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kaepop-trash · 10 months

Note

Will you ever write another part to fox and hen? I'm dying to know what happens after

Does she let him go? Does he come back? Does Doyoung really hate her as much as he think he does?

I'm hoping you will write one of your miscellanous for this but if you don't I obviously understand. Doyoung's my bias and I've read so many of his fanfiction here. But nothing has hooked me like that one haha

The Fox and the Dog

This sounds so urgent anon is everything okay?😭

You are probably the only other person who wants this story. But the other is me, so here we are. The way you said "Does Doyoung really hate her as much as he think he does?" is really, truly got me stuck on writing this. I will actually never turn away a Doyoung miscellaneous request and that is a fact and a promise. It's 5am and why am I always here like this? I have work in a few hours. 5am me says this is fine so we let her have it.

This ask refers to this fic.

Pairings: Doyoung×Reader ft. Jaehyun

Tags: crime au, assasin×detective, assassin×handler, harmful

Synopsis: When a police officer discovers where a killer lives, running is the only option. When the killer lets the officer go, there are consequences. What happens when he finds her again?

Warnings: Mentions of injuries, stitches, blood, weapons, trigger warning for pain; suggestive sexual content, kissing, nudity, rough handling; everybody is crazy in this one; unironic use of 'who did this to you?'; I have to emphasize that everybody is batshit crazy in this one. Characters in no way represent the people (duh)

WC: 3.6K

She emerged from her shower, skin prickling from the assault of the cold air. Despite growing up in such freezing weather, she could never bring herself to find it anything but distasteful.

One of her scarves lay on the floor as she walked passed her wardrobe. Picking it up, (Y/N) reached into the top dresser drawer where all her silk items were kept. She reached under the layers of clothes to the bottom, the sound of a gun cocking making her stop.

"No wonder it's not where I put it." She scoffed, her hand gripping tight around the next best thing. With her free hand, she threw the first item she could find— her hairbrush. Using the distraction she pulled out a knife, the one she kept just below the gun in the dresser. Before she could turn to face the perpetrator, her body was thrust into the wall, a hand coming to grab the wrist that held the knife.

Her struggles stopped when she met the distinct fox eyes.

"Oh, it's just you." She relaxed in his hold. "I could have killed you Doie. You need to stop coming into a lady's house uninvited. You didn't even let me get dressed." (Y/N) clicked her tongue, a smirk emerging when his a tinge of scarlet bloomed under his eyes.

The towel she had around her waist was now laying on the floor between them, the silk pajama top she wore on top with only two buttons done. The only thing she had on. Doyoung didn’t notice any of it till that moment.

"I'm the one who's going to kill you." He spoke through his teeth, pressing the gun against her jaw. She had to lift her head, looking down to keep her gaze on him as a result.

"I heard they fired you. My condolences." She smiled.

"Because of you." He pressed the barrel harder, the cold metal stinging her skin.

"Don't blame me for your obsessions, Detective. You did this to yourself."

"I was right." The gun eased against her neck, "I knew you left the country, that you came somewhere safe. Close to someone who can protect you." He traced the weapon down her front, the two buttons clicking when it moved against them. She took in a quick breath at the sudden sound— a minuscule action that betrayed her fear. Doyoung seemed to catch on, his eyes dancing with victory.

"You're enjoying this so much." She bit the corner of her lips. "Is that why you're so hard? Sick little freak." She giggled, "Here I thought it was because of how close my bare cunt is to you right now." She tried to raise her hips closer to his, but Doyoung dug the gun into her diaphragm, making her gasp.

"I am not hard." His words whistled from between his tight jaw, face only turning more red.

"No? Why don't you come close and show me?" She raised a leg, wrapping it around his waist.

When she tugged him closer, he resisted with all his force.

Her eyes lit up, "Come here so I can feel how bad you want me, Kim Doyoung." She used the anchor around his waist to bring herself closer to him.

The angle gave her the upper hand. Feeling like he'd lose the hold he had on her, Doyoung had no choice but to come closer. Both of their eyes struggled to stay open when they touched. Doyoung's jaw set tighter than before.

"Is it the thought of taking me or killing me that has you so aroused, Detective?" She whispered, pressing against him harder. "Both, perhaps?"

Doyoung put his hand on the wall beside her, using it to push back while still maintaining his balance.

"Who did you run to, Birdie?" He used her code name. "Who is protecting you?"

She didn't answer, skin breaking into goosebumps as he bought the gun lower. The cold metal slid over her bare skin that was still warm from the shower. Just as her lips parted, he stopped, the barrel resting just above her belly button.

"Who did this to you?" He questioned. Her eyes fluttered open to find his eyes fixed on her torso, forehead gathered. With a huff, she unwrapped her leg, pushing away from him and back into the wall.

Following his gaze, she already knew what he was referring to. Her eyes came on the wound that had only just healed, the puncture of the stitches still visible around the raised skin.

Looking at it brought the memory of the day back. She pulled her gaze away.

"You did." She waited for his gaze to come back up, eyes laced with confusion and rage at the unjustified accusation. He parted his lips to respond, but she continued. "A bottom of the barrel detective figured out where I lived and managed to break in."

"Twice." He interrupted to remind her.

She licked her lips, continuing. "And he managed to escape unharmed as well." His gaze bore into hers, she had to remind herself not to look away. "A mistake like that doesn't go unpunished."

Doyoung faltered at the words, flexing his fingers around the gun to remind himself why he was there. Her chin dropped, and he finally got a good look at her eyes, the edges bloodshot. His gaze dropped to her pale lips just as her equally pale tongue emerged to wet them.

He looked back up when her lips twitched, dragging the gun lower. The top pressed against her injury, the mildest force making her flinch. The area was tender.

"Was it a knife?" He asked.

She scoffed, head tilting to look at the dresser beside them. Doyoung followed her gaze, stopping on the candelabra that sat on the surface. The pricket on top was broader than most, meant to hold thicker candles. Despite looking slender, the edge looked rounded. The width was also much smaller than the long stitch on her stomach. Whoever did this twisted it in, the dull top making it more painful than was necessary. It had to have been intentional. And cruel.

"Who did this?" He asked again, eyes coming back to hers.

"Why did they fire you, Doyoung?" She questioned.

He recalled the day, his mouth tasting bitter. The chief of the federal team walked up to his tiny cubicle, his face red. He asked Doyoung why he was searching for names that had no relation to the murder of the senator they were officially investigating. All Doyoung said was that he was covering his bases. The next day his things were packed in a box and kept on the curb. The name he searched for led him nowhere too, but the chief's actions only made his suspicions turn into an insatiable itch.

"Who is Jae?" Doyoung responded with yet another question. He noticed it clearly then, the colour draining from her otherwise unreadable eyes— fear. It was hard not to notice it. "Was he the one who did this to you?"

"I have never heard that name in my life." Despite the words, she swallowed. "Are you here to play doctor? I thought you wanted to kill me?"

"Is it a name or an alias like yours?" He persisted.

"You need to be quick, Doyoung. I will have to hurt you once I get out of your hold. I don't plan on moving again anytime soon."

"Is he your handler?"

"You don't understand what you're getting yourself into." She snapped. With one swift kick, she kneed his stomach. Doyoung fell back with an audible huff, the impact knocking the gun from his hand. She was on top of him before he could recover, her knife pressed against his neck.

"Think about everything I told you." She pressed the knife further when he tried to move. "You're asking the wrong questions," Doyoung felt his skin break. "Why did I have to move?" She asked him.

Doyoung stared at her with stubborn silence; she pressed her knife further, blood trickling down to the floor. The sharp sting permeated his senses, sending his adrenaline spiking.

"Because I found you then. And I'll find you again." He groaned, "If you kill me, they will know it was you."

"Think, you moron." She leaned over, "Why was I punished?"

"Because you let me go." His words faltered. "That was your mistake."

"I don't make mistakes." She looked him over. He felt blood trickle down his neck, his instincts going into survival mode. It had the unexpected side effect of clearing his mind.

"Do you remember what I told you back then?" Her eyes bore into his, and Doyoung remembered that look well.

"You were afraid." He recalled.

"Tell me, Doyoung. Would I be the one to say I let you go? When I already know the consequences of doing so?" Her eyes drifted down, Doyoung’s following to where he knew her wound sat between them.

She was so close to him that Doyoung could smell the soap she used— lavender and ginger. She stopped digging her knife in, but the wound still bled. He moved himself this time, letting the blade cut through more skin.

“You’re hard again. Is it desire or bloodlust this time?” She said matter of factly, making Doyoung realise that she was sitting on top of his crotch.

“You haven’t asked me to kiss you yet.” He evaded the question.

“I have no intention to. I told you I’d stop asking one day.”

“Lies.” He raised his head higher, fresh blood seeping out. She pulled her hand away with a jerk, a concerned frown darkening her features. Just like he wagered.

Without skipping a beat, Doyoung flipped them over. Despite her agility and fierce training, he could still physically overpower her with ease.

(Y/N)’s head throbbed from being banged twice now. His weight, along with the growing pain in her stomach, kept her immobile. She wondered if the wound would open up again. Her mind was begging her not to fight.

She knew killers better than she knew how to breathe. Despite all of Doyoung's claims, he was no killer. Yet her instincts didn't know anything except fighting back.

When she twisted her waist, the pain in her torso blinded her. She whimpered in pain, tears collecting in the corner of her eyes. But it did what she intended. The move threw Doyoung’s balance off just enough to move him. But he was quick, grabbing her wrists and pinning them down like he had anticipated the manoeuvre.

Before she could think of a way out, he did something she would have never predicted. Doyoung’s lips pressed against her, shocking her motionless. He even dared to let one of her hands go, bringing his down to cup her cheek.

Tilting her head higher, he deepened the kiss. His tongue slid over her bottom lip, prodding at it in silent question. She should have used her free hand to grab the knife that was close enough to graze her knuckles. Instead, her fingers flew to the back of his head, grabbing a fistful of his hair to pull him closer. Her lips parted, and she pushed her tongue against his, keeping the struggle going in one form or another.

He was close enough that she could smell the lingering scent of a cologne on his shirt, peppery and fresh. She wrapped her leg around his waist, and this time he pressed flush against her. His tongue fought for space, a chance to devour her lips. His urgency was as intoxicating as it was worrisome. She distantly wondered just how much he'd wanted to do this. For just how long.

She wanted to tease him, to call him out on it. But more important preoccupations took her time.

His lips left hers to travel down her neck, his kisses fast and coupled with harsh tugs from his teeth. She laughed, the sound breathless and barely audible, moving her head to allow him space. As her ear touched the floor, she heard it. Faint footsteps against the wooden staircase.

She froze, using her fist to pull his head back. He didn't move, his kisses turning rougher. A groan left his busy lips in protest.

"Doyoung." She winced at a particularly hard bite, tugging his hair back with force.

"Sorry." He said once the colour of his eyes changed from lust to realisation. Those same eyes were blown out, lips bubblegum pink. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that."

She didn't have time to take in the guilt that seeped into his features.

"Get off me, someone's coming." She hissed, tugging at the hand that was still in his grip.

He looked partially confused, partially suspicious.

"Someone's walking up the stairs, nobody lives above this floor. Move!" She kicked her legs with more urgency. "You have to trust me. Get off." She added.

To her surprise, he listened. Something she also didn't have the time to dwell on. She dragged him across the room, opening her wardrobe.

With unsteady hands, (Y/N) shoved a bunch of clothes out of the way, the small space stuffed to the brim.

"There's a panel on the wall there," She pointed inside the space to the side, "Get behind it and stay quiet. No matter what, do not move. Do as I say if you want both of us to live." She pushed him in, only having enough time to see him take out the panel she had made herself. Just as he was wedging into the small space, she shoved the clothes back inside.

When she turned to look at her room, her adrenaline spiked higher. The entire place was a mess. Things were pulled off all surfaces, lying shattered all over the floor. She looked around, mind working a mile a minute. A step she had intentionally loosened on the landing right below her door creaked and she knew she had one more flight of stairs.

Diving to the floor, she grabbed the gun and the knife, the latter cutting into her palm. She winced from the pain, wincing harder when she stood up and the pain jolted up from her stomach.

Fuck.

The situation was pushing her tighter into a corner. Shoving the two weapons back into her drawer, she closed it as quietly as she could, the careful action taking time she did not have. In a panic, she made a last-minute decision.

She picked up the lamp Jaehyun gifted her the day she left the academy, the object the closest thing she could lay her hands on. It was a precious gift that she had protected through everything she had been through. It was the thing that symbolised the life that lay on the other side of the hell she had to keep walking through. She stared at the object with regret for what she was about to do.

The main door swung open just as the sound of something heavy shattering echoed in the overcrowded apartment.

Jaehyun came rushing into the bedroom, finding her on the floor with pieces of the lamp in her hand. She looked up, letting fear coat her eyes.

"I didn't," she looked back down, the tears that collected on her bottom lid falling to the floor. "I didn't do it on purpose. I was just so angry." More sobs racked up her throat, and despite her act she couldn't seem to control them. "I was just." She picked up another piece, a shard of one of the cats that was on the lamp. More tears fell.

"Hey." His voice was deceptively soft, "Stop it." He said with a little more bite, "You're hurting yourself." He snapped, kneeling down in front of her. (Y/N) flinched.

He took her hands in his, prying them open to take the blood stained piece out of her hand to drop with the others, stained equally red. "It's fine. Just get up."

"But you got me this when–" She began, her words dissolving into tears.

"I know, it doesn't matter. What's done is done. Get up." He was gentle again, helping her stand up.

He helped her to the bed, sitting her down and kneeling in front of her.

"What's wrong?" He asked, pushing her hair out of her face, "Why are you upset?"

She let more tears fall, "I want to go outside. I missed this city, I want to go to my favourite cafes, boutiques. But your broth–" She bit her tongue so fast that it began bleeding. In her mourning, she forgot about the man hiding in her walls.

"We can go out." He told her, "I'll take you with me. We can go everywhere you want. Anywhere."

"Really?" She asked, mustering the best face of gratitude she could have. Jaehyun smiled, reaching out to cup her cheeks and nodding. His dimples emerged, and she let them rope her in as they had done for decades.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, embracing him. She knew he would like that, but she realised it was a mistake when his belt pressed against the wound. She bit down any sound, but he heard the hitch in her breath anyway.

He pulled back with a frown, inspecting her. He must have realised she was naked from the waist down, but his eyes went to the now red spot on her stomach. His fingers traced the raised skin with a feather-light touch, but she had to bite down on her lower lip anyway.

"It still hurts." He said with sinking realisation. She despised him for the guilt that painted his eyes.

"It's fine. I've had worse." The words were more of a reminder than a reassurance.

"Let me stitch your hand up. The cut is deep." He changed the topic, the offer a veiled apology. She wondered if his hands would shake like they did last time. But she figured it was different when he hadn't been the cause of the injury. "We can go out for dinner after." He looked back at her with a kind voice.

"To the restaurant by the river? Like we used to?" She asked, and he nodded. Despite herself, the joy that came over her face was real.

She walked into the apartment and let out a deep sigh. The days had been more exhausting than usual lately, but today she was actually spent. Walking into her now clean room, she unclasped her watch to put it on the dresser.

"I gave you the perfect opportunity to leave. Why are you still here?" She looked up to the corner from where Doyoung emerged through the shadows. "We'll both end up dead."

"You have an infection. Sepsis. If you don't go to the hospital, you'll die before I do." He told her, walking up to stand in front of her.

She hummed, reaching up to take her earrings off.

"I'm serious." She could hear the furrow of his brows in his voice.

"I know. I've had a few injuries in my life to know when it's serious."

"Your wound hasn't healed properly from the inside. How old is the injury?"

"Is this why you stayed?" She questioned while running her fingers through her hair.

His eyes flickered to the movement, "You need to go to a hospital."

"You need to leave before someone finds you, Doyoung."

"Why are you not listening?"

"I heard you. I told you I know."

"Why didn't you tell the man about it? The one who came today?" He came closer, "If he could stitch your hand, I assume he would know what to do about this."

"There's nothing to be done."

"Was he the one who did this to you?" His brows remained furrowed, lips pouting to join his displeasure.

"Careful, Doyoung. You're beginning to care."

"You just need some antibiotics and a way to drain the puss." He sounded furious. Clicking his tongue in irritation, he took a few steps closer. He pressed his hands against his hips, wiping them once and keeping them in place.

"The only way you're dying is in a jail cell or by my hands." His eyes glimmered in the dark, boring into hers, "If you won't go to a doctor, let me do it."

Her lips twisted, amusement written all over. He tightened his jaw.

"I was a medic in the army. I know how to deal with infections." He spat.

Her brows lifted in surprise, eyes caught in rapid blinks.

"What?" His lips twitched, "Didn't expect someone as bottom of the barrel as me to be a doctor?"

"I didn't expect you to be in the army."

"I needed the money for college. And I needed the health insurance for my sister."

She looked at him with a careful gaze, "Leave. You've already dug yourself so far into this. A little further, and you won't have ground to stand back on. Go back to whatever your life was before this."

Doyoung listened to everything she said, then handed her a piece of paper.

"This is all the medicine you'll need. Get it before you get a fever."

She looked at the paper before looking back at him with an unwavering gaze.

"If you don't go, I will." He sounded resolute. She knew his every tell— he was not lying.

She snatched the paper from his hand. "If I pick these up from any pharmacy, the wrong people will find out. They get a hint that I'm dying, and they'll only come to speed up the process.

"Not if you buy an item each from different places." He pursed his lips, her own twitching.

"I'm impressed, Doie. You have the mind of a thief."

"Better than the mind of a killer." He mumbled, sounding more flustered than he did spiteful. She laughed, turning from him and grabbing the coat she had just discarded.

"I'll be back soon, my fox." She waved before blowing a kiss, disappearing into the hall and out the door.

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doiefy · 11 months

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ballroom extravaganza (m?) // kim doyoung, jung jaehyun // preview

The house on the hill has been a mystery for some time. Some say hell, most say heaven—but for the good and wicked alike, it remains a safe haven built by a faceless group known as the Seraphim, on a foundation of secrets they're willing to take to their graves.

For 27-year-old Jung Jaehyun trying to escape a family and job he hates, the manor is an easy distraction: wealth and extravagance where no one knows his name, and endless entertainment riddled with the type of danger he craves. But for the Seraph who catches Jaehyun's eye one late night, it's nothing short of home. Although held together by a twisted love and afflicted by paranormal activity, the mysterious inhabitants of the house are Doyoung's only semblance of family.

Whether by fate or sheer coincidence, the two are brought together to reevaluate the ground they stand upon, and the horrors buried beneath. And to come to the slow realization: their worst fears have been in front of them the entire time, rooted firmly in both their mortal bodies and broken souls.

genre: angst, paranormal, horror

pairing: kim doyoung x jung jaehyun (yeah i'm fully aware that you nerds don't read mxm but did I ask? no :))

word count: 4.2k preview, ~50k full fic

warnings: heavy language, blood and violence, minor character death, smoking. full fic includes alcohol, drugs, sexual content (not explicit smut but heavy references to/implications of rather intense sexual relationships. despite this, minors pls dni for everyone's sanity), some vague indication of undiagnosed mental conditions and stigma, generally this fic is pretty heavy but I've become desensitized as fuck writing it lmfao.

expected release: july 2023 at the latest or i will literally go insane

this was very much (and obviously) inspired by dpr ian's mito 2, from the general ✨vibes✨ to the chapter titles. absolute banger of an album, do give it a listen while reading. tag list available by dm/ask.

one: seraph

The skies begin to bleach red And the stars begin to fall.

AT DUSK, Seraph’s Hill was truly a surreal sight to behold.

It held the briefest moment between evening and night frozen in time. While the rest of the world darkened to a deep indigo, the property sat isolated, still bathed in a brilliant amber glow. All beige brick and polished marble, it seemed to cradle the sun’s remains between its soaring rooftops and overgrown balconies. It stopped the celestial bodies in their orbits, rewriting time, rewriting space and natural law, all in some vain attempt to retain a few more minutes of daylight. The fountains spewed molten gold, the gardens flashed iridescent colours, and the stone statues lit their wings ablaze.

It wasn’t especially angelic or heavenly, despite its name. It was hardly coherent, if you stared at it for long enough: a strange mismatch of architecture styles, something vaguely between Mediterranean revival and neoclassical, with gothic fountains out front. The lack of coordination was all due to Leliel’s indecision at the time of its construction—so thought the estate’s various visitors. But as the original story went among the Seraphim, Azrael had murdered the original contractor, prompting the hiring of a second person to finish the job.

On this particular evening, the pearly gates swung open for a black car. Behind the wheel, Kim Doyoung looked out across the property—he had one hand steering the vehicle, and the other hanging casually out the window with a cigarette stuck between two fingers. The gates closed behind him, silently, on well-oiled hinges. Even the automated clang of the lock was muted, so as to not disturb guests; peace was just another one of Leliel’s attempts to emulate paradise.

He pulled the car up the driveway, making quick observation of the yard. There was no one in sight; no sign of his contact, and only a handful of familiar vehicles parked behind the west wing. He was to meet a man who had every ill intention against the Seraphim; and it seemed he had arrived too early.

Most would feel restless at this point, either overthinking the entire ordeal or simply irritated by the notion of waiting, yet Doyoung was strangely calm. He parked the car, snapped the key out of the ignition, and hastily pulled the visor down to check his reflection.

The goal was to look effortlessly presentable for this meeting, and not like he had been on the road for several hours. Unfortunately, the black eyes that stared back at him from the mirror harboured exhaustion. The smoke spilling from his lips made for an even harsher appearance, leeching the colour from his cheeks and adding grey streaks to his long locks of jet hair. Someone had once told him he was a visually conflicting person: all soft curves dressed in angular shapes, fair skin marked with black tattoos, a gentle voice paired with an intense gaze. He understood now, their reasons for confusion, and how his strange sense of fashion could be disadvantageous at times like these.

He combed his fingers through his hair and tied it at the base of his neck—as well as he could, anyways; it was still too short to stay in place for too long. A bit of cream to soothe the dry patches of skin on his hands, then the cheap cologne he kept in his bag, to mask the potent smell of gas and blood. The cigarette met his lips one last time before he climbed out of the car and crushed it underfoot.

“There you are.”

Doyoung turned, his back meeting the side of his car as he searched for the source of noise. Confusion took him a moment later, when he registered a woman’s voice and a soft silhouette on the wall—dusted with the golden rays of sunset, harmoniously one with the gentle autumn breeze. She stepped out of the shadows in a flash of long, silver hair and silver jewellery. With mean eyes and a deep crease in her brow, she must have been in her early, if not late, thirties.

This certainly wasn’t who Doyoung had agreed to meet with.

“I’m sorry?” his voice came out relaxed, almost a little slurred. There was a long pause before he spoke again, this time tired. “Prince Seir sent you?”

“Foolish boy,” the woman murmured; her speech was so unnecessarily dignified and irritating, but Doyoung said nothing of it. He wouldn’t bother.

Instead, he mustered a wry grimace. “You are Prince Seir, then.” He gave a curious tilt of his head. “Why waste so much of your time convincing me that you were a man?”

“You lot who frequent this hellhole don’t seem like the type to take a woman seriously,” she snorted, throwing her head back. Her silver hair cascaded down her back, catching moonlight between each individual strand. “The women here are treated like whores and servants, isn’t that right? You likely call them to your room for entertainment.”

Doyoung scoffed. “I don’t care for women, ma’am. Never have.” He paused, realizing how that must have sounded to her. “I’m not interested in women.” It didn’t seem to help; she pointed an accusing finger at him.

“You’re really something, boy.“

“And you’re a bitch who’s wasting my time, despite my trying to take her seriously. Now, are you going to give me a job? Or will we be here all night?”

The woman stared at him for another long moment, clearly enraged. Doyoung almost wondered if he was hallucinating—her figure seemed to phase in and out of existence, and her deep anger was so out of place on a set of soft features. She could’ve been a trick of the light, a product of the disturbed mind; and Doyoung could wake up stoned and piss drunk, nowhere near the current scene. It wouldn’t have been the first time.

At last, she spoke. Paired with a deliberate, impatient gesture of her hand came the words: “Come with me.”

Doyoung obliged, following her out of the lot. They walked wordlessly up a gravel road and past a gate, into a garden. It was surrounded on all sides by white walls and arched windows—the centrepiece of the property. Eden was a stunning display of wealth and beauty.

Lanterns dangled from every rooftop, flanking tall, white columns. Water spilled from a colossal arrangement of natural stone. Twin paths of interlocking stones circled the pool, splitting at a particular junction where they then lead to several smaller courtyards. Each alcove housed a statue and overflowing pot of vibrant flowers that climbed up the walls on twirling stems. Doyoung paused before a marble statue of a young maiden and dropped a single coin in her basket, as had become customary. Supposedly Israfel had started the tradition after waking up hungover at her feet.

But the silver-haired lady ahead of him didn’t seem to know this; and even if she did, she didn’t care. Seir snapped her fingers impatiently, and Doyoung hurried to catch up.

They arrived at an alcove on the opposite side of the space, and were greeted by a stone king on his throne. He stared down at them unkindly, his fist tight around his scepter. Without hesitation, the woman reached for his crown, stuck her hand within the circlet of stone, and pushed. The back wall of the alcove, covered all over with ivy and wild begonias, quivered. Then with just the slightest resistance, it swung inwards to reveal a dark tunnel.

The woman fished a flashlight out of her pocket and switched it on. “The Seraphim’s lair.” She gave the stone king a patronizing pat on the shoulder, then sneered at him in contempt, “Hidden behind a statue of a king. A little too on the nose, don’t you think?”

“Perhaps,” Doyoung muttered wryly, and followed her into the tunnel.

With a bit of effort, they replaced the wall, though Doyoung thought it was an issue of little importance; at this hour, most would be far too intoxicated to notice.

Once the wall had been pushed flush against the statue, they were swallowed by darkness. The flashlight did little against it, but Seir forged ahead with confidence, leaving Doyoung to stumble along. It was silent for the first few minutes, before classical music began to drift through the walls, adagio and mezzo piano. Snippets of conversation followed. There was a broken moan, and then a flirtatious laugh. Slow inhales. Satisfied exhales. Deep within the walls of the property, the pair bore witness to a multitude of illicit activities.

At long last, it fell quiet again. The ground began to slope downwards, steeper and steeper, until it reached a short flight of stairs. Seir paused at the bottom, feeling carefully along the wall for something. All of a sudden, a dirty yellow glow washed across the room—what looked like a storage closet, only about two arm spans across. Pinned to the furthest wall was an arrangement of photos and notes: the Seraphim, their names, images, details, entire floor plans for the estate in which they supposedly lived.

“What is this?” Doyoung asked. He was taken aback, to say the least, by the sheer amount of detail, not to mention the unknown motivations behind it all. He stepped forward to take a closer look, reaching instinctively for the photo that had slipped loose from the corkboard. The image of a striking man with black hair and eyes flashed before him, then vanished as Seir slapped his hand away.

“Don’t touch,” she hissed.

“I was looking.”

“Look with your eyes. You’ll touch them soon enough.”

“These are the targets?” Doyoung raised a brow, doing a quick count of the photos. Eight. “All eight of them?”

Seir gave a dissatisfied growl. “I did most of the work, didn’t I? How difficult could it possibly be for you to kill them, when all the details are so conveniently prepared for you?”

“I wasn’t complaining,” Doyoung snapped. “And I don’t doubt my abilities. I doubt your abilities in miraculously tracking down every last detail about the eight most mysterious men in the city. Forgive me when I say I’m skeptical.”

“That isn’t your concern as a contract killer. You have no loyalties, you’re paid to do as I tell you, not to refute—”

Doyoung snorted in disbelief. “I’m not allowed to be curious? Believe me, you’re not the only person who has been after the Seraphims’ true identities. This house is a mystery, and I want to know how you solved it.”

There was a beat of empty silence. Then the woman's lips curled back in visible disgust, revealing a set of gleaming white teeth. Her hatred was unmistakable. “Go dig through a shithole first, go get dirt under your fingernails, go whore yourself out to the most despicable scum of the earth, then maybe you’ll figure it out yourself. You have no idea what I’ve done just to get here.”

“Well, then I commend you—”

“Your praise won’t change my mind, boy.”

Doyoung frowned. So she was conceited enough to be condescending, but not quite enough to break at his praise. Fine. He could resort to other methods.

He turned his attention back to the Seraphim, noting their angelic names and dangerous appearances. No two looked the same—each visually unique on their own—yet when lined up one after the next, they began to blur into an indecipherable, melted concoction of facial features. Brown eyes and dark gazes. Grey hair, wild manes, red lips, stained mouths. Uriel scowled at him from behind a pair of red-tinted glasses. Matariel watched with immense judgement, as if her hair wasn’t white as snow and there wasn’t a thick layer of cream blush smoothed over her cheeks.

“You’re missing one,” Doyoung noticed after a few moments—an obvious gap between Leliel and Uriel, and a name written in big, black letters: “Azrael.”

“He’s been dealt with,” Seir replied shortly.

“Didn’t leave his photo up? X his eyes out with a red marker, maybe?”

“You talk too much,” she hissed in frustration. “And Azrael was the worst of them. A cold-blooded murderer. He killed my brother.”

Doyoung scoffed. “And you hiring me to kill eight people doesn’t make you any worse than him?”

“You have no idea what type of people they are. You have no idea what they do.”

He sighed, taking two steps back. The shadows parted for him, and the room fell incredibly still, incredibly silent—and it did so incredibly quickly. One second, the woman’s voice bounced back and forth between the walls, filling the entire space with anger and disdain. The next, she was barely a whisper. Standing about an arms’ length away from Doyoung with her back turned to him, she had become strangely small in his eyes.

“I’m well aware of the things we do, dear prince.”

The silence wavered, trembling as metal appeared between Doyoung’s fingers. There was a visible refraction against the far wall and a shrill warning as something cut through the air. Then his left hand was on the woman’s shoulder and his right was drawing metal across the soft flesh of her throat. Her mouth dropped open in a silent scream, and her eyes bulged out of her skull.

“You killed an innocent man,” he murmured.

He let her crumble to the ground.

The waves crashed. Crimson lapped at his shoes. The weapon hung limply at his side, dripping rhythmically, shimmering with molten amber. He watched the pigment seep into the dead woman’s hair; he watched the white strands float down the red river. Unconsciously, he let a string of curses spill from his lips, then reached for his lighter. What a mess.

Azrael walked out of the room a few minutes later, picking blood off of his nails and bleeding smoke from the mouth.

“You’re making a mess, Doyoung.”

Doyoung looked down. Indeed, there was a trail of bloody footprints behind him: where he stood, they were pink marks against the glossy floor tile, and where the door opened to the hallway, they glistened bright red. Too distracted by his thoughts and the gruelling cleanup after Seir’s murder, he simply hadn’t realized.

Now Johnny peered at him impassively from behind his desk—neither understanding nor upset, simply observing and strangely quiet. Doyoung could feel similar stares from the others around the room; though the other Seraphim were more forthcoming with their opinions, much more outspoken than their leader. Yuta sat in the corner, snickering in amusement and wiping at the red lenses of his glasses. Donghyuck waved at him mockingly. Jungwoo mumbled a pointed comment beneath his breath.

Scowling to himself, Doyoung stepped out of his shoes. He approached Johnny’s desk without them, and set the evidence down for his inspection: a clear plastic bag that held every photo, every paper, every piece of writing from Prince Seir’s wall. In his annoyance and carelessness while taking them down from the cork board, he’d torn several pieces and crudely taped them back together.

“How did you kill him?” Jungwoo crooned from where he sat, fanning his freshly-painted nails with a magazine.

Doyoung responded with only a finger drawn over his throat and a quiet correction: “Her. It was a woman.”

“And how did she manage to piece this all together?” Johnny asked; the room quickly returned its attention to him. He had laid the images out on the table, and was glowering down at them—as if flimsy, blood-stained papers still had potential to do harm. Perhaps they did; the notion of intruders and spies in their midst was hardly encouragement.

“Ugh! That’s the photo on my driver’s license!” Donghyuck cut in, whining obnoxiously as he sauntered over, clearly and horrifyingly drunk. He reached for the two halves of his photo, only to have them snatched away by Johnny.

“Enough,” the elder grunted, gently pushing Donghyuck into a chair and returning his attention to Doyoung. “Well? Do you know?”

Doyoung hesitated—he knew exactly who Johnny would blame if he told him—and he resisted the urge to look at the person in question. “She found the old service tunnel in the east wing,” he started, then paused to survey the leader for his reaction: Johnny narrowed his eyes, but said nothing for the time being. “She snuck around our quarters through the walls and installed cameras in the air vents. That was enough for her to get images of our faces and hear our names.”

“And what about you? She had never seen you before tonight?”

“No. I got lucky. The vents in my room aren’t part of the network in the east wing, and even if they were, I was out of town for a few weeks. She mistook Jeno for me while I was gone.”

Johnny’s jaw tightened. “And she had him killed.”

“Yes.”

The revelation brought a deathly hush. Doyoung was right: they had gotten lucky. Had Seir hired any other person to kill them, had they been even a little less prepared, any one of them could have met the same fate as Jeno.

“Mark,” Johnny sighed at last, locking gazes with the one person who had kept his quiet this entire time. “Come here.”

Mark obediently shuffled to his feet, rising out of the shadows. The expression on his face was already wounded, like he knew what was to come; and when he stood motionless before the leader with his head lowered, he took on the form of a child awaiting chastisement. For several moments, Johnny simply looked him up and down, all prior emotion having disappeared from his eyes. For several moments, the air hung still, as they all held back from doing anything they might regret.

Then Johnny lashed out, striking Mark across the cheek with little remorse.

The sharp sound of contact rang through the room, snapping everyone back to attention. Yuta looked up, frowning. Doyoung tensed. Even Donghyuck seemed to sober, and momentarily quit his garbled whining.

They all knew: Johnny didn’t get violent often.

“John,” Yuta said in soft warning, but it went disregarded.

“This keeps happening, Mark,” Johnny said lowly, leaning forward against the desk so he could stoop a little lower and meet the younger man’s gaze. “Why is that? Did you forget what I asked you to do?”

Mark shook his head no—he remembered exactly what he had been told—but Johnny answered for him anyway. “I said we needed to tighten up our security. Any corridors we’ve stopped using, any rooms that could potentially give us away, I told you to block them off. So why haven’t you?”

There was a shaky breath. “Taeil said not to.”

“Taeil told you that?”

Mark nodded slowly. “He still needs access to plumbing. And ventilation. So I made the corridor accessible on both sides, but only to us— I-I thought he told you—”

“Fine. If Taeil said not to, fine,” Johnny snapped. “But you can do better than some hidden fucking entrance behind a statue that anyone can find.” The pause that came directly afterwards conveyed an even harsher warning. His voice dropped in volume, not low enough to be inaudible, but enough to sound especially cold. “You disappoint me, Mark. You’ve disappointed me too many times. For your sake and the rest of our sakes, I hope this is your last.”

“Johnny,” Yuta called his name again, this time sharply. “Lay off him.”

“When he learns his lesson,” Johnny replied through clenched teeth. “He could’ve gotten one of us killed. Hell, Jeno’s already—”

“You’ve put him through enough.”

Watching wordlessly from the sidelines, Doyoung expected Johnny to snap—to round on Yuta the way he had with Mark, claiming to have done no wrong. He waited for the room to dissolve into chaos, as it often did. But to his surprise, Johnny stayed quiet. He averted his gaze, clenched his jaw, and held back the words that were clearly on his tongue. “You can go, Mark,” he said at last, his expression easing from anger to discontentment when he caught sight of Yuta on his right. “I’m sure you’re busy.”

And to the rest of the Seraphim present, “You’re all dismissed. Doyoung, I’d like a word.”

Mark shuffled out of the room with his eyes still glued to his feet. The rest hauled a drunk Donghyuck along, and Yuta brought up the rear; he closed the door on his way out, leaving Doyoung and Johnny alone.

“You’ve been hard on Mark,” Doyoung said after a few moments, once the footsteps in the hall had faded away.

“I’ve been hard on everyone,” Johnny corrected him. There hung an air of exhaustion around the angel of night, and it was clear as day. His hair hung in dark tendrils around his face. His complexion had gone uneven, dark around his eyes like he hadn’t been sleeping well. While he usually donned various silver accents and expensive accessories to blend into the crowd upstairs, his appearance tonight was rather plain. Doyoung had left town on business only two weeks prior; but this and the thick tension he witnessed earlier suggested things had taken a turn since then.

“Should I be glad that I wasn’t here?” Doyoung asked, noting the collection of cigarette stumps in Johnny’s ashtray—it was normally empty.

And Johnny replied shortly, “I’m sure things were worse on your end.”

He wasn’t wrong; the red stains in the backseat of Doyoung’s car and the duffle bag he’d thrown in a bonfire were enough testament.

“Well, the cleanup was rather—”

Johnny wrinkled his nose in disgust. “I don’t want details.”

Doyoung watched in mild amusement as the leader rummaged restlessly around his desk for something. “I’m worried,” Johnny said absentmindedly as he produced a new pack of cigarettes from the drawer. So the collection of black remains in the ashtray did belong to him, Doyoung concluded as he watched; it seemed Johnny had fallen prey to old habits.

“About what?”

He was left waiting for an answer while Johnny fished a lighter from his pocket and raised it to the cigarette between his lips.

“Everything,” came the delayed reply, flat and emotionless, tight with irritation. “Business has been getting worse. Guests are getting bored and leaving for good. Taeil’s gone off the rails too. He’s deaf to reason.”

“What did he do now?”

“He thinks he can solve all our issues with chemistry.” His face lit up with remembrance. “Right, don’t drink the tap water, he’s laced it with something.”

“Again?”

“Yes, again. Some sort of sedative. He thinks it’ll keep people soft and pliant and dumb enough to consider extending their stay. It doesn’t matter, because it won’t work. Now all of this—” Johnny spread his hands for emphasis. “—these people sneaking around the house and trying to unearth secrets that don’t exist? Strangers putting bounties on our heads when we’ve done nothing wrong?”

“I wouldn’t say we’re completely innocent.”

Johnny gave a bark of emotionless laughter; he couldn’t deny it. The drugs and illicit substances, Doyoung’s side hustle in contract killing, Taeil’s bloodied lab in the basement, countless other things that he had lost track of. All for the sake of found family, for the sake of the most important people in his life and for the sake of their collective sanity, he would allow it.

“Tell me everything,” he said at last, resting his smoke on the rim of the bronze tray.

“Everything about…?”

“This Prince Seir you met.”

So Doyoung told him. He told him about the strange trails that had been left in dark corners of the internet and old clubs of a nearby town. They were subtle messages, sent by an individual who needed a “job” fulfilled on Seraph’s Hill. He told him about Taeyong, who had noticed a strange alias checking in and out of the estate every now and then, the same one Doyoung had seen online. Then about Jungwoo, who passed Doyoung’s name through groups and groups of distant associates, until it reached Seir herself—at which point she contacted him by email.

Johnny never interrupted nor spoke. He maintained the same posture in his chair and took occasional drags from his cigarette, never moving more than was required. Though he was quiet, he was hardly a good listener: unresponsive, horribly vague when he did react, always maintaining an overwhelming presence that loomed uncomfortably over Doyoung as he spoke. He felt as if he was talking to a brick wall, and at the same time, like the brick wall was staring into the very depths of his soul, passing judgement on every word that came out of his mouth.

“You’re on the internet often, then, if that’s how you stumbled across her.” Johnny peered at him with intrigue when he finished. “Forums dedicated to us, online discussion about us… Tell me, what do people say about Seraph’s Hill?”

“A lot of bullshit.”

Johnny was cross. “What do they say?”

“That we’re a house of mysteries. That it’s strange, how people can come in sober and ready to unearth our secrets, but always wake up wasted the next morning.”

“Doing drugs does that to you.”

“The water tastes weird. The statues in the back gardens are creepy. The whiskey is fucking overpriced, and the blonde bartender is sexy. That kind of bullshit.”

Johnny said nothing. For the next minute and a half, they listened to the gurgling of water in the fountains and the classical music from the ballroom. The hands of the clock behind them moved along without noise, but Doyoung heard ticking in his head.

“Thank you,” Johnny said at last, and put his cigarette to the dusty metal of the ashtray. A steady stream of smoke escaped his fingers, fading to nothing. “You can go now.”

Doyoung got up from where he sat, only to see his leader’s expression shift once more—almost like he’d remembered something important. There was a momentary pause, and he seemed softer.

“It’s good to have you back, Doyoung.”

He nodded in agreement; it was good to be home.

On the other side of the property, moonlight fell between the iron gates of hell—illuminating the crimson streaks on the prince’s face, and guiding the two figures who escorted her. Her silver hair made glimmering lines on the concrete, and her broken body scraped haphazardly along the ground. There was no need to be delicate, so long as her innards remained intact for what was to come next. She passed into the underground, eyes wide and unmoving, frozen in their sockets.

And a cloud passed over the moon.

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ncunty · 2 years

Note

MTL nct 127 member to prefer tongue kissing to repeated short kisses. If you wanna add a little description for each member too I wouldn’t be mad at that

btw i’m so excited for your blog!! ive been looking for a mtl nct blog!

Hmmm, this is an interesting one.

Tongue kissing

Johnny

Yuta

Haechan

Jaehyun

Mark

Taeil

Doyoung

Jungwoo

Taeyong

Repeated kisses

Johnny - Haechan

I just think they like it to be more passionate, on the deeper side but also they are horny and just want things to progress faster so they'll start teasing and getting you as worked up as they are.

Jaehyun - Taeil

Sweet guys who get so inside their heads and zone out and just forget to continue kissing. but they can swing either way depending on their moods.

Doyoung - Taeyong

These were hard to place BUT, they like to annoy you with the repeated kisses and they just can't control themselves, like they look at you and their heart explodes so each time they feel like that they just attack you with kisses.

Thank you for the ask, this has been fun to answer!!

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nowdoyoungknows · 2 years

Text

Baby Bunbun's Late night talk with Papa Bunny

Pairing/s: idol!doyoung x fem!reader

Genre/warning/s: fluff, slight angst, temporary long distance relationship, dad!doyoung, secret dad doyoung (public doesn't know he is already a father lol), slight mention of pregnancy, mentions of alcohol and food, cringe alert

Summary: Doyoung is on tour with NCT 127, specifically in Japan. Despite hectic schedule, he promised to have a video chat with you and your precious toddler.

Note: This was inspired by Doyoung's baby picture that he posted on Children's day. He looks so adorable and his smile is so cute. I want to pinch his cheeks. Omg Also wrote this because of nct's ongoing neo city: the link. I hope you enjoy this. I apologize for the grammatical error. The last time I write a fanfic was back in 2017 lol. Lastly, DON'T TAKE THIS PLOT TOO SERIOUSLY. THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION. Unedited.

●●●●

After a tiring but amazing and full of excitement day, the first day of NCT 127's concert has finished. It went by smoothly and perfectly. The fans were delighted with the outstanding and powerful performances of each members. Doyoung himself was fully satisfied of what he had showcased in front of the audience. He is an amazing singer, no doubt to that but he did even better than the previous concert. Everyone was moved to tears in his solo song.

9 pm when the members called it a day and decided to retreat to their respective hotel rooms to take a rest. After concert, they went to a sushi house near their hotel in tokyo to eat their tiredness away and celebrate by drinking maybe a little alcohol.

Doyoung isn't drunk at all thanks to his high alchohol tolerance. He is able to shower, do his skincare routine and the most important thing, to call his precious love back home in Korea. Pressing the call in your name, he waited shortly before you answered it immediately. 'She really waited for me.' He thought with a stupid smile printed on his face.

Tiredness is evident in Doyoung's face but faded as he sees your beautiful face when your videocall starts.

"Hello Hon~!" You greet him in joyful way.

Doyoung's heart skipped a beat seeing your face. That's how in love he is to you. Like him, you are also bed ready as he noticed that you are wearing your sleep pajamas and you are laying on your shared bed at home. He didn't notice how long he was admiring your face when you spoke again.

"Is there something wrong? You're spacing out? Are you tired? You can end the call if—"

Hearing how worried you are, he immediately cut you off by assuring you with a smile. "No hon, I'm perfectly fine. Just admiring you. Missed you so much. Only been in Japan for 2 weeks but I already miss you." He admitted. "Besides I promised that I will call you when I came back from the concert."

Your cheeks warmed up, cheeks flushed at Doyoung's sudden confession. You missed him too, so much. You changed your position and laid sideways from your previous where you were lying at your back. "How's the concert?" You asked him.

Doyoung told you everything from the rehearsal to what they eat after. He told you they drank some beer after which you warned him not to drink too much but eat healthy food and drink milk which earned a chuckle from him because of how adorable you look like when nagging him. NCT's resident nagger was being nagged by his girlfriend.

Both your eyes looked tired and dreamy but your desire to keep up with each other is enough motivation to wake yourselves up. You two are in the middle of talking about random stuff and other things when you stopped listening to your boyfriend for a while to look out for something — someone to be specific, whispering 'be careful' as you slightly raised your body just in case something bad happened. You sighed in relief when nothing happened and no one's hurt. You smiled warmly and tapped the empty space in front of you.

Doyoung's heart pounded loudly as the mattress rises, shuffling noise of the blanket and a familiar giggle was heard. "Hi appa~" The boy, his son, greeted him cheerfully and full of energy then flashed his gummy smile, duplicated from his signature gummy smile but lesser teeth as the boy only has few of them.

"Hi babyyyy!" Doyoung felt re-energized. Seeing his son's adorable face and cute gestures made him want to pack his things and fly to korea at the same moment. He felt sorry for not being there for him because of work which you fully understand and support.

"He climbed to our bed on his own." You reported your son's new achievement. The bed is not that high to climb for a toddler but it is a big deal for a child who is in the stage of learning. Doyoung is proud of course but at the same time, wished he was there to witness it himself, personally.

"Wow, our little prince is so strong. Good job." He complimented him with a proud grin. Your son didn't understand what his father is telling him but he knows it made him happy so the baby gave him a bigger smile. "But baby, you should be sleeping at this hour." Doyoung turned to his protective father mode. It's 10:30 in the evening yet his son is still awake.

"Well... you promised earlier this morning that you will call us after work. I swear I already told him all the excuses why he should sleep already and not wait for you but you know... he is quite stubborn when he wants to do something." You explained. "He misses you so much."

Your words earned a pang in his heart. He dearly feels bad for you especially his son. He wants to be there for him, if only he is allowed to bring him to his work. Sensing that Doyoung is down for not being present physically, you tried to cheer him up. "Hey. Don't worry, hon. We understand. We support you. Don't ever think about giving up your career because of us."

This is not the first time Doyoung brought up that issue of giving up his idol career just to be full-time with your little family and of course marry you. However, you refused several times. You know how much he loves his craft even before he met you and you can't afford to see him give that up just for you. You don't hold it against that and supported everything he does, watching his performances, musical and drama, even teasing him with his kissing scenes. Someday, you will figure things out.

"Always remember, we are always here for you. Do not worry." You assured him sincerely.

Doyoung got emotional. "What did I do to deserve the two of you. I love you so much." Doyoung replied.

"Well, you deserve all the love because you are an amazing man." You smiled at him. Doyoung really looked shy and cute whenever you compliment him and kind of boost his pride. You want to pepper him with kisses.

You gave the father-son moment for a minute. Listening to your son tell random stories to his father to the best he can. It's unclear and honestly doesn't make sense at all in an adult's perspective but your child is enthusiastic and talkative, he is learning as you noticed he adapted some new words. Doyoung replies to his stories as if he fully understands it, trying to have a conversation with his son while you just laugh and scream internally because your boyfriend and son is the duo everyone should see because of how entertaining they look. They actually deserve to appear in a show but their situation is different.

The conversation between your boys ended and Doyoung decided that the precious child should sleep now so he sang him a lullaby, a children's song but the baby shook his head. Doyoung frowned. "Why baby? You don't want appa to sing to you anymore?" He asked.

Your son look at you hoping you will explain it better to his father as he doesn't know how and you get his message. You chuckled a bit and spoke. "Hon. He doesn't want nursery rhymes." You explained as he listens. "He watched you sing your solo song in the concert from a fancam and he likes it so much. I use that to put him to sleep." It earned an inaudible "ohh" from Doyoung.

Doyoung was touched how his song not only touches the fans' heart, not only you but his beloved son as well. He doesn't understand any single words from the lyrics but maybe he felt the emotion plus it was sung by his father, the soothing voice your son loves the most. For his son, exclusively for him, he sang his piece "The Reason Why It's Favorite."

Singing it to him while in his hotel room, lying down made him realize how his son was robbed of the moment of seeing it being performed while his father is on stage. The boy is still too young to attend the concert and lastly, the public doesn't know he already had a child of his own. Surely, the fans know that he is in a relationship to a non-celebrity, they are fully aware of his relationship with you but they have no idea that he got his girlfriend pregnant. The reactions are divided the moment the dating news sparked. Seeing you being harassed by some of the so-called fans already made him guilty, how much more if they knew about his child. Doyoung can't afford to see the child being hated. His son is the most precious child in the world and he doesn't deserve the hate that he might receive from the heartless people who refuse to understand other people's feelings. That is why he come to a decision to conceal his son's existence.

I love you, I love you

Maybe you won't be sad anymore

I love you, I lovе you

Always be my favorite

As he finished his son, that's the time he heard his son softly snoring, eyes shut, sleeping peacefully, drifting to his dreamland. The little prince looks so innocent and quiet as if he is not the most talkative kid in the world.

"He is sleeping already, maybe you should be too." You said in your most quiet yet audible tone. Doyoung nodded. "Good night Hon. Kiss our prince for me." He asked which you complied by planting two loving kiss in your son's chubby cheeks but careful enough not to interrupt his deep sleep.

"I love you y/n." He confessed like it was the first time he tells you that.

"I love you too, Doyoung." You replied before Doyoung ended the call.

#doyoung x reader #writing #doyoung #nct fanfic #nct x reader #doyoung fluff #doyoung nct #doyoung imagines #doyoung fanfic #doyoung angst #nct 127 #doyoung scenarios #doyoung x y/n #doyoung x you #nct doyoung #nct 127 doyoung #doyoung drabbles

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d0youngread · 1 year

Text

10:52PM

(suggestive/smut, poor attempt at angst, fwb to Lovers)

____________________________________________________________

Your hands tangled into Doyoung's black locks as he pushed your clothed cunt further down onto his hard on, a whimper escaping your lips as he smirked into the kiss. Pulling away you looked straight at your best friend who gave you a look of slight concern mixed in with lust.

"Young-ah.." you made direct eye contact with him as he hummed, in regards to that he's listening and curious to whatever you had to say. You hesitated for a second before kissing him again, deciding that you rather not embarrass yourself if you were going to confess your feelings to your best friend of six years in the middle of a makeout session.

You felt him slightly grind against you as you pet the back of his head. Starting to slowly pull away and fill your jaw and neck full of tender butterfly kisses you spit, "i.. I- doyoung you know that.. you know how we've been close a long time now right?" Humming in agreement he slid his hand under your top, a slight whine leaving you before you continued.

"Well.. i thought that i might've just liked that idea of you know.. having you close, however.. i realized I just didn't w-want just your body Doyoung." You hitched as he quickly stopped you from grinding on him anymore and stood the both of you still. "Y/n, what are you trying to say?"

You knew he was playing dumb so you wouldn't have to beat around the bush, your heart fluttered as he gave you the look he always gave you when he could see through you. There was no point in trying to beat around the point when he could say it for you at that point.

"Uh, well, I'm sure about the agreement we had when we started this whole, benefits deal." you sighed deeply as he placed an arm around your waist waiting for you to finish. "But I couldn't help myself but find myself actually- like- i couldn't help it when I fell for you young."

Stop stuttering idiot, this wasn't how you decided to fucking tell him.

"...You like me?" He said it for you as you nodded, head hung low as you basked in melancholy knowing he had feelings for your other friend. "But it's okay!" You faked a smile as you looked back up at him, "i know you like someone else.. and it's fine with me. We're only in it for the sex right?" He could feel the emotion leave you as you slowly let go of him, but his grip stayed tight as he held your chin up with his free hand.

"I never had feelings for her you know, I felt the need to say that because I thought you had feelings for Jaehyun.. but I guess that makes two of us huh?" "Yeah."

"I hope I didn't make things awkward between us though, young." You placed your hands on his shoulders as silence fell in the living room, only the sound of cars and rain hitting the window was heard as you looked out into the night view. "Things won't be awkward between us Y/N, trust me, okay? Because if you couldn't tell by now, I love you.. probably more than you love me."

A slight wave of relief washed over you as well as arousal, but you wanted nothing more than to just finish what he started. "Y/n-ah, are you listening? Y/n."

You got up quickly grabbing his wrist, "glad to know."

"What are you doing-" You cut him off as you pulled him down by his collar, red lips colliding with his as you lovingly kissed him before leading the way to your bedroom. "I hope you meant that, because

now I'm gonna keep making love to you all night until I'm the only person you remember."

____________________________________________________________

a/n: HELP it wasn't the best but I was tired of seeing this in my drafts everytime I seeked to get closer to finishing my Yuta fic. I hope you kinda enjoyed it though? um ANYWAYS-

-🐉

#127 reactions #nct 127 #127 doyoung #doyoung #nct doyoung #kim doyoung #kim dongyoung #doyoung nct #doyoung nct127 #doyoung fic #doyoung drabbles #nct drabbles #doyoung smut

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yongislong · 2 years

Text

[ ncity playlist event ]

now playing ... KIM DOYOUNG

without you - strawberry guy

morning sex - ralph castelli

seasons - wave to earth

159cm - tank

instagram - dean

alaska - maggie rogers

right where you left me - taylor swift

face to face - rex orange county

punks and poets - elliot root

let it pass - jakob

now viewing ... // in his airy white and beige room with his crisp, poofy linen comforter is where he indulges in this music mix. he thinks of you of course, regardless if you're asleep on his chest, are in the other room, or even in your own respective space home alone, no matter how energetic or soft the song is, he always seems to be able to pass out a few songs in on his mattress.

glasses still on, pink glitter retainer case on his bedside table and the blueberry muffin candle he left lit seems to lull him to sleep until the sunlight that once caught the speckles of dust in its muted yellow light have now flooded the room with darkness

you push his bangs back from his forehead as a greeting and before you know it he's clinging and rubbing his bareface all on your waist like a puppy. //

#nct 127 moodboard #nct 127 fluff #nct icons #nct soft blurbs #nct fluff #nct reactions #nct blurb #kim doyoung #doyoung #doyoung nct #doyoung fluff #doyoung blurbs #doyoung drabbles #doyoung moodboard #doyoung x reader #doyoung aesthetic #nct x gender neutral reader

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fly-forever-young · 2 years

Note

i wonder how nct members would take care of their s/o when they have period cramps </3 :((

•~𝐍𝐜𝐭 𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐝 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐬

Masterlist Navigation

• 𝐃𝐨𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠

-He's calm, he makes sure you're okay, if the cramps are really bad he makes you swallow the pain pills

-He understands what you need without having to tell him

-Doyoung: "In the meantime that the pill takes effect, eat the cake I bought you"

• 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐰𝐨𝐨

-Does the only two things he does best, cuddle you 24/7 and bring plenty of food to eat.

-He Takes advantage of your pain (lol) to be able to cuddle you, you find yourself lying on the bed with his head in your stomach

-Jungwoo: "I can hear your cramps"

• 𝐗𝐢𝐚𝐨𝐣𝐮𝐧

- He tries to distract you with his dog, he doesn't know what else to do to make you feel better except wait

-to pass the time, he shows you TV series or sleep together

-Xiaojun: "Do you want to try to sleep maybe after you feel better"

• 𝐑𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐧

-He asks you what he can do to make you feel better, he gives you his sweatshirt to make you more comfortable

- He treats you as he usually does, he jokes and teases you

-Renjun: "Are you pretending to have cramps to get my attention?"

• 𝐉𝐢𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐠

-Lost boy, he doesn't know what to do and asks his hyung for help

-You get more attention from him, he worries that you ate, that you slept well, if you are cold he brings you blankets etc.

-Jisung: "I'll bring you the pillow so you can sleep here on the sofa?"

• 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐤

-Kinda confused, it hurts him to see you suffer and doesn't know what to do to help you but is by your side at all times

- He will do everything you ask him

-Mark: "I'm going to the supermarket do you need me to get you something?"

• 𝐊𝐮𝐧

-He don't let you get out of bed, he will clean the house and make food.

-He brings food to your room while massaging your belly with his hand

-Kun: "Better now?"

I hope you like it😊❤

(When you make a request either specify which nct units you want or specify if you want all members, if it is done as in this request I will write for random members, I should have said this before and it's not a problem, you just simplify my work, nothing personal I took advantage now that I have encountered this doubt and when the requests are open again I will mention it)

Love You 💎❤❤

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allaboutthedongs · 1 year

Text

In love with this fine man ❤️

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lucyandthepen · 2 years

Text

last night on earth - i . | kdy

part ii, part iii

you soon find out that there are more dangerous things than the flesh-eating undead during a nationwide implosion.

pairing: doyoung x reader verse: zombie apocalypse au rating: M for horror themes only ! genre/s: romance, horror/suspense warnings: brief but stil present mentions of and sometimes depictions of violence, mentions of and possible minor character death, language word count: 4.2k

author’s note: i have an unhealthy attachment to this fic and the plan i have for it so please don’t come for my neck !!!!!!!! i simply had to ;~;

It starts off at four in the afternoon with a series of emergency phone calls.

The first is a woman reporting an intruder in her house — nothing the department hasn’t handled before, and it just seems like an isolated criminal case, so they dispatch you and your partner, Youngho, to quickly investigate the situation. Even with Youngho’s less-than-lawful driving speed and his fulfilment of his desire to dramatically enter a house by kicking the door down when no one answers (because he’s always wanted to do that), you find the place lacking in commotion when you arrive. You don’t even have time to contemplate how eerily quiet the house is when both of your phones go off, and you hear the deputy chief’s voice, uncharacteristically ragged, yelling down your line.

“You two better get your asses back to HQ,” he roars. Even with the volume of his voice, you can’t help but notice the phones ringing off the hook, trills constantly overlapping and being cut short by frantic co-workers answering them two at a time. “We’ve got emergency calls from all over the city, and now the mayor’s on the other line screaming at us to lock the whole city down.”

“A city lockdown?” You’re still expressing your shock to him when you feel yourself being dragged out of the house by Youngho’s unnaturally firm hand. It’s likely he’d gotten the same call from someone else, since he’s urging you to hurry up and get in the car, and he even helps you along by pushing down on your head and practically shoving you into the passenger’s seat. “What the hell for?”

“Fuck if I know,” he says curtly. “Just hurry already. Chief wants to see everyone, but he wants to talk to both of you, too.”

“But we — ” the deputy chief hangs up before you can get another word out, which is just as well since Youngho had just floored the gas pedal, and the police car revs so loudly you actually feel your ears pop a little. “What the hell — who called you?”

“Chief,” Youngho answers. “Says we need to get back ASAP.”

“Did he tell you why?”

“Yeah, and while he was at it, we had some tea and crackers, and chatted about the weather.” He throws you a patronizing look. “He barely got five angry words out before he hung up.”

“That’s pretty weird.”

“For the chief? Not really.”

You end up agreeing in silence, watching the houses zip by from your window. Everything looks scarily empty in this area; it’s mid-afternoon, though, so you don’t really make much of it, since most people tend to be out for work or just coming home from school at this time. You’re not even really sure why you feel like the street seems so eerie, but you end up brushing it off, allowing your mind to focus on more substantial things, like the sound of static that strengthens and weakens while Youngho fiddles with the police scanner.

That plan of distraction works out for about five minutes, at which point you see an old lady on the sidewalk get tackled to the ground by a flurry of limbs.

Your extremely loud curse word harmonizes with Youngho’s, and the back of your head hits the headrest of your seat hard as he slams down on the brake, the car skidding sideways as its inertia is interrupted and it quite literally swings off course, barely missing a lamppost. The both of you scramble out of the car, pulling out your handguns and positioning them, Youngho’s hand a little steadier than yours, even if you don’t really care to admit it.

The elderly woman is on the ground, her grocery bags a few feet away from her arms, which are limp for the most part, save a finger or two twitching helplessly in their attempts to reach out at her fallen food. Her attacker, probably a middle-aged man in a business suit, is hovering over her, almost motionless in a pool of her blood that’s slowly creeping past his knees. You’re the first to cock your gun — you can’t imagine why he wouldn’t just run away, but you also can’t imagine why a sensibly dressed human being might go out of his way to attack a harmless old woman.

Youngho’s gun clicks a few seconds after yours, but the man doesn’t seem to be fazed by it; in fact, he hardly seems to notice, especially since, upon slightly closer observation, he seems to be retching or something over her body. You can’t even mistake it for crying because the sounds are just downright disgusting. Even Youngho’s face, as you observe from the power of peripheral vision, is contorted into this slightly uncomfortable expression.

You dare to step closer, and Youngho follows suit, but the guy doesn’t budge anyway, too busy probably vomiting over the poor lady to care. It takes all of your willpower not to wrinkle your nose, but the distressingly wet sounds coupled with the new stench that assaults your nose makes it pretty difficult.

Your partner takes the initiative to speak, because you’re not entirely sure what to say at this point. “Put down whatever weapons you have and step away from the body, sir,” Youngho’s voice is just as steady as his hold on his gun, which is extremely admirable considering that neither of you still have any clue as to what this man is up to. “Any sudden movements or attempts to flee will be met with gunfire.”

You think the man might start running (as is expected) or might freeze up and beg for mercy (as is also expected), but you don’t expect him to wheel around and sneer at you with blood dripping down his chin and a pearl from the old lady’s necklace trapped between his teeth. The front of his shirt has been ripped open, too, and there are scratches and wounds — bite marks??? — on his skin, many still fresh. His expression isn’t angry, or terrified, or guilty; all you can see on his face is the raging desire to rip the both of you apart with his bare, bloody hands, and he makes this guttural, almost animalistic noise to confirm your theory.

At this point, neither of you can be expected to stay composed, so both of you let out a panicked appeal to the Lord, turn to instinct, and fire your weapons.

There’s a reaction from him, sure — your bullet hits his chest and Youngho’s hits his shoulder, and his torso kicks back at the force of the impact. He doesn’t topple over, though; he stays snarling at the both of you, maybe a little more perturbed, while the two bullet wounds leak out more blood, even though he doesn’t seem to care about that either.

“What,” Youngho breathes out; he’s lost a lot of his nerve, and he’s lowered his weapon about halfway, his disbelief taking over. “What in the fuck.”

The sound of Youngho’s voice causes the man to turn sharply to him, teeth bared as wide as his mouth can allow. You don’t know what possesses you to shoot again, but your finger presses against the trigger before you can make a better decision, and the bite of the bullet against the side of his neck causes him to change his target, his murky eyes now fixing on you. He moves himself off his knees in a strangely limp fashion, at which point, the idea that something really isn’t right hits you, and you pull at Youngho’s arm, which has once again raised quickly in response.

“We need to go,” your voice is weak. “Like, right fucking now.”

Youngho stepping back is enough to confuse the guy, who’s now looking back and forth between the both of you like he can’t decide which one he wants to start ripping apart first. The decision doesn’t seem to matter to him at the end of the day, though, because he eventually puts it aside and decides to charge at you with his arms out, screeching horribly, a trail of blood and saliva still hanging off his lips.

“Oh fuck me —“ Youngho manages to wheeze out, panickedly grabbing your arm as well and dragging you back towards the car. You both fumble with the door, and it doesn’t help that you can just hear the growling getting closer. A stream of swear words fills the car as Youngho shuts his door and tries to insert the keys into the ignition.

“Hurry up,” you half-scream. “Hurry up, hurry up, hurry up —”

“Will you shut up?” He snaps, finally jamming the keys in and bringing the engine to life.

“Youngho, go!”

“Shut up!”

Both of you yell when you feel something hit the driver’s side of the car; it rocks a little, and you see hands clawing at Youngho’s window, nails screeching against the glass; Youngho manages to hit the gas just as the man’s snarling head comes up into view, and you feel a slightly less heavy thud hit the vehicle again as you leave his battered body behind in a frenzy of smoke and dust.

Nothing much passes between you at first; you’re both breathing so heavily it kind of feels like you’re sucking up all the oxygen in the car. Both of you start (Youngho almost hitting the brakes in full again) when you phone starts ringing loudly.

“Where the hell are you two?” The deputy chief bellows; you can actually hear his enraged breathing punctuate his question for a brief second. “I told you to get back here right away!”

“Sir, there was this man that attacked —“

“I don’t care what you two have been doing! Just be here in the next five minutes!”

Even the click of the phone sounds angry, and you let out a groan, tossing your phone onto the dashboard. “Whatever your speed is, double it.”

Youngho is still evidently a little shaken, and he complies without question on the matter, knuckles white as his hands grip the steering wheel. “What the hell just happened, ________________?”

“I don’t know,” you admit. “Mental illness? Drug abuse, maybe?”

“He was eating her. He’d chomped down on half of her neck muscles in a minute.”

“I don’t know, Youngho,” you repeat. “Did you ever read that story about that guy who ate another guy in Florida? He was sick, too.”

“Yeah, but he was shot to death by the police,” he reminds you. “Which didn’t happen, in our case.”

“Bulletproof vest?”

“He was bleeding, dumbass.”

You decide to let the insult slide given that it was obvious the both of you were dancing around on your last nerves. Crimes for personal gain were one thing; petty theft, home intrusions, bank robberies were all pretty standard and, while unlawful, hardly gave you the kind of creeps you were experiencing now. Homicides were a slightly separate issue and much more disturbing, but you’ve never had to deal with a case of someone killing someone, eating them, and then refusing to die when shot. Until today, that is.

The both of you sit through the rest of the car ride in silence, Youngho weaving his way through the traffic jam at the rotary. He ends up having to turn on the siren, but it’s of little help, and the deputy chief ends up having to call you again right as you’re pulling up to headquarters. He’s red in the face and about ready to gnaw your heads off when you rush in, breathless and apologetic.

“Can it,” he puts up a hand as you open your mouth to explain. “I don’t give a shit. The whole city’s on lockdown process right now. The mayor wants our full attention on keeping civilians safe from the crisis.”

“What crisis?” Youngho bursts out; he hardly talks over authority, which sort of shocks the deputy chief into a brief spell of silence. “Sir, we’ve just seen a man murder an innocent woman on the street, and he —“

“There are bigger issues than that,” the deputy chief snaps. “Big mobs and mass riots have been cropping up all over different districts. Jung-gu and Mapo-gu have already shut down. We’ve been getting reports that a horde of people have just started raiding and attacking establishments and offices. The entire subway system closed down, too. We’ve already sent out some people to help mitigate the fighting and a bunch of other corporals to watch the city borders. It’s like the fucking purge, except no one knows what started it.”

“So why does the chief need us?”

“Ask him; he’s on the phone with the mayor right now, but he’s also been looking for the both of you. Maybe the next time you two are given an order, you’ll actually do it on time.”

He jerks an annoyed thumb to the chief’s office before stalking off, pulling out his phone to yell at someone else. You and Youngho exchange a look of alarm before walking up to the door. A silent, irritating debate on who should knock ensues, ending when you smack his scissors away with your paper and rap shortly on the door.

“Come in.”

You turn the knob and let the door swing open before pushing Youngho inside; he makes a noise of protest he has to kill immediately when the chief looks up with a grim face, putting the phone back in to the receiver.

“I’m assuming Deputy Choi has already told you about the situation in the financial district.”

“Yes, sir,” you respond simultaneously.

“The mayor wanted the city locked down, but he also wanted some of our people looking after the officials in this city. I’m sending out some of our corporals to guard the senators and high-profile conglomerate business owners in Gangnam-gu.”

Once again, you and Youngho turn to each other in confusion. “But, sir, we’re not —“

“What I’m getting at,” he silences Youngho, who sucks in his lips so far back he looks like an elderly man. “Is that I’m promoting you two. We’re short a few people who can do this job right, and you’re two of the only officers with enough years under their belt to qualify to some degree.”

“Um — thank you, sir,” you start. “But I still don’t understand what —“

“Do either of you two know anything about Kangwoo Logistics?”

“They’re a shipping and manufacturing company,” Youngho answers, then adds under his voice. “My refrigerator is from them.”

“The family that owns it is living in Gangnam; their CEO is living Gangnamdaero and their COO is in Apgujeong. Flip a coin to see who goes where; I don’t care. I need both of you stationed at their doors and ready to gun down anything that might come after them.”

“What’s coming after them, chief?”

He sighs deeply as he picks up the phone, avoiding your eyes as he punches in a number and responds to your question.

“Hell.”

You and Youngho play two rounds of rock, paper, scissors that ends in a 1-all win. He calls dibs on keeping the police car, and you get to choose Apgujeong because it’s closer to your parents’ house, just in case you need to take a shower or raid their fridge, or something. The entire building is going to be locked down as well since all the other officers are on duty, and you’re both cleaning out your locker when the deputy chief comes around and tosses two bulletproof vests at you.

“Promotion gift,” he says gruffly. “You’re gonna need it.”

“Thank you, sir,” Youngho picks up his and slips it on; it sits well on his shoulders, whereas yours almost drowns you. You throw the deputy chief a distressed look, and he has the decency to respond with a sheepish one.

“We didn’t really have a lot of options on hand. You can just pad it out with an extra shirt.”

“Sir,” you tug off the vest, setting it on top of your bag. “About this afternoon — Officer Seo and I were hoping to bring it up with you.”

“What about it?”

“We saw a man attack an old woman. At first we thought it was just a…” you pause; you don’t even really know what it seemed like, let alone what it was. “We thought it was just a random murder, but when we got closer he —“

“Attacked you?” You nod slowly. “What did he do? To the old woman.”

“He was… he was… eating her, sir. It looked like he’d taken a bite out of her neck.”

You expect the deputy chief to look shocked or, at the very least, disgusted, but all he does is sigh heavily, like he’d gotten really disappointing news. “It’s been happening all over the city. People randomly attacking others; and they all end up acting like rabid animals.”

“But what is it, sir?” Youngho pipes in.

“We don’t know. No one really does. Which is why you have to keep a good watch out. The chief’s going to have your ass if anything happens to them.”

“They’re not politicians or anything,” Youngho, who’s been admiring his reflection surreptitiously in his locker mirror, finally slips off the vest and stuffs it in his bag as well. “What makes them so important?”

“Beats me. But the mayor asked for some of our people to be sent over to them, so that’s what we’re doing.”

He ushers you out, reminding you to keep your phone lines open at all times, and you and Youngho pile into the car once again, setting off for Apgujeong. You hardly hit any traffic now, which is fine time-wise, but it’s also not normal for Gangnam at this time — couple that with the fact that most places have closed shop.

“Even Starbucks is closing,” Youngho remarks in some awe. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a closed Starbucks.”

“Will you focus on driving? We really don’t need another death on our hands today.”

“Just type the address,” he says snippily, shoving the paper in your face and letting you key in the street name. The GPS rattles out directions, taking you down Apgujeong Rodeo Street and into the more residential parts of town.

“Jesus Christ,” you press your face against the window, jaw hanging open. “They even trashed the cinema.”

“So we have ourselves some… popcorn-loving cannibals? Like, maybe they use it as a side dish to human flesh.”

“That’s totally disgusting.”

“I was just trying to lighten the mood. I don’t think — what’s his name? Kim Doyoung-nim is going to appreciate his bodyguard not having a sense of humor.”

“Bodyguards aren’t supposed to have senses of humor,” you frown. “And I’m not a bodyguard. I’m a police officer.”

“Yeah, well, starting today you’re a bodyguard with a cool badge,” he drums his fingers on the steering wheel. “We both are.”

“We got a promotion, and you’re talking like this is the stupidest thing that’s ever happened in your career.”

“We got a promotion so we could be babysitters, ___________________,” he sighs, like he can’t believe you’re being this foolish. “Instead of being out there, helping people and saving the world, we have to coddle two rich dudes. We’re going to be going out and picking up their laundry and making sure they eat their vegetables before tucking them into bed. Please tell me what isn’t stupid about this situation.”

“They’re important people; the mayor asked for them to be protected.”

“Because they have a couple of cool boats and have a pretty good name in the kitchen appliances industry?”

“I — just shut up,” you wave him off, folding your arms across your chest. He snorts, slowing down the car as he pulls into a narrow street with a row of huge houses. The street isn’t actually narrow by nature, but there are so many cars parallel parked on either side of the road that you feel like you have to suck in your stomach so that the police car can fit between them.

“Smell that? It’s the smell of pampered chaebol kids and the leather on their expensive sports cars.”

“Give it a rest. Pull up here — right here.” You point to a mailbox with gold numbers on its side that match the address on the paper. “I think this is it.”

“Do you need help with any of your stuff?” Youngho calls out as you push the door open, and you wave off his question as you make your way to the trunk, pulling out your bag. You really do need to go to your parents’ place; apart from the vest, you only have one change of clothes and two pairs of socks. You make a mental note to call them about it.

Youngho rolls down the window as you walk up to the mailbox, sticking his big head out. “Are you going be okay?”

“I guess so,” you adjust the strap of your bag on your shoulder and pat your bulletproof vest reassuringly. “I should probably head in now. Let me know when you get to Kim Jungwoo-ssi’s house.”

“Yeah, I will. Let me know if Kim Doyoung-ssi’s house really does have six bathrooms, like I suspect it does,” Youngho laughs, but there’s no real mirth to his voice; it’s just for show, really. His expression softens when you don’t join in. “Don’t die, okay? I’ll kill you if you do.”

“Please,” it’s your turn to laugh, even if your voice is trembling a little. “You know we’re both invincible.”

“Damn straight,” he ducks back into the car, rolling the window up. You stand on the sidewalk, waving at him, and you see the white of his palm wave back from inside the car as he drives away, trying really hard not to feel like this is some kind of last goodbye.

You have to take two deep breaths to steady yourself before you walk up the driveway; Kim Doyoung clearly lives a comfortable life, with two sports cars parked in front of his house and a well — who the hell has a well in their damn garden? Maybe Youngho’s right — it’s wholly possible that this monstrously large mansion does have six bathrooms.

What it doesn’t have is a proper doorbell, however; you can see that there’s an intercom system with a camera, and it’s obvious that it would be the way to announce your presence, but you still spend two minutes checking out the door just to see if you can ring a more normal bell so you can avoid having to be seen by this guy without seeing him back. Of course, there’s nothing, so you either have to content yourself with the camera-bell system or knock.

You can hear the trill of the music when you press the button; a couple of seconds later, you hear a male voice, a lot softer than you’d imagined, come through the speaker.

“Who is it?”

“Um — Kim Doyoung-nim? It’s Corporal ____________, from the Gangnam-gu Police Department.”

A soft sigh punctuates the brief and honestly awkward exchange; a couple of minutes later, the door opens, and you find yourself face to face with a young man. In his loose sweatshirt and pants, he doesn’t look like he could afford to pay the rent for one of the rooms of the house, let alone actually own it. Half his body is still behind the door; in the shadow it casts over him, you can barely see his face. The only indication that he is the guy you’re looking for is his question.

“How can I help you, officer?”

“The mayor sent me. I’m here to protect you, sir.”

He’s clearly taken aback by this information because the door widens a fraction as he lets go of the knob. “Protect… me?”

“Yes, sir. There’s mass rioting going on in other parts of the district, so we need to secure your home right away.”

He doesn’t respond immediately; you can hear the click of the knob as he turns it — once, twice, thrice. Finally, he sighs again, heavier this time.

“I’m sorry for making you come all the way here, but you need to leave.”

It’s your turn to be taken aback now, but you don’t express this feeling as silently; you sputter a little, whatever composure you had slipping off a bit more. “But — sir, my orders were to —“

“I don’t need your protection,” he says more firmly now. “Good day to you, officer.”

You can’t even imagine how thunderstruck your expression is when he shuts the door right in your face.

#doyoung x reader #doyoung x you #doyoung x y/n #nct x you #nct x reader #nct x y/n #doyoung drabbles #doyoung imagines #doyoung scenarios #nct scenarios #nct drabbles #nct imagines #ficscafe

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fay-zay · 1 year

Text

Back to You

Pairing: Teenage Kim Doyoung x Female Reader

Genre: Angst, past lovers, toxic relationship, the reader is reminiscing the past

⚠️: cursing, suggestive, mentions of blood, cigarettes, alcohol, law-breaking, underage smoking, drinking

Synopsis: Her heart has been broken by him. Not once, not twice but too many times to count. And she left everything she knew so that she wouldn't have to be plagued by what remained of their train wreck of a relationship; if you can even call it that. What if life brings her to a turn a choice must be made? To face him or to not; that was the question.

Memories. Weird stuff aren't they? How they ruin the happiest days and make the worst moments better. She trapped her bottom lip under the clasp of her pearly teeth, her fingers tracing the raised silver patterns on the black invitation card; obviously deep in thought.

"So, will you come?" Narae cautiously looked at the girl who seemed like she hadn't changed the slightest in the past few years and yet at the same time, was also a totally different person.

She was still there, the same Y/N but she looked freer, happier. Freer, without the ever so familiar neutral colour high-neck, plain skirt and plaid blazer with plain tights. Happier without the constant pressure of standards and expectations weighing down on her shoulders. Sometimes, it's best to leave the past where it belongs and live in the present. This was applicable in the case of both memories and people.

But she was somehow still the same. With her proper posture, the neatness in her house, the degrees framed in a blank piece of wall, the vestiges of vintage perfume. The scent of which was oh-so-familiar to Narae thanks to her numerous meetings with the person who birthed her closest friend to date.

It astonished the girl how unlike Y/N's facial structure was from her mother and yet, her eyes were the exact same. Those round almond eyes were the exact copy of Mrs Han. The same balance of cold and warmth, co-existing, just like they were in Narae's memory of their first meeting. As cruel as it might seem, she was carrying traces of the person she hated the most from and would do so for the rest of her life. One can never truly leave the past in the past, after all. It is a part of what makes our future and present.

"I don't know Rae," Y/N softly answered, placing the invitation on the glass centre table between them. "As much I care for you and Taeyong and am happy for you, going will mean facing him and I don't know if I'm ready for that,"

Narae acted quickly, clasping the girl's hand. "You don't have to worry about that Y/N," She assured, her eyes sparkling with repressed anticipation. "He's most likely not to come," "Eh?! Why's that?" The look of curiosity and worry in her eyes assured Narae of one thing. Neither of them was over the other as they had claimed.

When she was young, Y/n watched Tangled religiously. The long-haired girl was stuck in a tower just like she was. As she grew older, she realized that she might not have a rogue prince as Rapunzel did. Until of course, she did.

She was never the one to dig old graves. What was done, was done. She preferred focusing on the upcoming than worrying about the previous. So why? Why was it that this one piece of her previous hunting her so much? She'd left everything. Those people, that environment, those streets, those lanes, that city and the memories. She'd given up everything so that she didn't constantly get reminded of him.

Him. The first him in her life. And thanks to him, no other he ever made it long enough to leave as big of an impression as he did.

Matters of the heart; very complicated indeed. But the complications arise by 10x when the heart is that of a suppressed 17-year-old. And what else could make things even more twisted than they already are, except for a charming 19-year-old boy with a perfect exterior, just like her? The difference? The glint of rebellion in his siren eyes that occasionally turned into sparkling doe eyes, the indistinct lines of ink on his neck, that he made moderate efforts in hiding; only to appease his family.

The swirl of adoration behind the nonchalance in his eyes, the devious prologue of a smirk on his lips and the teasing voice were imprinted in her mind. This was like Rapunzel and Flynn Rider all over again. But this time, her Flynn Rider didn't have a heart and this tangled mess didn't have a happy ending. Han Y/N being, the Rapunzel, didn't get her teenage fantasy with her Flynn Rider. Kim Doyoung.

'I hope you consider coming, Y/N. I really would...'

That was what was all that was visible from the notification bar. As much as Y/n wanted to know what else Narae had written, if she opened that text, it'd be marked as seen and then she'd have to come up with a response. A response she didn't have right now.

She hates doing that, leaving people on seen. Actually, it was about leaving people hanging. She hated feeling like she was abandoned, overlooked and forgotten. The powerful feeling of dejection that was capable of spreading itself in one's whole being within a few seconds. This sinking feeling; Y/N didn't want Narae to feel that way. Her living with this feeling for a larger part of her life was more than enough.

This is why she clicked the device shut before shoving it into the deepest part of her purse and making her way out of the door. Trying her damnest to not glance at the aristocratic-looking black and silver envelope. Damn you Taeyong for having a such top-notch taste!

She liked bright days; ones where you could just feel the warmth of the sun despite whatever layers of clothing you had on. It felt like a hug from someone nurturing, someone protecting. And given that she lacked in that quotient of life; Y/N looked forward to the days that were bright, sunny and warm. And yet! Yet, despite the day being just the way she likes it, she couldn't make herself stand and enjoy the warm hug of Mother Nature.

There was a raging storm of confusion, hesitation and jealousy inside her and until it was subsided, she wasn't gonna be able to focus on anything else.

"He just got out of a pretty nasty break-up with one of Taeyong's ex-boss's daughters," Narae's voice echoed at the back of her head as she pressed the gas and drove past the ever-so-familiar neighbourhood. "It's unlikely that he'll attend since they ended on pretty bad terms after being all over each other for 2 years,"

"2 years?!" She scoffed, "That selfish son of a bitch!" Y/N hissed, gripping the steering wheel hard enough for her slender fingers to start hurting. She was angry, knowing that Doyoung moved on while she was stuck for God knows what reason!

But the problem was, it was only fair they moved on. They were supposed to move on. It had been 6 years since they last saw each other. It was natural that he moved on. Then why was she so angry? Because she couldn't move on? God, the mere thought of it sounded petty and selfish.

But then again, Y/n had never claimed to be the most understanding. In fact, it was because of him that she thought the way she thought.

"Shit! Shit! Shit!" She slammed the brakes, realizing too late that she just broke a red light. With a maniacal cry of frustration, she rested her head on the wheel, the cold metal somehow comforting to her disturbed state. "Fuck this guy!" She mumbled, as three rapid knocks sounded on top of her. And just as she expected, the blue uniform-clad law enforcer was glaring at her through the tempered glass.

"Miss, you're gonna get a ticket for the stunt you just pulled," The officer sternly stated, challenging with his eyes."Yeah, whatever officer," She waved her hands, staring straight. Now why the fuck did the officer look dejected when she simply accepted her ticket? Would he rather she sped away and he got the chance to be a part of an epic street chase?!

17-year-old Y/n had entertained that wish for a long, long time. Not anymore. But as she collected the thin piece of paper, her mind suddenly went down the wrong lane of memory. One that she didn't allow herself to visit for a very long time.

Flashback

"How random can you be!" She laughed, the air filling with the unsettling yet addicting scent of spray paint. "Hey! Don't insult my artwork!" He jibed back, his tongue sticking out in mock annoyance while his eyes shot lasers at her. "I mean, the flowers are pretty but Doyoung, at least try and be creative!"

"Hey!" He complained yet again, noiselessly making his way to the convertible where Y/N lay on top of the windshield, her skirt bunched up enough to see her upper thighs and the edge of her lace tights.

Roughly grabbing her thighs, he yanked her down so that she was now sitting on the hood, almost sliding off thanks to the shiny exterior of the car and the material of her skirt. But that was the least of her concerns as she found herself sharing breaths with him. "I've been plenty creative, dove. You just need to open your eyes wider and see it better,"

And while she busied herself in analyzing the now damaged storefront, Doyoung pulled her closer, nuzzling his face into the crook of her neck, nipping here and there. Her urge to clutch onto his dark locks and hug him tighter was overwhelming but she knew better than to act on her desires! Doyoung's mood was unpredictable and she knew it was smart to keep her hands to herself unless he vocalized his disagreement. Instead, she tried her level best to focus on the storefront he'd just spoiled.

It was beautiful, painted the soothing shades of sea and sage green, looking rather empty without the gigantic display bouquets and flower pots that she was accustomed to seeing in the daytime. What stood out the most was the inky black graffiti Doyoung had made mere minutes ago. The dripping alphabets looked gaudy and misplaced against the otherwise aesthetic flower shop.

'The flowers are fucking pretty' is what he wrote. And she would've been snickering at the irony of the words if the artist himself wasn't busy leaving open-mouthed kisses all over her shoulders and neck! It was impossible to focus on anything really,

And who knows how long he'd have continued this sweet torture if a sickeningly familiar whistle hadn't pierced through the silent stillness of the night. "Fucking hell!" Doyoung hissed, immediately detaching himself from her and running for the driver's seat. And as Y/N herself hurried down the hood and into the passenger seat whilst pulling the hood securely over her face, she couldn't help but feel the sinking feeling of dejection in the pit of her stomach.

"Hurry the fuck up!" He barked, already teasing the accelerator with his foot. And even as they sped away, she looked out of the window, the surroundings seeming nothing but blurs of colours, the night breeze kissing her all over her face as an annoying voice kept on nagging at the back of her mind. 'He didn't wait for you! He saved himself! That's not what someone you like should do!'

But as always, she paid no mind to it. It was easier that way. To avoid what was soo painfully correct to take up the time with him. To be around him. "Are they coming?" He asked, sparing her glace all while still burning rubber. Y/N stuck her head out of the window, the chilly night air now slapping against her soft cheeks as she scanned the road they'd left behind. Sure enough, the cop car was just turning the corner, still very much hot on their heels.

"Yes, they're out for our heads!!" She yelled, whipping herself back in. "Why did you get in? Keep a watch!" "You know I can't do that! It's too risky!" She instantly regretted saying what she said rolling since he huffed out, frustrated before his eyes. Whilst mumbling something along the lines, 'What did I even expect?'

It felt like he'd just stabbed her heart with a sharp dagger. But she simply bit her tongue and pushed herself out of the window again; this time a bit too much to be considered safe. But nonetheless, she kept a watch. Just like he told her to do. Because that's what she always does.

And what hurt her the most was he didn't even notice how many times she almost fell out of the window. How much the edge of the window cut through the material of her shirt and broke the skin of her waist enough to make her wince every time he took a sharp turn.

She didn't realize he just ran a red light until she saw them leaving the traffic sign behind. 'Look at you, Kim Doyoung. Making me do so many unimaginable things, all in one night,' She sighed, pulling the hood tighter around her face. One more sharp turn and too many things happened at the same time. The hand that was gripping the interior of the car gave up, the edge of the window rammed against her waist hard enough to make Y/N whimper and they finally lost the police!

She felt herself falling forward due to his hard brake until one of his arms wrapped around the back of her waist and yanked her back in, his nails digging into her wound, making her let out another agonized cry!

"I leave you alone for 20 minutes and you almost get killed! What the fuck is wrong with you!?" He basically slams her against the passenger seat, the wet feeling under his fingers and a brief glance down to her waist, finally letting him on what he was clearly neglecting. That did something to him. How silent she had been the entire darn time, allowing him to make his sweet escape. And to take his sweet time to act responsibly. Why does he do this to her?

"Look at me Y/N," She refused, tears rolling down her cheeks as she stubbornly avoided eye contact. "Y/N, look at me!" He raised his voice this time, his grip on her arms now strong enough to bruise. More tears, but not a sound went past her lips. Doyoung hated how much it affected him. Her tears, her pain, the look of hurt and disappointment in her beautiful eyes.

"Love, please..." He leaned down to place a gentle kiss on her cheek, the tiny expanse of her skin tasting salty due to her tears. He didn't let up, continuing to dot her cheeks with tiny pecks. Until she finally sighed in what seemed to be defeat and turned her head to face him. "Does it hurt?" He asked, facing her. She simply nodded.

After all these months around her, Doyoung had learned that Y/N didn't scream or shout when she was angry. She just went silent. And as much as Doyoung tried to not care, he didn't like her silence.

Nodding, he brought himself back to the driver's seat before reaching over to make her lay flat against the seat. "Let's go home, dove" He gently added, earning nothing but a disinterested nod from her. One of his hands remained intertwined with hers as he drove them away, further away from the eventful night and into the soothing chilly night.

End of flashback

Sighing, Y/N lay her head flat on the desk. Thinking about Doyoung made her feel weird. A weird mixture of self-pity, pain and maybe even some loneliness. He had messed her up, true. But he had also left an impression lasting enough to find a way to slither into her thoughts every once in a while. And now there was a chance that she could be seeing him again, she didn't know how to handle that information.

"Y/N, you alright?" She knew the voice well enough to not bother getting up from her sprawled-out state. He'd seen her waay too many times to care. She simply nodded against the wooden surface. "Well you certainly don't like you are," Now this, made her mad.

"Kun, if you know the answer, why'd you even bother to ask?" She grumbled, still not getting up. "I just hoped you'd be honest about your state for once in your life," The teasing smile was clearly audible in his voice. "Shut up Kun!" "So you finally look up to shoot me a death glare, that brings me great joy as your friend," Kun rolled his eyes. "Suck it up, big baby!" She snapped,

"What's going on?" Kun's voice softened, hand raising to gently massage the top of her head. "It's complicated Kun," "When is it not?" This time, Y/N broke into a chuckle, her eyes still hooded and shoulders weighed down with the weight of despair. "You can tell me,"

She knew she could. Y/N never claimed to be a social butterfly but she needed a friend or two like every normal human being on Earth. Though she wouldn't also claim to be entirely normal. But Narae was one of the very few girls who didn't envy her deep down because of the money she had in her MasterCard. Or hated her because she was conventionally beautiful.

Just like Narae, Kun was the very few men who didn't care how she was her superior. One of those people who didn't care how educated or how powerful she was. That's why she trusted him. She liked him because he treated her for what she was. A human being who simply had something to prove. He was a friend, who loved to tease her and also was always ready with a listening ear and advice.

"Kun, at times when you don't know what to do;" She started, her voice still muffled by the wood. "...do you listen to your heart or do you listen to your mind?"

"Is it a matter of the heart or the matter of the head?" Kun rebutted, his tone balanced. "Matters of the heart," She admitted, her voice small, despite her face now lying sideways. "Then I'd listen to the heart," He said. "I know many people would say that it's a stupid decision to think that way. But just like I won't understand your worries as you would, your mind won't understand the troubles of your heart like your heart would."

He saw things soo simply, soo accurately that it made things a lot clearer for Y/N. "And while I admit the heart does tend to take some dumb decisions, the head is too safe. And as much as you've let me in your love life," Kun paused to smile down at her. "The matters of your heart cannot be fixed with the safe approach the brain has,"

"Why are you here wasting your talent away when you easily could've made all the psychology and literature professors eat dirt with your lectures alone!" Kun burst out laughing, definitely flattered by her comments. He knew for a fact Y/N didn't bullshit. Whatever she said was the vocalisation of her thoughts.

"Coming from you, Boss," He hopped off the mahogany desk he was sitting on and walked for the door. "I might as well consider that," "Hey now don't make me lose my best employee!" Y/N yelled back, spinning in her swivel chair, feeling much lighter than before.

It's true when they said that talking to someone else about your worries lessens their burden. Y/N, while still conflicted, had a clearer path in front of her. She knew which part of her she ought to listen to. Now which part she would ultimately end up choosing; only time would tell.

"Where are you? Where are you?" Zooming through the aisles of the department store, her eyes scanned the rows of sweet treats and snacks for her favourite brand of sour strings. Not that she minded chewing on her hoodie strings, she needed some taste once in a while. "Found you!" She grabbed two packets and dumped them in her basket. "That will be all," She offered the young girl on the counter as she placed her basket for check out.

As the items were being checked out, she let her eyes wander, scanning the neatly arranged arrays of energy drinks, pills and frozen goods beside the counter. The hard packet came into her sight rather abruptly, since she hadn't noticed it all this time. A sigh escaped her lips as Jaeyun reached forward and picked the pack in her hands. And relished the feeling it brought.

The nostalgia, the familiarity, the unfamiliarity and of course, those memories. Always those darn memories!

Flashback

"You know you don't have to do this, right?" His voice came out rather muffled since his lips were now occupied with holding the white stick in between them. His eyes scrutinized her in front of him, her fingers hovering over the pack that contained several other sticks.

"I know I don't," She shrugged, "But I'd like to try one. I can always throw it away if I don't like it." "And waste my cigarettes on you? Yeah no thanks, love." His reply made her pout.

"Oh come on Doie! Just one, please! I swear I won't waste it!" She pleaded, her hands clasped around his. "Okay! Okay, jeez!" Doyoung scoffed, placing a thin cancer stick on her hand. "And how many times do I have to tell you to not call me that?" He snapped, rather sharply whilst lighting the stick between his lips. God, he looked so fucking gorgeous when he did that! Enough to make her ignore the pang of hurt that slammed itself against her already bruised heart.

"Are you going to light it or what?" He asked, snapping her out of her reverie. "Can't you just light it for me?" She asked, lightly offering. She hoped he would take it as a joke and just toss the lighter her way. If he snapped again, Y/N didn't know if she would be able to resist the urge to stomp the cigarette down her foot and walk away. Once in for all,

These days, she wanted to do that. She wanted to suffer the pain of being away from him. Instead of suffering from the constant heartbreaks, he gifted her with.

Surprising her, Doyoung simply puffed out smoke before saying, "Come here," Placing the white stick between her lips, Y/N stood in front of him, their shoes touching. Doyoung gave her one of those famous smirks of his, before leaning down and making the tips of their cigarettes touch. And Y/N's heart almost burst!

He was so close and even though he was closer than that, she felt like she was seeing the most intimate form of Doyoung right now. His hooded eyes, the strands of parted black hair falling over and covering bits of his forehead, his luscious lips enclosed around the cigarette. He smelled like nicotine, rich leather and musk. Must be his favourite le Labo perfume that he seemed to never get tired of.

He was a beautiful man, no doubt. And despite that, it hurts soo much to want to be with him. Why did he have to be the way he did? "There, all done, my dove." He smiled, and for a few seconds, she saw the child behind his calculated and alluring eyes. And yet again, it was making her fall deeper than she already was. She looked away, inhaling the nicotine.

And then broke into fits of coughs soon after. Doyoung simply chuckled, watching Y/N as she dry heaved. "What sort of idiot invented this!" She cast a vicious look at the lit cigarette, her eyes watering. "Jesus Christ, I feel like I swallowed ash! Fuck!" She gagged, spitting on the sidewalk.

"You wanna stop, love?" Doyoung asked, his smile long gone now. "No, but maybe take a second," Y/N sighed, her eyes watering.

Soon enough, she'd gotten through her first cigarette. She didn't know if she should be proud of herself. "That's enough for a day! Come on! You're swaying already!" Doyoung flicked his cigarette away and took off his jacket, wrapping it around Y/N's comparatively small body and leading her to the car. Halfway through, her knees gave away, making the girl almost surface.

"Fuck, Y/N! Don't faint!" Doyoung urgently hissed, haphazardly supporting her body but too late, she was limp. "Oh for fuck's sake!" The older boy sighed, now picking the girl up, bridal style, still wrapped in his jacket. It amazed her, how small she was compared to him. How delicate and innocent she was.

"Doie..." She sleepily drawled, her hair falling over her face. Doyoung chuckled softly before answering, "What love?" "Thanks for the cigarette," He had to snort, at how freaking adorable she sounded. "Hmm, did you enjoy it?" He asked, holding her tighter against his body. Y/N nodded against his chest before answering, "It reminded me of you," And after that, she was completely gone!

As he placed her inside his convertible and drove her back home, he couldn't help but think if she meant it. About the cigarette reminding her of him. Because Doyoung knows how those feel like. After the initial buzz of adrenaline and excitement, it drained you down. It made you feel tired and kept you coming back for more.

End of flashback

"Should I add it to the total, ma'am?" Y/N snapped out of her thoughts at the girl's question. "Yeah?" She turned to look at her. "Oh no! I was just..." She placed the pack of cigarettes back in its place. "I honestly don't know why I picked them up," She smiled. "I was wondering the same," The girl added, handing her the plastic bag of her shopping. "Excuse me ma'am but you don't look like the type to smoke," She broke out into a small chuckle at the girls' words before winking. "You'd be surprised,"

Y/N was addicted to them. Until of course, Doyoung walked out of her life. Those white sticks reminded her of him. So she forced herself to give it up. Just like everything she gave up everything that reminded her of him. He left with the same callousness as he came in and while she was heartbroken, she was also glad.

How long was she going to torture herself? How long was she going to run into those same circles? Wasn't it easier that he left as much as it hurt to be the girl who was left behind?

Destiny works in wonderful ways really. Y/N had run from the thought of Doyoung for the past 6 years. Yet, he ruled a part of her. He was still messing her up despite not having shown his face to her since the day he left her for someone else. She chuckled, bringing her phone out; finally ready to text Narae back.

'I hope you consider coming, Y/N. I really would love for you to be here in my big day.'

'I'll come Rae, see you soon.'

Wrapping the jacket, his jacket, tighter around her small frame, Y/N took yet another sip of her whiskey. What were the odds? After running for 6 darn years, she was going to take the risk of running into him again. And that too, on the wedding day of the girl he left her for. To his best friend.

She knew how stupid the decision was. How much it could hurt her, all over again. But then again, if Y/N was going to make a stupid decision for someone, wouldn't it make sense for it to be Doyoung? If she was going to risk going through all of that pain again; who else would it be except for Doyoung?

#nct #neo culture technology #nct doyoung #kim doyoung #toxic love #toxic relationship #past love #doyoung drabbles #doyoung angst #nct angst #back to you

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