happily sigh, taking a step towards him.

“Of course I did.” He kneels down taking your hand and kissing the back of it. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

While you stare at each other with loving eyes, the music changes into a sweet ballad and everyone downstairs smoothly gathers into pairs.

“Would you do me the honor of this dance?” He offers his arm that you gladly take.

“My pleasure.”

In no time you join the other dancing couples and you’re pleasantly surprised. You didn’t know he was this good of a dancer, but it seems like every time you learn something new about him it just makes you like him more. Like when you discovered he not only loves to read but also write, or how he dreams to one day go to Paris.

As you sway around the dance floor, your gaze is fixed on his as his’ on yours. How do you always get so lost in his eyes? You two are so different yet you’re just the same, two souls meant to find each other in this cruel world. You never danced together but it feels like you’ve always been living by the same melody.

For a second your sight drops to his defined lips and you find yourself wondering how they feel, what they taste like. Oh, how you wish you could kiss them. And like a dream he seems to move closer. How crazy would it be if he would close the distance between the two of you right here, right now. Scandalous. Everybody would stop and stare for sure. And what would the king and queen say? You know you’re bound to be arranged into a marriage someday but it certainly wouldn’t be with someone like Xiaojun. But would your parents change their mind if they saw you two kiss?

“Why don’t we go somewhere more private?” His face approaches your ear instead as he whispers the tempting proposal.

“Where?” You just hope he won’t be able to feel the heat come from your cheeks.

“Somewhere no one will interrupt us.” He looks back into your eyes as he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Perhaps your father’s study?”

“No one should be there right now.” Smiling, you nod. “You go ahead, I’ll make sure there are no guards.”

“I’ll be waiting, my princess.” Xiaojun takes a bow before disappearing into the crowd.

Stepping into a corner you grab a glass of water trying to calm yourself down and giving it some time so it doesn’t look suspicious before you walk the halls to the study room. Luckily he choose a location on the fair end of the castle for you to meet, which means less chances for you to get lost. On the way you check for guards and the ones you find you make excuses for them to reallocate somewhere else. The place is like a maze but with so much excitement you don’t even bother to how he knew the way.

“Xiaojun?” You call as you open the door but what you hear it’s not the sweet voice you were hopping for.

“Don’t come in!”

“Oh, don’t be like that to your own daughter. Please join us, princess.”

Your eyes widen when you spot the scene: the king, on his knees, in front of the one you thought you were about to have a pleasant encounter with, holding a sword in front of your father’s neck.

“What are you doing?!” You ask incredulous, as if you were in a dream, or worse, a nightmare.

“Dear princess, I think it’s time you know the truth.” The eyes that once looked at you so lovely are now full of darkness, the lips that once smiled at you like an angel now showing the devil.

“Please, let him go.” You beg. “What has he ever done to you?”

“Should I tell her or should you,” he asks with a scoff, “your majesty?”

“Tell me what?” Your gaze moves between Xiaojun and your father looking for answers.

“Do whatever you have to do with me, just let her go, please!” The king speaks, yelping as the blade tightens on his skin.

“Why should I be merciful with you when you didn’t do the same for me.” He squeezes the handle so hard you can see his knuckles go white. “For my mother.”

“Your mother?” You knew she had passed a few years before, but you never asked how.

“Well, I guess I’ll be the one telling the story.” Xiaojun takes a deep breath. “Your father is not the nice man everybody takes him for.”

“Daughter, leave!” Your father yells getting himself a kick in the back.

“Stay, princess.” The insane look on his face freezes you in place. “You’ll want to hear this.”

“My father has done nothing but the good for the people!” You claim.

“See, there’s where you got it wrong.” His mocking voice makes your blood boil in your veins. “He does good things. But only for the ones who do what he wants. Let me ask you something: is the king faithful to the queen?”

“Of course he is.” Your voice is full of conviction.

“Wrong!” You gasp when the sword cuts through the first layers of skin, smalls red drops running down your father’s neck. “Sorry to break it to you, but the almighty king has slept with half the women in town.”

“That cannot be true!” You say looking at your father for confirmation, but his eyes squeeze shut making you doubt your words.

“Oh, but it is.” Xiaojun continues. “No woman has the guts to tell him no, after all he is the king, right? But my mother… She was a kind woman. And she loved her family. Me. And my father. So when this pig got into her house and tried to lay hands on her, she slapped him across the face.”

“Father…” You can barely see with the tears clouding your eyes. “Please tell me this isn’t true…”

“Unfortunately he won’t be doing that.” He shakes his head. “It’s not very good parenting to lie to your own daughter, is it?”

“Please…” At this point, all your father can do is beg, not sure what for anymore.

“But our kind king doesn’t take no for an answer does it?” Xiaojun looks down, faking a sympathetic face. “So he had to take a different approach to silence her. When I walked into the living room all I heard was your dear father yelling ‘witch!’ before one of his guards slit her throat.”

“No…” Your knees go weak and you crumble to the floor, hands covering your mouth in shock.

“Yes.” He scoffs. “And now it’s time to make things even.”

“Is this why you got close to me? Revenge?” Suddenly it all comes together in your head. “I thought you liked me…”

“You know, for a moment I thought so too.” You see a trace of hope in his eyes before they become dark once again. “But for family, you do what you gotta do.”

You close your eyes as the blade finishes what it had started and the king’s scream echos around the room. He had it all planned out since the beginning, you were just too blinded by passion and desire to see. That was the day you swore never to love another living soul.

☽ ・・・・・ ☾

taglist: @yokshi-unbeliebubble @nc-teen @yutahoes @dimplehyunn @iknowyuno @bebskyy @ne0cultur3technology @nurenciye @luvjeongjaehyun @chenleyang @booyouwhore17 @jenoxygen @star1117-archives

unable to tag: @doahflix @criminalmindsz @jaehyunsprincess

#xiaojun angst #wayv angst #nct angst

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xiaojunsmintchoco · 1 year

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nct oneshot #2 (xiaojun)

pairing: reader x xiaojun

word count: about 1k?

genre: fluff

TW: eating dis0rd3r, please don’t read if this will trigger you!

synopsis: you find it hard to eat, but you make it through with xiaojun by your side to support you.

a/n: I wrote this based on what happened today with my own boyfriend, so please don’t come at me! Once again, if this topic will be a major trigger for you please please please don’t read this! (also I must say, I’m so grateful for my boyfriend and the support he gives 💗)

You’re not sure when and how it happened, but at some point your relationship with food and body image hurtled downhill, which resulted in you coping using unhealthy behaviours and habits that eventually manifested into a full-blown eating disorder. When you finally realised and decided to get better, you found the uphill struggle against your own thoughts challenging, every battle against the demons in your head draining you of all energy. Thankfully, you were blessed with a boyfriend who not only was aware of your struggle, he was also understanding of it and was always there to encourage you through all of your hard moments, which made your recovery journey much more bearable.

“Y/n!” Xiaojun exclaims, opening the door to let you in. “So glad you could make it,” he adds, giving you a peck on the cheek.

“I’m glad we could make it too,” you remark, pulling him in for a brief hug. “So, what are we gonna do today?”

“Hmm, today’s gonna be a pretty chill date. Maybe we can sing karaoke in my room for a while? Then we can grab a snack and then see what else we want to do,” Xiaojun suggests.

“Sure,” you agree, and both of you make your way to his room to set up his smart television and connect it to his computer.

The next couple of hours is a blast, with both of you browsing the internet for karaoke videos and jamming to different hits by various artists, from Queen’s “We Are The Champions” to Wonder Girls’ “Nobody”. Of course, both of you also take plenty of videos and pictures of each other as a keepsake of this date, which would be one of many precious ones to come.

“Would you like a snack?” Xiaojun asks, standing up as you switch the TV off. “I got you something, actually”.

A feeling of apprehension arises in your heart, already having the notion that your snack time would probably be another one of those tough battles. Still, you agree and patiently wait for Xiaojun to bring your snacks in. In a few minutes, he brings in two egg tarts on a plate, and your heart skips a beat as you see them. You used to love egg tarts and often liked to have one as an after school snack — but that was before they became a fear food. Now, you can’t even remember the last time you let yourself have one.

Mixed feelings swirl inside of you, creating a confusing storm of conflicting emotions. On one hand, you so badly longed to eat the egg tart, the mere sight of it bringing up fond memories of the warm, crumbly pastry and sweet, delicious egg custard which you used to enjoy so much. On the other, your inner thoughts were yelling at you not to take the egg tart. Scream. Cry. Yell at him. Whatever you do, do NOT eat it. You’re gonna regret it so much if you do.

“Y/n? You alright?” Xiaojun’s concerned voice cuts through your thoughts, and he’s waving his hand in front of you.

“My ED…it’s making so much noise again,” you admit, voice mousy-quiet.

Xiaojun immediately understands and pulls you into a hug. “I’m so sorry. That must be so hard,” he muses, pursing his lips as he tries to find the right words to say. “I know it’s not easy, so I’m not gonna force anything on you. Just do your best, and I’ll eat together with you, okay? Take your time”.

Nodding, you accept the egg tart that Xiaojun hands you and mentally prepare yourself for the first bite. “Let’s take a bite together,” he whispers, encouraging you to mirror his actions as he takes a small bite out of his own egg tart. “Well done. Savour it, enjoy its taste. Ready for the second one?”

Every bite proves to be a challenge, the demons in your head not backing down and seeming to yell louder and louder, painfully taunting you and stirring up unwarranted guilty feelings. Still, Xiaojun patiently sits with you in his arms, gently encouraging you through it all. “You’re doing so well, y/n. Do you think you can take another bite with me?”

Little by little, bit by bit, you finish the egg tart, powering through the guilt and tears with the support and love Xiaojun provided the entire time. “Last bite. C’mon, y/n, you’ve got this,” he encourages, taking the last bite at the same time you pop the last of your own tart into your mouth.

As soon as you finish, the floodgates burst and tears spill out of your eyes endlessly, the guilt too much to bear. “Great job, y/n. I know how hard that was, and I really think you did well. Let it all out now, I’m here for you,” Xiaojun reassures, and you find yourself back in the warmth of his embrace. On instinct, you return his hug and throw your arms around him as well, leaning into his chest and letting the tears flow. “I’m so proud of you. Really”.

Your storm of tears subsides after some time. “Would you like to do something to distract yourself?” Xiaojun suggests, knowing that that would help with the food guilt that so painfully raged in your heart. “We can watch Netflix, you can pick what to watch,” he suggests, and you nod. “Alright then. I’ll set up my account”.

Before you know it, you’re laughing over Jake Peralta’s antics in yet another episode of Brooklyn-99, still wrapped in your boyfriend’s arms as you soak up warmth and comfort, the guilt having been soothed.

It’s in moments like these, you’re so grateful for Xiaojun’s presence, and the safe place he provides in all of your tough moments.

#nct #nct fluff #nct angst #nct au #nct imagines #nct fic #nct x reader #nct x y/n #xiaojun #xiaojun fluff #xiaojun angst #xiaojun au #xiaojun imagines #xiaojun fic #xiaojun x reader #xiaojun x y/n

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nakakitty · 2 years

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Pensamentos pensantes da Mia: check ✔

Estou tendo pensamentos pensantes em relação à como os neos ficariam num pós-término de um relacionamento desde que escrevi aquele post do Dejun então fiz isso aqui também do Dejun porque hoje eu tô um pó

Vocês não souberam o que havia dado errado, eram tão compatíveis. O que era pra ser uma noite apenas, se tornou anos de namoro, mas algo ali não estava fazendo bem a vocês. Foi a interferência dos pais dele? Foi a rotina que depois de uns anos não estava dando tempo para o namoro? O sentimento havia esfriado?

Bom, você não sabia, e Dejun muito menos. Em um dia nublado, vocês estavam sentados no sofá assistindo a algum programa aleatório, que se te perguntassem, você não saberia responder o que era. Nenhum dos dois estava com os pensamentos naquela sala de estar. Estavam distantes, mais ainda um do outro.

Já em prantos, ele iniciou o assunto, e assim resolveram que talvez deveriam se separar. Ele, fez as malas e saiu de casa, carregando consigo a tristeza, a dor de um relacionamento recém-acabado e um moletom seu, para que ele ainda pudesse se lembrar do seu cheiro. Você, continuava no mesmo lugar, chorando incessantemente, sentindo-se despedaçada, quebrada, destruída, apertando o travesseiro entre os dedos numa tentativa falha de tentar transformar sua dor em algo palpável, que pudesse esmagar e talvez assim fazê-la sumir.

Depois de dez meses, o viu novamente, e assim recuperaram contato. Vocês, todos os dias, mandam mensagens um para o outro, alimentando a esperança de que possam resgatar o que tinham antes, pois mesmo depois de tanto tempo, ele ainda te ama, e você também o ama, pois ninguém será como ele na sua vida. Ninguém é melhor do que Xiao Dejun para você.

#pensamentos pensantes da mia #eu tô chorando k #nct angst #wayv angst #xiaojun angst #nct scenarios #wayv scenarios #xiaojun scenarios

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fly-forever-young · 2 years

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•~𝐗𝐢𝐚𝐨𝐣𝐮𝐧

Masterlist Navigation

•One Shot:

Nothing yet...

•Timestamps:

Nothing yet...

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gureumcityrecs · 2 years

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xiao dejun

wayv masterlist

| ☁ personal fav |

--- nothing yet! ---

#nct #wayv #xiao dejun #xiaojun #xiaojun angst #xiaojun fluff #xiaojun smut #xiaojun oneshot #xiaojun fanfic #nctzen #czennies #wayzenni

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yuyubeans · 1 month

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him.

pairing: mingi x cuteness

genre: me loving mingi

wc: 105

mingi is so pretty. his little donut lips, his pretty monolids with moles all over his beautiful tan skin, he deserves to be painted in kisses he's so... everything. his little bobbling adams apple, his loud laugh, omg he laughs at everything, either way, he's so beautiful, his face, his personality, his soul, ALSO, IF I MEET THOSE FUCKING BITCHES WHO DIDN'T EAT WITH HIM I'M GONNA FUCKING BREAK THEIR NECKS, LIKE HOW DARE YOUUUUU. anws, as I was saying, his pouty lips!! he legit is ":3" like tell me he's not cos he is, my little chicken fajita with nachos on the side :D

a/n: I love mingi so much 😔, this came in my head when I read this anws, I'd love feedback or like insults on my layout, idm man anws bye

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minhyeong · 1 year

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NCT U + MOMENTS AFTER BREAKUP [PART III] !

[ yuta ] when he’s tightly squeezed in between his friends in the round bar booth, shoulders pressing down against his until his limbs go numb, and they firmly, almost reassuringly pat him on the back, promising him the world would continue to spin on its axis as if nothing ever changed, that the moon would continue its orbit even without you; he sets the alcohol down, defeated because that was what scared him most

[ kun ] when he tightens his grip on the steering wheel until the tips of his fingers turn eerily pale, the low hum of the engine falling into rhythm with his hitched breath, and the last bit of hope dissipates into nothingness when you slam the door shut on the passenger side without sparing him even one last glance; he covers his eyes with his cold palms, digging it into his skin until his vision goes hazy so he can’t see that he’s losing you

[ hendery ] when he hears the ghost of your voice reminding him to be careful and he abruptly plants his heels into the ground underneath to bring the swaying swing to a full stop, tugging on the ends of his hoodie as the evening breeze creeps into the crevices of his chest; he pushes forward when the world falls silent again, picking up speed until he becomes parallel to the sky and the chains are creaking, not caring if he’s being reckless because you had stopped loving him

[ xiaojun ] when he’s dragging his feet up the familiar steps to your door, shoving his finger into your doorbell before his fear can make him sprint in the opposite direction, and he nearly stumbles backward when you open the door with an unreadable expression, eyes glazed over as you thrust the box of his belongings into his arms before wordlessly stepping back and letting the door click shut; he feels a sting run along his throat as he swallows the apology that he owes you

[ chenle ] when he’s sitting across from his parents after months of not showing up for dinner, his cheekbones protruding a little more than usual, shoulders slumping forward, and he visibly flinches when they hesitantly ask about you after they see the empty seat at the table, the bitterness flitting across his features before he composes himself, and he shrugs as nonchalantly as he can; he doesn’t know you anymore anyway

[ jisung ] when he holds the wilted leaves between his fingers, the rough edges crumbling to small particles with a little pressure, and he feels a little abandoned like the drooping sunflower infused with dull brown spots that was full of vitality until you left it behind; he twists the spray bottle open and haphazardly dumps the remaining water into the ceramic pot until it overflows and spills past the rim, convinced that there’s no point in trying anymore

#nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct angst #nct 127 scenarios #wayv scenarios #nct dream scenarios #yuta scenarios #kun scenarios #hendery scenarios #xiaojun scenarios #chenle scenarios #jisung scenarios

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sherwees · 4 months

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tomorrow (a sequel to sappoyo)

cw : stalking, literal murders, trespassing, obsession, un consented photography, reader has self harm marks!!!, yangyang has a past of juvenile detention and overall fucked up shit.

side note : PLEASEEE READ part one first because it'll just be confusing.

Yangyang's hair felt frozen, brittle as his chapped lips sighed through a brisk gust of wind, his eyes gazing from the Moon to the processing film in between his middle and index.

His teeth gnawed his bottom lip, ripping a little tear of dry skin. The pain felt numb, the only time he felt real was within the distance of you. You only knew him as a fucking juvie, not like the ones from that one movie where they dug holes in a deserted land; but a starved for days on end juvenile.

His fingers feather the back of his head, he could hear the razor buzz as his pretty brown hair fell to his feet. He basically killed it with all the bleach and hair dye he went through; the white counters covered in a mis-mash of colors, empty bottles scattered on the ground and the cone nozzles in the sink.

“Rainbow” He mouthed, the memory of his heavy eyes looking at the bizarre colored strands in between his quivering fingers in the stained mirror.

But, he wasn't him.

He was different, every dye depicted a new phase.

A new him.

Another starting point for you both.

He'll try again tomorrow.

There you were, yet again. Too immersed in the ingredients of a cooking spray, you were allergic to soy.

The time when you dropped a wine glass at your feet when you were on a fancy date with your “sugar daddy” Kun. He was too immersed talking about his business to realize your allergy, the salmon dish scattered on the ground along with the glass on the marble flooring during your struggle.

His shopping cart came to a cease, taking a moment to bask in your raspberry scent that took up the isle. Something urged and ached his soul to get his attention and he was willing to take the leap of faith.

But you took the leap before him.

Turning around, your eyes were wide with confusion and now filled with woe. A smile appeared and faded on his face once you looked back to the bottle and placed it inside your shopping cart; trying to egg some type of conversation out of this. Your lips shuddered, your eyes looking down at your shoes in shame as you walked closer.

“I'm sorry for what happened..”

He gave a hum, scrunching his nose and played with the hem of his sleeves.

You nodded your head, your hands slid inside your pocket; simultaneously gazing at him with fond eyes. But right before Yangyang fully processed it, you already turned and grabbed the handles of your shopping cart and walked away with a slower, solemn tempo.

His fist clenched, tear after tear fell until the floor was a mess of blurry lines.

Looking back up, you were gone.

His feet paced against the tiled floors, the endless shelves of cereal just became a blur of colors. His hands trembling, unsteady on the shopping carts bar as his teeth clenched and bared together in some sort of resentment.

Your sheepish voice ran through his broken head like a broken record.

Every note and every line became tiring.

But there was still time.

Try again tomorrow.

He observed the subway cart carefully, his feet tapping at the ground. There were no cameras and the area was remote besides him and the lady across from him, asleep. Her drool dribbled down the pole, her fuzz coat covering her chest.. but he mainly eyed the coffee cup in her hand.

Not just any lady. The scum from that very day. Her nasty hands groped and gripped at his body, he took about 5 hours in the shower just to get the icky feeling off of his skin. He even tried to manipulate his memories to believe that the lady's hands were yours at some point.

You were going to forget, soon.

A new path would be opened for a beginning.

His hand reached deep in his pocket for the small bag of fentanyl.

I mean one pill kills right?

He fiddles with the bag with a sigh, walking over to the lady.

An end is always a new beginning, right?

It'll work out soon.

Soon tomorrow.

“Everything's just fucking weird, why won't God just leave me alone? Am I next? That lady fucking DIED.” Your hand trembled writing the entry into your journal, totally not aware of the male in her closet.

'Did the plan work?' Yangyang wondered with a crooked smile rising at the tips of his lips. He wished he could caress your shoulder and tell you “It's ok” but it was merely impossible.

The pen scritch and scratched on the paper once more.

“It'll be me next, I know it will. I feel eyes on me every night, I feel something tingle at the back of my neck everyday.” A tear drops on the paper, dramatically. You looked over to the closet for a mere second, Yangyang's heart palpitated.

“No, No, No..” You cried in a murmur, his eyes went wide in confusion but he then realized.

The films..

His eyes scurried through the films he pulled from his pocket in a frantic rush. Looking through them with the peeking light in between the small opening between the ridges of the closet.

In one photo of you in a pretty white negligee studying for your finals, there was little burn marks that lined vertically and a little too perfectly on your forearm.

Was this all about him?

“I know you're here!” He noticed the blade you now held inside your trembling palm, your innocuous eyes were now rubbed red from the tears. The eye bags under your eyes pushed his concern even further, your face was conspicuously starved.

What all happened while he was gone?

In the tense moment, he pushed open the door in slight hesitation. His blazing red hair met your eyes before seeing his startled eyes come into your full vision, his combat boots making the height difference intimidating.

“So this is the end.. To be killed by you.” You seethed, his heart jumped at the way the word “you” was specifically said. Looking up at him, you notice his expression not even budging. His lips parted like he was about to say something but only a weak sigh came out with a long blink and a furrow to his brows.

“Are you going to kill me too?”

“No!” He grabbed at your shoulders with a broad yell, his cold fingers travelled your neck. His eyes were wide, frantic but you could still sense the hint of a lie in his retort.

“I'll never hurt you.” He coughed before tears finally breached his waterline, his eyebrows were creased in regret.

“But you did.” Your voice carried a cruel tone, your orbs seems to be filled with spite suddenly. Your warm fingers brushed against his icy forearm as you lowered his (now that you noticed) trembling hands, a chill ran through your body at the realization; your hard facade faltering.

“I haven't eaten or slept ever since that same lady fucking died! I knew that somebody was stalking all around my house like a ghost,–” You inhaled sharpily, your gut caves in at the nauseating sensation accumulating within at the memories.

“My clothes are going missing, I reported to the police about how many fucking times about YOU. They never believed me at all, you never even thought about me.–”

“Well I do–” He attempted to stand his reason but you only continued on.

“You're just fucking selfish and–” Yangyang's eyes flashed with animosity, the frustration bubbled up into his throat as his chest expanded into a heave.

“I'm selfish?”

“Yes, you fucking are–” You stepped back, hand resting on your dresser where you placed your emergency pocket knife.

“You don't ever care about my feelings, huh?”

“BECAUSE THEY DON'T FUCKING MATTER.” Your breath became hot and irregular with fury, your frustration bore from your eyes into his own. He knew that you wanted him dead, your body language showed it all.. your fingers inching for the knife and just everything.

“I got sent off for you! I wrapped my cold fingers around that pillow and suffocated that fucking scum because he was planning to kill you if you said no to his fucking prom invitation! You don't even remember me, huh?!” His hands clasped your jaw, he inched closer. His orbs searched yours as if he trying to rerun your memory like a psychic.

Oh...

“Liu Yangyang?” You mumbled at the familiarity that rushed through your mind. Yangyang tried to ignore the warmth in his gut at your remembrance but it quickly died down once he noticed that you stepped away in alert.

The one that got sentenced to 3 years during your junior year for being involved with the smothering of Xiao Dejun.. Your ex? All those notes he sent to you, ending with “Your savior” or “My 爱” creeped you out bad. You responded with a vile letter filled with threats and it ended there.

An uneasy silence settled in, you unconsciously counted the tempo of your heart beat as your hand slid for the knife; slowly and steadily.

“Yangyang, tell me this now..” The knifes edge slid against the wood now fully grasped in your trembling hand, the steel gleamed in your lamp's light. You look down for a second and notice his fist tighten, palms turning white.

Yangyang's love and glory for you now faded into pure resentment.

Maybe he did want to kill you.

Your evil was nothing different of the officer's that handcuffed him that very day ignoring his pleads, his mother that never believed in him like his father did, the lady on the subway and Xiaojun himself.

You were both meant each other.

Meant to be dead and cold.

Before he even knows it, he grabs the knife right from your very hands.

He remembers everything.

Your gurgled scream from the first plunge.

Your final pleads.

Your hands flying everywhere on his coat, neck, shoulders as you cried and cried,

The final puncture to your rib with the blade.

“I don't wanna–”

Another plunge, crimson stained the grey of your shirt.

“just let go!”

Your chest coming to a stop for the final time.

Your eyes stopping mid blink, never blinking again.

No more writing in your journal, no more talking with your friends on the phone, no more listening to music, no more parties, no more dates.

There was nothing for him but so much for you.

Now, there's no time for you both.

He doesn't even register the banging at the bedroom door, your still head in his lap. His nimble fingers trail your jaw to your still warm silver heart pendant, your frozen skin against his warm own, he sighed. You didn't deserve this.

Looking deep into your still eyes, moving a strand that fell down from the force of the door swinging open. There was some sort of command yelled in his ear but he only continued looking at your dead beauty.

There was then a kick to his torso, he looked up at the pistol aimed at his forehead.

He leaned towards his killer.

The cold tip meeting his forehead.

There will be no future for you two.

What was the point of all this then?

There won't be a tomorrow, or a day after.

Try again, maybe another time. .

#wayv x reader #nct imagines #nct x reader #yangyang x reader #xiaojun x reader #nct dream angst #nct angst #nct scenarios #nct drabbles #wayv smut #nct smut #kun x reader

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soupydumplingss · 10 months

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Sweet Venom.

Warnings: Female!Reader x Any NCT member (according to your imagination), angst!au, non-idol!au, reader is an alcoholic, unhealthy marriage, the male is cheating on her, the member is mentally unstable asf, reader is mentally unstable af in a way too, profanities (not much tho ig?...), reader cries in the end.

Note: Italics in "double inverted commas": ongoing conversation

Italics: reader is thinking

Normal letters: narration

The reader first starts the conversation and the member and reader speak simultaneously.

Prompt: "I can finally be me now. There's no serpent wrapped around my neck choking me. I'm free then."

Walking down the streets of Berlin, it's approximately 8:30 p.m. The bustling streets of the city are still full of life. A heavy backpack slung on one side of your shoulder, the first two buttons of your shirt unbuttoned with your tie hanging loose. Stumbling in your path, drunk, you just want to go home. As you fumble for the keys to your door, you suddenly drop something from your bag. A keychain. Specifically a keychain with initials on it. You kick it away somewhere.

After unlocking the door, you enter your house and lock the door. You kick your shoes somewhere and head to your room. Upon entering your room, a strange hit of nostalgia hits. A cabinet full of trophies, a heavy bunch of medals and certificates adorning the wall. Oh, what a kid I was, you thought. Now look at you, a working machine that runs 24/7 with little to no rest. You look at old pictures of yourself on the cabinet, smiling with your teeth on display. At least it's not fake.

Your younger self would've been proudly looking at you as the rich and successful woman she envisioned you as. But the current you isn't proud at all. Sitting in front of your computer on the topmost floor of your company, always working with a bunch of papers blocking your face, a failed marriage, all the youth evaporated from your face. You've forgotten about yourself, forgotten what happiness is, forgotten priorities. Did you forget your dear husband can still come into the house and see you in your heavily drunken state? Aren't you ashamed of picking another bottle of Hennessy from the cupboard in your kitchen and drinking straight from it?

"Why are you in my house again? To take the remaining of your stuff? If yes, then please be fast and get out."

"Just sign the papers and be out of my sight."

"So much for the man who himself was sleeping with another woman. And for the record, this is my house."

"You never gave time to us. She was there when I needed someone to stay by me, not you."

"So that's a good reason to break the vows you made in church? Remember who works harder."

"And that "who" forgets us. You've changed a lot. I love you very much, but she was just there."

"I think this proves that you were always unfaithful and ungrateful."

"You're moving from the fucking point."

"People who cannot express themselves properly stick to the usage of such crude words." You gulp the alcohol from the bottle.

"Still the woman who spits sweet venom even after being drunk. When will you stop this habit of returning home drunk?"

"It's my money. I can spend it as I want to."

"Baby, I left her. I want us to work out as we used to. I'll move back my stuff in."

Lies. That little stain of lipstick on your collar, a few long strands of the brunette's hair, her favorite perfume lingering on you, your puffy lips with a hint of pink on them, your hair ruffled. How much more lies will you feed me? You reek the smell of sex.

I don't think this will work out. I don't think we will work out."

Tears drop from the eyes of the man in front of you. He falls to his knees and hugs your legs while sobbing hard. "I'm sorry. Please forgive me. I won't do it again. I love you very much, honey."

You feel disgusted. Same old empty words, all lies. What's the point of this man using his words when it's all fake? I can literally see her in your car outside.

"I'll sign the papers just as you said. Be out of my sight."

You pulled your legs from his grip. As you take the pen from your pocket, you sign the papers and throw them on his face.

"As I said, be out of my range of sight with the remaining of your stuff."

You took off the beautiful diamond ring adorning your hand and threw it on his face. Drinking does help with unsolicited feelings.

He picked up his stuff and the ring while exiting the house. Finally.

A feeling of odd peace hits you. You feel empty. Were we ever meant for each other? Was it worth it? At least we both spared each others' remaining happiness, you thought. You went inside your room. Opening the door of your large bathroom, you fill the bathtub and hop in with your clothes on and the bottle of alcohol in your hand. You let the tap run. You're wet head to toe now. You think about the fight earlier. ""Still the woman who spits sweet venom after being drunk?" You were my sweet venom, the one who seemed as sweet as sugar but turned out to be a serpent." A fresh stream of tears leave your eyes, dripping down your face as you keep chugging the alcohol down your throat.

"I can finally be me now. There's no serpent wrapped around my neck choking me. I'm free then."

Author: help pls im a new writer 😭 i literally wrote this in 2 hours. forgive me if there is any error in the spellings. this story does seem very unclear without any context but somehow, it feels so right like this. I appreciate any support.

The above gif doesn't belong to me. Only the story and writings belong to me. Please do not copy my writings.

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jaesqueso · 2 years

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You’re next

pairing: co-worker!xiaojun x female!reader (feat the rest of the lets play ball unit as other co-workers)

summary: You go to the middle of nowhere for a team building of a company you joined only a few weeks ago, but can there be other games involved?

for the Game of Survival collab by @neo-shitty and the What Makes Us Sinners collab by @junjungsunwoo

word count: 5,132

warnings: strong language, suggestive but no actual description of anything, death, blood, descriptive murders, mentions of Squid Game, inspired by the movie “You’re next”

a/n: ok so here it is, my first time trying this genre, I had a lot of fun writing it and it ended up turning out bigger than I thought but I hope it’s not too bad and all these years of watching horror movies paid off 😅 hope ya’ll enjoy it! ❤

☽ ・・・・・ ☾

Nervousness runs through your veins as you approach the door. You just hope you got the wrong place, who would plan a team building event in a house in the middle of nowhere, so outside of town? But recognising the familiar vehicles on the drive way you must be right.

Taking a last glance at yourself on your phone you take a deep breath before lifting your hand to ring the doorbell. You hear steps inside approaching the door until it opens.

“You came!” You’re greeted by the adorable Shotaro that engulfs you in a hug. “Come on in, everybody’s in the living room. Well, not everybody, we’re still missing Yangyang, but he should be arriving soon.”

“Thanks.” With a small smile you let him take your coat and follow him to meet the rest of the guys.

Breathing in and out slowly, you try to calm yourself down. You’ve joined the company just a few weeks ago and you’re still not very familiar with your team so you spent way too much time debating on wether to come or not. ‘Please come, it will be good to get to know the guys better!’, you remember Jungwoo saying and honestly it was just a few hours before you’re back in the comfort of your bed, and you’d make points with the others, even if it was way too intimidating to be the only woman in the team.

“Guys, Y/N is here!” Shotaro announces you and everybody warmly welcomes you.

“You can sit over here.” Xiaojun scoots over on the couch giving you some space next to him.

The air between you two is intense, since you joined the company he was the one that has been guiding you and you could feel the sexual tension from miles away. He’s an incredible attractive man, not that the others aren’t, but there’s something about him. And you could tell he wanted to jump on your pants just as must as you wanted him to, you just hope the others don’t notice.

“Yangyang just texted me, he’s late so he said we could start without him.” Doyoung announces and everybody agrees.

You start playing all sort of team games set to “bond and build team spirit encouraging the communication” or whatever bullshit taken straight out of one of the most cliché books on the subject. But at least you get to share some laughs and find out more about the guys and you honestly feel like you’re growing a little tiny bit close to them.

And then there’s this one game. In pairs you have to draw randomly assigned shapes on a piece of paper over the other person’s back and they try to guess what it is. And who did you get paired with? None other than your office crush.

Xiaojun sits down first and you try your best to stop your hands from shaking as you hold the paper over his back. The thin layer of his perfectly fitted dress shirt allows you to feel every single muscle and you gulp, mind already imagining the piece of clothing gone.

Like a mind reader, he guesses every single shape you trace placing you two right in front of the race. When it’s time to switch you’re nervous you might not be as good and end up lowering your score but his touch, apart from leaving your heart beating faster, goes straight into your brain and it’s like you can see the paper on your back. With a flawless score you win the activity leaving the others cheering yet jealous.

“How can you not get it right? These were basic shapes!” Doyoung slaps the back of Haechan’s head.

“It’s all your fault, you’re the one who doesn’t know how to draw!” Haechan bickers back.

“Sorry Mark, I tried my best…” Shotaro lowers his head.

“It’s ok, it’s just a game.” Mark rubs his back giving the other an encouraging smile.

“But wait, I think there’s a tie.” Jungwoo points out and everybody looks at the score chart where it seems like the other two teams are in fact tied.

“I demand a new round!” Haechan quickly gets up with his hand in the air.

“I think we should swap partners though.” Doyoung rolls his eyes.

“That’s not fair, guys.” Jungwoo calms the atmosphere in the room. “We’ll do another round, each pair chooses which one will draw. And I guess Y/N and Xiaojun can sit this one out, it’s a clear win for you. Everybody agrees?”

Looking around the room you see everybody nodding and after deciding the roles they all get ready to re-start.

“I’m gonna get some more snacks.” You get up and head to the kitchen as Jungwoo initiates the round.

While you’re opening some packs of snacks placing them in bowls you feel another presence in the room, right behind you.

“Need help?” The whispering voice against your ear makes you yelp, a few chips falling to the ground.

“Xiaojun, you scared me.” You place a hand on your chest trying to calm your racing heart.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to.” With a smirk on his lips he helps you clean the mess. “I didn’t know you were that good at these games.”

“I didn’t know you could draw.” You grin turning your head to him.

“What can I see, there’s a lot of things about me you don’t know about.” He steps closer but you don’t move.

“I guess there are, I mean, we haven’t known each other for that long.” Biting your lip, your eyes never leave his.

“True,” he steps even closer, trapping you against the counter, “but we sure do make a great pair.”

“I’ll have to agree to that.” Your gaze drops to his lips as his tongue swipes across them before he closes the distance between you.

The kiss is hungry and desperate like both of you have been waiting for this moment since you walked into the office on your first day and you laid eyes on each other. Hands start roaming over the clothes as the your lips move more intensely and you get lifted to sit on the counter.

But suddenly there’s a noise, like glass breaking.

“Did you hear that?” You push him slightly.

“I’m sure it was nothing.”

Xiaojun pulls you back to his lips and you try to ignore the noise and succumb into your desires but then you hear screams.

“Something’s happening, we need go check it out!” You push him further and get your feet on the floor, running back into the living room where the noises came from.

Cursing under his breath, Xiaojun follows you.

“Get down!” You hear someone yell as you get to the door and instantly follow through.

Looking around you can see the windows are broken and there are pieces of glass all over the floor. All your co-workers are hiding behind furniture, except one.

“What’s happening?” You ask Mark which was the closest one to you.

“I d-don’t know, we were j-just doing the game and s-suddenly arrows started coming through the w-window…” Mark stutters clearly terrified with the situation.

“Arrows?” You scrunch your eyebrows. “What the hell is going on? And why is Jungwoo just laying there?”

“Shit!” Mark curses as you all take a closer look noticing an arrow pierced straight across Jungwoo’s chest.

“Jungwoo!” Doyoung crawls to him trying to wake him up but it was too late.

“What the fuck?!” Mark joins the lifeless body unsure on what to do.

And then you see Shotaro sitting next to where Mark was, hands on his head, torso moving back and forward as he whisper “no” over and over again.

“It’s gonna be ok.” Crawling to him you grab your arms around Shotaro’s frame trying to calm him down. “Where’s Haechan?”

At the sound of his name, Haechan groans from a hidden corner. Mark hurries to him only to see an arrow pierced through his thigh.

“He’s hurt!” He shouts in panic.

“Keep your voice down!” Doyoung warns him. “They might still be out there.”

“Who the hell is doing this?” Mark tries to pull the arrow from Haechan’s leg but the younger just groans more.

“Why are they doing this to us?” Shotaro’s voice is small as he looks at you with watering eyes.

“I don’t know…” You bite your lip trying not to cry too. “Does anyone have their cellphones? We need to call the police!”

“No service.” Xiaojun speaks for the first time since you two got to the living room, after checking his and placing it back on his pocket. “ But I think there’s a phone in the hall. I’ll give it a try.”

“Did you see anyone outside?” You ask still trying to understand what’s happening.

“It’s dark already and there are no lights outside.” Doyoung explains still trying to figure out how to help Haechan.

“How’s idea was it to come to the middle of nowhere anyway?” Mark sounds desperate.

“I think it was-” Doyoung recalls but gets interrupted when Xiaojun comes back.

“Phone’s off, whoever’s doing this probably cut the line.”

“Fuck!” Haechan screams and Shotaro’s cries become louder.

“It’s gonna be ok.” You hold him tighter. “I’m taking him to one of the rooms until we figure this out.”

Wrapping one of Shotaro’s arms around your shoulders you carry him to an empty room and help him lay in bed.

“We’re getting out of this.” You hold his hand. “We’re going to find a way to call the police and they’ll come to rescue us in no time.”

“Promise?” His pleading eyes begging you to be right.

“Promise.” Without certainty you just hope you’re not lying. “I’m going back to see what we can do.”

“No!” He squeezes your hand tighter. “Don’t leave me alone, please!”

“It’s ok Shotaro, I’ll be right back. Lock the door behind me so nobody comes in and only open if it’s one of us.” Nodding reluctantly he lets you go.

Once you’re gone, he starts to get up, grabbing the key on the night stand, when he notices a silhouette behind the door. He squints his eyes trying to understand what it is but before he can say anything he feels the cold of a blade swiping across his throat. Blood squirts all over the room, his hands not enough to stagnate the bleeding and his voice is gone right before his life.

Back in the living room Mark’s nerves kept getting the best out of him.

“Fuck!” He shouts. “What are we going to do?!”

“Calm down!” Doyoung yells back, hands holding his cardigan around Haechan’s wound, the boy still groaning at the pain. “We just need to find things to defend ourselves and maybe wait until the morning to go seek for help.”

“Wait until the morning?” Mark snorts. “Fuck this, I’m gonna get the police myself.”

“Mark wait!” Doyoung calls but the boy is already grabbing his car keys and walking out the door.

“Where’s he going?” You ask having just arrived to the living room.

Outside Mark runs carefully to where all the vehicles are parked, looking for his until he notices a particular one.

“Is that Yangyang’s car?” He tilts he head walking closer but suddenly his eyes widen. “Wait, is he doing this shit?”

Upon closer look he notices there are some words written on the window in red.

“You’re next.” He reads. “What the hell does that mean?”

Mark reaches for the door, opening it surprised it was unlocked, but nothing could have prepared him for what he saw inside.

“Yangyang!?” His hands start shaking as he reaches for him, removing the jacket that was draped over the man’s torso. “Fuck!”

With a hand on his mouth he steps back from the vehicle after seeing Yangyang’s chest and stomach slashed, guts going past the skin. He keeps walking backwards, in shock with what he saw until he feels a hand on his shoulder. But instead of looking back he looks down to his stomach where the bloody blade of a sword shines against the moonlight.

The weapon slides back from where it came from and he falls on his knees, blood bursting through his mouth. The attacker’s foot pushes him all the way to the ground making Mark turn around to face him.

“Is this a joke!?” Mark’s last words before the sword pierces through his chest as the attacker finishes the job.

“We can’t just sit around and wait, we have to do something.” You mutter.

“Should we check on Mark?” Xiaojun questions. “It’s been a while since he went outside and we haven’t heard any car.”

“I think it’s too risky.” Doyoung comments. “If something happened to him we might be next.”

“We should find some weapons.” You look around the living room searching for things you can use.

“You’re right, maybe we should go into the kitchen and gets some knifes and other sharp objects.” Doyoung suggests.

“Yeah that makes sense.” You already make your way to the kitchen before you hear Haechan groan yet again.

“I can’t, I can’t!” He tells Doyoung who tries to help him up.

“Alright, you just wait here and we’ll be right back.” He puts him back down.

“But don’t leave me here alone!, I don’t want to die, please!” Haechan whines.

“I can stay here with him and you two can go get some weapons.” Xiaojun offers, already walking to the wounded boy.

“Let’s go then.” You tell Doyoung and you both leave the room.

Instantly you start checking every drawer and cabinets placing everything you can use over the counter. You can’t believe just moments ago there was a high chance you were going to get lucky right here and now you’re trying to find a way not to get killed.

“Was that door open when you came here earlier?” Doyoung asks noticing the exit to the backyard of the house was only partially closed.

“I don’t know… ” You tilt your head as you walk to it but stop when you see red marks on the floor. “Is this b-blood?”

“Damn it.” Doyoung follows the trail into the kitchen storage and carefully place his shaking hand on the knob slowly twisting it open.

You both scream when Mark’s lifeless body hits the floor, more and more blood spreading around the tile floor. In the wall behind where he was, the words “You’re next” are dripping in blood.

“What was that?” Haechan’s eyes widen and the muffled screaming sounds.

“I’ll go check it out.” Xiaojun starts to get up but Haechan grabs onto his arm.

“No, no, no! Don’t leave me here by myself!”

“What if they need help?” Xiaojun explains. “I’ll be right back.”

“Oh man, why do I have to go along with every work activity?” Haechan keeps whining as he holds onto to his leg being left alone in the living room.

“Is he d-dead?” Doyoung stutters and you finally see a trace of fragility when he has been the most rationally and put together so far.

“I think so…” You state the obvious before turning around. “We need to go back- Doyoung watch out!”

Pulling him to you, the sharp weapon on the attacker’s hand that was sneaking behind Doyoung barely misses his arm. As you two try to avoid getting hurt by the sword that swings in your direction, Doyoung ends up slipping on Marks blood when you’re able to go around the counter heading towards the door. The boy sees his life flash before his eyes having become an easy target for the masked killer.

The sword lifts into the air and Doyoung closes his eyes but then nothing happens. He re-opens them and sees the attacker’s body falling right by his side, butchers knife stuck on his skull.

“Shit…” You pant having saved Doyoung but killed someone else instead.

“Thank you so much, Y/N.” He quickly gets up and away from the killer.

“No worries.” You take a deep breath, calming your heart that’s filled with adrenaline. “What’s up with the Squid Game masks though?”

“I don’t know, but let’s find out who’d behind it.”

Doyoung scrunches down and reaches for the black mask with the square shape, removing it to reveal the attacker’s identity.

“Jaemin?” He gasps.

“You know that guy?” You ask in confusion.

“Yeah, he was in the team before you joined.” Doyoung stands back up still shocked with the reveal. “He and this other guy, Jeno, were apparently doing some shady work and ended up getting caught transferring company funds into this bank account they had under a false name.”

“Is this revenge then?” You wonder.

“Mostly likely, after all, it was me that exposed the case to management… But they didn’t know, they just knew it was someone on the team.” He lets out a heavy sigh. “I knew they were crazy, I just never knew they’d do something like this.”

“We need to tell the others. That Jeno guy is probably here somewhere too.” You suggest handing him the biggest knife on the counter. “Take that and go get Shotaro, he’s in the room next to the stairs. I’ll take what I can and go to the living room.”

“Ok.” He grabs the weapon and looks back when he reaches the door. “Be careful.”

“You too.”

“Get away from me!” You yelp startled by Haechan’s scream almost dropping everything on the floor.

“It’s just me.” Walking to him you start laying out what you brought on the floor.

“What took you so long?” He sighs in relief. “And what were those screams a while ago?”

“It’s Mark. He’s…” You can’t even say the others.

“No!” He cries.

“Haechan, where’s Xiaojun?” You suddenly remember. “Wasn’t he supposed to be here with you?”

“He went looking for you after you screamed, didn’t you see him?” He explains but you just shake your head. “Where’s Doyoung though?”

“Shotaro?” Doyoung knocks on the door where he believes he will find him but there’s no answer.

Reaching for the knob he opens the door only to see Shotaro sprawled over the bed in a pool of blood and the words “You’re next” written on the wall.

“Damn it, not you too…” Running his hands through his hair, Doyoung can’t help but feel like this is all his fault, if only he had kept his mouth shut.

“Doyoung!” You finally see him back in the living room but he comes alone. “Where’s Shotaro?”

“He…” His voice trembles and you can tell he no longer has strength in him to act strong. “He’s dead.”

“No!” Haechan groans both in pain from is leg and one more of his friends gone.

You remain silent, guilt taken over you. If only you hadn’t taken Shotaro to a different room and left him alone, maybe you’d have been able to save him, maybe he’s still be here with you, alive.

“Where’s Xiaojun?” Doyoung asks. “Don’t tell me he…”

“No!” You suddenly say. “Well, I hope not. Apparently he went looking for us but I didn’t see him, did you?”

“No. Should we look for him?” He suggest.

“Oh come guys don’t leave me here alone again!” Haechan whines.

“Here,” you pass him a couple of sharp knives you brought from the kitchen, “use this if someone comes in. But please don’t attack us.”

“Just…” He sighs. “Hurry back, please.”

“We will.” You promise and take two of the knives handing it to Doyoung, “Take one too.”

“Thanks. I’ll check upstairs and you search down here, ok?” He instructs and you nod. “If anything happens just scream and I’ll come running.”

“Same.” You two take a deep breath before silently going on your ways.

On the upper floor Doyoung glances inside every room, knife held high ready to stab anyone that crosses his path. Well everyone except the person he’s looking for. Suddenly he passes by an half open door and sees someone inside.

“Xiaojun?” He whispers grabbing the attention of the man inside.

“Oh, Doyoung.” He turns around with widen eyes. “What are you doing here? I thought you were with Y/N.”

“I was but then you disappeared so we came looking for you.“ He explains. ”Why do you have that?”

“This?” Xiaojun looks down at the black mask with a white circle. “I found this here.”

“That’s what they’re wearing, maybe they’ve been here.” Doyoung wonders.

“Who?”

“The killers. Me and Y/N ran into one in the kitchen, he came at me and she…” He gulps, hard for him to recall the situation. “She saved my life.”

“She killed him?” Xiaojun’s surprised you’d actually be capable of doing it.

“Yeah…” Doyoung sighs. “But you’ll never guess who it is. Jaemin. And we think Jeno might be on it too.”

“Our ex co-workers? The ones you got fired?” Xiaojun recalls.

“How’d you know?” Doyoung’s eyes go wide.

“You just told me.” With a smirk Xiaojun continues. “Hey Doyoung, do you mind taking a step to your right?”

“Sure, but why?” He asks while moving to the side.

Xiaojun’s grin is the last thing Doyoung sees before feeling blood running down his face when an axe punctures through his skull. His body falls on the floor, face down, like a rug doll. The killer with a black mask and a white triangle steps his foot on Doyoung’s head as he removes the bloody weapon.

“So it was really him, huh?” Jeno says lifting up his mask. “Fucking dick, I knew it.”

“And now we know for sure.” Xiaojun adds. “Good thing I wasn’t caught as well.”

“Yeah lucky you.” Jeno rolls his eyes. “But now we got something more important to discuss.”

“What?” Xiaojun steps back as the other gets closer, tightening his grip around the axe.

“You said she’d cause no trouble, just an innocent girl. And now Jaemin’s dead.” Jeno speaks through clenched teeth.

“I had no idea that was going to happen.” Xiaojun shrugs. “Who knew that little bitch had it in her.”

“I know she’s supposed to be your witness to get out of this mess but you know there’s no way she’s coming out of here alive, right?” Jeno scoffs.

“Well, you could’ve at least gave me some time to have fun with her in the kitchen earlier, but you just couldn’t wait to start the Robin Wood feast could you?” Xiaojun roll his eyes. “Can you at least let me try to get some before you do it?”

“Is that all you think about?” Jeno tries hard not to shout. ”She killed my fucking best friend!”

“Jeno.” Xiaojun places his hand on the other’s shoulder with a grin. “Collateral damage. The deal’s still on, and now it’s all for you.”

“Collateral damage!? Who the fuck do you think you’re talking about-” Suddenly there’s a noise coming from the stairs. “That bitch dies now and who knows, maybe you’re next.”

Putting the mask back on his face, Jeno walks out the door searching for you.

“Yeah, no problem, I’ll take care of this.” Xiaojun rolls his eyes staring at the lifeless body on the floor. “You’re welcome!”

After searching the ground floor without any success you wonder if you should go up and find Doyoung. Taking the first step it makes a cracking noise that echos all around the silent house so you hesitate to take more. While you’re pondering you hear someone approach the stairs.

“Doyoung?” You ask but when the figure turns the corner you recognise the outfit. “Shit!”

Jeno comes running down the stairs as you head to the kitchen and out the back door. He follows you closely, axe in hand and a mad thirst for your blood. Once outside you have no idea where to go so you just run and run until you find yourself in the woods. You can’t exactly see where you’re going but you know he’s right behind you so you know you just can’t stop running.

But since you can’t see the floor you also don’t see the aerial roots of a tree that you can’t avoid tripping onto and fall on the ground. You try to get up and back away but Jeno quickly hovers you and you can almost see the smile behind the mask. Your hands roam on your side trying to find something to save yourself as he straddles your lap lifting up the axe.

“Good girls should know to stay quiet and not get on big man’s business.” He laughs but then stops as he sees a grin grow on your face. “What’s so funny?”

“You.” Grabbing the rock you found on the floor you swing it against his head with all the strength in you, making his body fall to your side. “Well, big men should know to stay out of good girl’s business.”

“Step back!” Haechan screams ready to throw a knife at the person that entered the living room.

“It’s ok, it’s me.” Xiaojun calmly says lifting up his mask.

“You guys need to stop scaring me like this!” Pressing a hand on his chest, Haechan sighs in relief. “Why are you dressed like that? Don’t you know that’s what the attackers are wearing?”

“You know,” Xiaojun shrugs as he walks to the other, “just trying to blend in.”

“Well you should take it off, Y/N and Doyoung might accidentally hurt you.” Haechan advises dropping his weapon. “Where are they by the way.”

“Oh, they’re gone, Haechan.” Xiaojun gets on his knees next to his colleague.

“What!?” Haechan cries. “No, that can’t be true!”

“But it is.” Xiaojun grabs the knife the other was previously holding, running his finger through the blade. “I guess it’s just you and me now. Who do you think is next?”

“Next to what? What are you talking about, Xiaojun?” Haechan doesn’t know what’s happening but his body knows it’s time to be scared.

“Wrong answer, Haechan.” Xiaojun lowers he lips to the other’s ear and whispers. “The right answer is you.”

Haechan gasps as he feels the cold blade slowly and painfully enter his stomach. Xiaojun twists the knife around making sure to destroy his insides and make more and more blood come out of him. Haechan is quick to take his last breath, already weak from his first injury that has been bleeding for hours.

Getting up, Xiaojun gathers some blood on his fingers and starts writing the famous words on the wall: “You’re next”. But then he senses someone in the room. Before turning around he slowly lowers his mask to cover his face.

“Oh it’s you.” He lets out a relieved breath as he recognises the Squid Game outfit with the triangle shape on the mask. “Did you finish her? This one is gone too so there’s no one left and we can just end this.”

The other person stays quiet but Xiaojun is too much inside his plan to even notice, throwing his mask on the floor and continuing his rambling while he finishes the message on the wall.

“So you made me lose my witness but we can still make this work. They’ll just have to believe my story of the ��bad men that came and killed all my friends so I had to pretend I was dead to save my life’ or whatever.” Xiaojun laughs thinking he’s a genius for this plan. “So it will take me a while to go back into the office, you know, emotional damage and what not. But I’ll say two weeks until they offer me that promotion because, well, there’s literally no one else. Then in no time I’ll be in the management board and get you back in so we can finish what we started.”

“So that’s why you did it?” Xiaojun stops in surprise as he expected to hear Jeno’s voice behind the mask. “All for a fucking promotion?”

“Y/N, it’s not what it looks like.” He turns around with his bloody hands in the air as he sees the axe Jeno had earlier on your hands. “Just let me explain.”

“You just explained everything, Xiaojun.” You remove your mask to reveal Jeno’s blood all over your face. “I had no idea you could do something like this. And you were in on their money scheme too? I guess a few weeks is definitely not enough to get to know someone. You’re insane.”

“Am I? That was not your opinion earlier when your legs wrapped around my waist, begging me to fuck your brains out.” He smirks. “C’mon baby, with those two idiots out of the picture you can be my new ally. Like I said before, we do make a great pair. In just a year we can be swimming in money on paradise island in the pacific ocean. What do you say?”

“I say fuck you, Xiaojun.” You swing the axe his way but he smoothly avoids it.

You chase him around the living room trying to hit him with the axe until he gets a hold of a bigger knife and starts attacking back. Somehow he’s able to get a hold of your wrists and knocks your weapon off your hand but your don’t give up pushing him onto the floor as you hold his knife away from you.

An intense battle as your bodies rolls on the floor suddenly stops when you hear skin being pierced with a blade. Blood starts coming out of his mouth as he looks down and see you were able to flip the weapon and stab him with it.

Rolling your bodies once more, you straddle his lap, removing the knife from his hands and holding it in the air. You take a deep breath as you watch his bushed face. Only know you notice the sun is rising as the light from outside shines illuminates his bloody features.

“Tell me, Xiaojun, was it worth it?” You ask for his final words. “Betraying all your colleagues for a few bucks?”

“I’d do it all over again.” Xiaojun has the audacity to speak with a smirk that makes the anger boil in your veins.

With a scream you lower the knife straight into his heart, finally ending the nightmare. But before you can celebrate the fact that you managed to survive this crazy night someone bursts through the front door.

“Police! Drop your weapon and step away from the body with hands in the air!”

Before you turn around and claim your innocence, you look down and realise you’re the one wearing the killers clothing with a knife in your hand and you’re pretty sure they saw you kill your colleague, how are they going to believe you?

Fuck.

☽ ・・・・・ ☾

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