Wings Spread And Broken Flyin’ To Eternity But I Can’t Help Falling With You, Even Falling Is Beautiful

FIGHT CLUB

Johnny Seo X Y/N X Yuta Nakamoto

Just a piece of advice!! This fanfic probably won't make any sense unless you've seen the 1999 movie, Fight Club written by David Fincher. This revolves around the storyline for said movie and previous knowledge of it needs to be present for it to make sense! In that case, read on! :) 💜💜

⚠️ Warnings: swearing, mentions of gore, mentions of nsfw, talk of weapons and violence as well as drugs⚠️

People were always asking me, did I know Johnny Seo?

"We won't really die, we'll be immortal."

"You're thinking of vampires."

"oh-...ra..aH-...oo"

With a gun barrel between your teeth, you only speak in vowels.

With my tongue, I can feel the silencer holes drilled into the barrel of the gun. Most of the noise a gunshot makes is expanding gases. I totally forgot about Johnny's whole murder-suicide thing for a second and I wondered how clean the gun barrel was.

Johnny checked his watch. "Three minutes."

The building we're standing in won't be here in three minutes. You take a 98-percent concentration of fuming nitric acid and add three times as much sulfuric in a bathtub full of ice. Then, glycerin drop-by-drop. I know this because Johnny knows this.

The demolitions committee of Project Mayhem wrapped the foundation columns of this building with blasting gelatin. The primary charge will blow the base charge, and this spot Johnny and I are standing on will be a point in the sky.

"This is our world now. Two minutes."

Two minutes to go and I'm wondering how I got here.

...

Part One:

"I want you to hit me." Johnny said, fixing his posture and squaring up to Yuta trying to get a better position for a fight. They were outside of Joon's on a cold night after Yuta lost his apartment and his job. Both of which exploded in his face. His apartment a bit too literally. He wondered if any of his Ikea furniture survived the blast.

"I- What?" Yuta was confused now. First, Johnny had stolen a bunch of ketchup packets from the inside of the restaurant, stuffed them in his pockets, and walked out with a cigarette dangling between his teeth. Now, he was asking Yuta to knee him in the gut or swat him on the nose.

"You heard me. I know you want to."

Truth is, Yuta did want to hit him. And to be fair, Johnny deserved it. I mean, the guy blew up his apartment with homemade dynamite for Christ's sake.

Yuta reeled his arm back and hit Johnny the best he could. Johnny looked taken aback as he stumbled to regain his footing. Through a bloody nose and determined eyes he replied, "My turn."

And thus, Fight Club commenced.

...

"The rules of Fight Club are as follows:

One, you do not talk about Fight Club.

Two, you DO NOT talk about Fight Club.

Three, someone yells stop, goes limp, taps out, the fight is over.

Four, only two guys to a fight.

Five, one fight at a time.

Six, no shirts, no shoes.

Seven, fights will go on for as long as they have to.

Eight, if this is your first night at Fight Club, you have to fight."

Johnny walked around the circle of men who had gathered before him as he explained the rules of the club; a club which was held in Joon's basement- a restaurant with very few customers. Originally, Fight Club had been something between Johnny and Yuta, something small that would pass the time when they wanted to relieve some stress. It was merely playtime for the two and now it had branched into what it was today.

Yuta continued wrapping his hands in gauze from his last fight. Taeil from one of his previous support groups beat him nasty; blood dripping from the top of the Japanese boy's head as well as a giant cut along the underside of his wrist. It wasn't anything unusual, he had won of course, sending Taeil straight for the floor and knocking out a couple of his teeth. It wasn't the wound that stung, no. It was the jealousy that bubbled in his chest and made way for his throat. Fight Club was never supposed to be this. It should've been just him and Johnny.

"Man. I see in Fight Club the strongest and smartest men who've ever lived. I see all this potential, and I see squandering. Goddamn it, an entire generation pumping gas, waiting tables; slaves with white collars. Advertising has us chasing cars and clothes, working jobs we hate so we can buy shit we don't need. We're the middle children of history, man. No purpose, or place. We have no Great War. No Great Depression. Our Great War's a spiritual war...our great depression is our lives. We've all been raised on television to believe that one day we'd all be millionaires and movie gods and rockstars. But we won't. And we're slowly learning that fact. And we're very very pissed off."

Johnny looked at each man once and then swiveled around and looked at them again. He held eye contact with each and every person so that his words were reaching them on every level possible. He wanted them to feel. To feel the pain of the unforgiving world and the passion for Fight Club. He wanted everyone to praise his words like the Bible and for them to go home later that night with a sense of enlightenment. He wanted Fight Club to be burned into the brains and the skin of these men.

But I am Jack's inflamed sense of rejection.

Yuta barred his teeth from where he was sitting. Johnny had a way with words. Even if he was pissed from their earlier conversation with you in the house, he wasn't showing it. Johnny had stripped him of anger towards himself and provided him with anger towards the movement. Yuta was going to make the best of this club- watching humanity's downfall while he sat from his throne looking out towards everyone's anguish. That was where he belonged, Yuta thought. Not in some corporate office building fetching papers for his boss.

He thought back to his life before Johnny. How he would work his 5-9 job in some shitty little office building with shitty little people with shitty little egos. He remembered what a horrible insomniac he was, sleeping a total of one hour a night- if he was lucky. He remembered going to his support groups just to feel something. To cry on the shoulders of others who were going through unimaginable pain as he cried from his position of perfect health. It was all an effort to sleep at night until he realized that he was spending his days in pain and inflicting pain on others. And he was addicted to it.

You had walked into one of his regular support groups on a Saturday; one of the founders of said group griping about the fact he'd lost his balls to testicular cancer and sobbing up on the rickety podium. You had caught his eye that day- and not just because you were a woman walking into a support group for men with non-functional penises. It was because of the first words to come out of your mouth:

"This is cancer, right?"

You were his downfall. You ruined everything at first. Because you had shown up to his daily pain sessions, he was no longer the black sheep of the group- the only one who was healthy out of a room of dying people. Sure, you were dying, but that was because of the shitty drugs you put into your body and the cigarette that was always hanging out of your mouth. But Yuta realized that his feelings of hatred were actually ones of intense sexual desire.

He'd fucked you later that night anyways.

Or at least, he dreamt about it.

"Who's first?" Johnny asked to no one in particular, awaiting a response from one of the eager men around. This snapped Yuta out of his daze as he looked down at his hands. The gauze was wrapped too tight (probably a direct result of his previous thoughts) and the blood was seeping through the makeshift bandage. Oh well, at least he'd shown Taeil who's club it really was.

The first to agree on fighting was a scrawny looking boy with red and white hair. An odd color combination, but Yuta guessed it framed his face nicely. He had a bunch of piercings along his ear and a determined look on his face. A slight grin showed his confidence as the boy took his shirt off and loosened up his belt.

On the other side of the "ring," there was another boy that radiated an equal amount of confidence but looked a bit skeptical as his eyes landed on the others around the dank basement. He too, removed pieces of his clothing and slicked his blonde hair back from his face.

"Alright, first victims are Taeyong and Hendery. Knock yourselves out.....literally."

Johnny stepped away from them as they collided with one another, blood already dripping from the eyebrow piercing on Hendery's face and a crack coming from Taeyong's finger. Despite this, the boys looked more fiery than ever before as they tackled one another to the ground, ripping out each other's hair and punching each other wherever they could reach. A quick sharp kick to Hendery's groin left him falling to the ground where the other boy found his footing and beat him to a pulp. Not the first fight that ended up in two broken noses, but definitely the first fight to bring this many people together.

And with Taeyong's win, Yuta followed Johnny back home to the abandoned neighborhood they stayed in.

...

Again, it was another night of Yuta lying restless as he listened to your moans coming through the wall separating him and Johnny. Once you had met Johnny all it took was a promise of a new carton of cigarettes to go up to the bedroom with him. This wasn't anything new to Yuta (who did have a crush on you, he was just too afraid to admit it) who heard it every hour of every day; he wondered if you two ever grew bored of slamming the headboard against the wall.

Yuta figured the only thing he could really do in this situation was to go downstairs to the rotting kitchen and make himself a sandwich out of condiments stolen from Joon's and a couple leftover banana peppers from the night before. He pulled his robe over his shoulders and made his way down the decaying hardwood stairs of the mildewed house, making sure not to step on the soggiest part of the floor.

It was cold, but it felt nice after sweating in his blanket just a few minutes before. He opened the door to the fridge and found the pickles as well as the condiments, but his eyes stopped when he spotted some of Johnny's "lab equipment" which consisted of homemade explosives and torture mechanisms. Why they were in the fridge, Yuta didn't know, but he presumed Johnny had a reason. Just as long as he didn't find any Lye in his sandwich.

After making the shittiest thing Yuta had ever eaten in his life (which is saying a lot because he's accidentally eaten literal shit) he made his way upstairs, past the banister and the bathroom with the lonesome bathtub. He was just about to pass Johnny's room when he realized that it had been quiet. For a minute and a half.

Slowly, he opened the door and BANG Johnny walked straight into him wearing nothing but a robe.

"The fuck you doing man? Hey- is that the ketchup I stole from Joon's?"

"Ah shit! Uh I was just making a sandwich is all," he stammered out as he just about dropped the plate. He wasn't going to admit to Johnny that he was looking to see what had gone on with their sexcapade since he'd had a pleasant couple of seconds to himself for the first time since your and Johnny's introduction.

"Hey! I found the cigarettes."

You were high off your ass as you rolled around in Johnny's horribly stained bedsheets, waiting for whatever the holdup was at the door. "Y'all want some?"

"No thanks, Sylvia Plath."

...

Day two of Fight Club commenced in Joon's basement on a spectacularly cold Thursday, when Yuta was supposed to be at work. Instead, he was sitting on one of the empty barrels by the back of the room, watching everything happen before him. Fight Club wasn't just Fight Club anymore. This pain was all normal. It was expected. It wasn't anything different or new like the support groups Yuta had found solace in when he was an insomniac. He could feel the night of restlessness before him.

"Alright men, get your shit together. Today we have someone new joining our group. And, as the rules state, if it's your first night at Fight Club, you have to fight."

Johnny paced the circle of men, gripping onto the loops of his belt to make him look like more of the leader and less of a member. His shoulder length black hair was tied into a ponytail and his muscles were on full display; curtesy of his white slim-fit tee. Yuta would have to agree with you on one thing- Johnny was sexy as fuck. He was a confident bastard, but he understood why you liked someone like him. He was more than Yuta ever could be.

"On one side we have Jaehyun, an undefeated member of our group- not counting me of course."

This granted a couple of chuckles from the back as Yuta waited in anticipation for the newest member to be announced.

"Welcome, Xiaojun. Hope you find happiness getting your brains knocked out in a basement this small."

And standing before Yuta was Xiaojun, a former applicant of the testicular cancer support group, someone whom he had cried on as he wistfully remembered the days before meeting Johnny on a plane (That was a lot to cover into one fanfiction, but if you've seen the movie you'd know what I'm talking about). The days where pain wasn't measured by the amount of people feeling it, and instead was something to pass the time.

The blonde haired boy walked up to Jaehyun and smiled. It wasn't a 'Oh it's so nice to be here I can't wait to fight!' type smile. No, this smile was nothing more than pure malice.

Xiaojun was taking Jaehyun down. Yuta knew it for fact.

"Alright, have at it."

With Johnny's approval, Jaehyun launched for the boy, one arm balled into a fist and the other ready to strike a blow to the stomach. However, Xiaojun cut right across his ribcage and managed to dodge the blow, that shit-eating grin never once leaving his face.

"Ah fuck," Jaehyun clutched his chest as he doubled over in pain. Not allowing for the opponent to get too far though, he got back up on his feet and positioned himself so that he would be ready for another punch.

Jaehyun went in again, this time he was aiming lower to serve as an uppercut, payback for what the fast guy he went against did on his last move. He just about hit Xiaojun when Xiao ducked and rolled along the floor knocking Jaehyun from his position. Jaehyun was on the ground and was pinned there. Now all that was left was the final blow.

Yuta could hear one of the people in the circle mumble "fatality" in reference to Mortal Kombat as Xiaojun beat the shit out of this guy. Blood was going everywhere, nose was most definitely broken, his seemingly perfect face was now most definitely bruised. Hell, this guy would be lucky to even have a few teeth left from what Yuta could gather as he was positioned farther outside of the circle.

"Hey. HEY! RULE THREE BITCHASS!" Johnny's voice brought everyone back down to earth as they realized 'holy shit, Jaehyun is on his way out,' and they scrambled to help him off the floor. Knocked unconscious and bleeding from almost every orifice (except his ass), laid Jaehyun, once a fearless champion amongst the crowd now a bird with clipped wings.

I am Jack's complete lack of surprise.

Yuta caught a glimpse of Xiaojun, seemingly in perfect condition and a clam expression on his face. His eyes were the same though, the same as Johnny's. He was definitely a force to be reckoned with.

...

You couldn't say you were surprised in the least amount with Johnny's sudden outburst. All you had done was talk to him about his selfish ways; and he most definitely was being selfish- one minute he'd be sweet talking you and explaining how you mean the world to him, to changing every topic you brought up and acting like a cocky arrogant asshole. You figured it had something to do with his new "support group" and that Fight Club had left him bipolar. Even the nights you spent fucking him to no end had no resolve on his character and you were starting to grow annoyed with his sudden change of demeanor.

You rolled out of Johnny's bed and made way for the kitchen downstairs. At least most of the men were at Joon's, so you have the house to yourself and Johnny. That's how it usually was anyways. And that's when it hit you: the dress you'd bought a while ago was still upstairs! Maybe you could use it to sway Johnny into a better mood?

Running back to Johnny's room, you slipped on the semi-pink, alcohol stained wedding dress (or what was left of it) over your body frame and took a look in the mirror.

"Huh, not bad."

You had bought the dress because you liked it, of course, not because you originally had the intentions you do now. You didn't usually give a fuck when it came to the opinions of men, so why did his matter so much to you? You frizzled up your hair and rain your hands through the mess and popped an Adderall in your mouth. Hey, you needed something to get by for the day.

You found yourself downstairs, another cigarette in your mouth and a jacket around the exposed sections of your collarbone. Your feet still bare, you entered the dining room that was full of "Johnny's experiments" and you twirled a bit upon finding Johnny sitting in the chair by the table.

"Well," you said, "Do you like it?"

"What am I looking at?"

"The dress, idiot. Do you like the dress?"

He sat there in confusion for minute before he responded with a simple "It's okay."

Why does he always do this? You wondered. He would show you a sweet and loving side to him and then he'd act all coy and nonchalant as if nothing you said had any impact on him. Did he pretend to love you just to fuck you? Did he care about you just so he could have his way with you in bed?

"I got it for a dollar. Imagine- someone bought this dress with the intention that it would be worn on the most important day of their lives. And now, I'm wearing it as business casual."

He ignored you again, sipping on that blasted cup of coffee and looking through ads in the news. His hair was pushed back from his eyes and his brows were furrowed. He had no interest in anything you said.

"Goodbye," you said, and walked out.

"Don't let the door hit you on the way out."

Fuck him

...

(Part Two coming soon!!!!)

TAEMIN  ✦  SEXUALITY  ✦  The 1st Stage Nippon Budokan

why dont you read/watch something that forces you to confront the fact that you are capable of feeling empathy for a person who has done deeply cruel or evil things. And maybe you’ll calm down

The amount of people I've met that said this was Moonjo's best line...

The Sun

Pairing: Johnny Seo x reader

⚠️ Warnings: Extreme amounts of fluff, Johnny's horrible dad jokes ⚠️

(This is just a little drabble, nothing serious I saw the gif and I decided to create a little story to go along with it)

He had recommended a hiking trip. A hiking trip. You hate hiking and he knew it so why would he drag you out here at the ass-crack of dawn so you guys could spend hours suffering in the sun's heat; climbing a small mountain so that you could see the water from above. You were trying your best not to complain, but this was way out of your comfort zone. You don't do well with heat and you have a tendency to get angered easily when temperatures reach above 75°. Johnny knew this, of course, so why would he insist on taking you here?

You gathered your climbing gear and put your boots on, thank goodness you still had the ones your friend Haechan gave you tucked away in your closet. He knew Johnny was an avid hiker, someone who relished in the sun and loved long, strenuous walks to see the world from a different perspective. Johnny was everything that you weren't, but he still managed to accept you as one of his closest friends. You had met him through Mark, your co-worker at the jeweler's place downtown, over a couple milkshakes and Scott Pilgrim at his apartment. It was then that you saw everything Johnny Suh had to offer to the world and fell in love with him.

He had caught your gaze in that little apartment when he sat across from you on the couch. It was your favorite scene in the movie (when Todd comes out as a Level 7 vegan) and he had conveniently placed two straws up his nose and pretended he was a walrus. Usually, you would've thought he was being childish but he was just so gosh darn cute that you couldn't help the smile that broke out on your face. He considered his act a triumph, and continued to exclaim just how amazing he was for the rest of the night for getting you to smile over his walrus joke. That night for you was spent gawking over Johnny from your end of the couch, Mark in the middle with his gaze fixed on the television, seemingly unaware of your newfound infatuation. You wanted to observe him for as long as you could and try to understand how he was able to capture your gaze so easily. He had caught you a few times but you proceeded to shy away and catch glimpses of the movie every now and then in hopes he wouldn't notice just how long you had been staring at him. Little did you know, he was doing the same.

"Just a little further, (Y/N). I can see the peak of the hill from here!" Johnny called to you from above, holding onto the rope that connected the two of you and pulling you up to the next platform. By this point, you had been climbing for over a half hour, sweat was clinging to your shirt and your feet felt as though they had blisters permanently etched into your skin. You let out a sigh of relief as you gained your balance and climbed the last hurdle to get to where Johnny was. You managed not to complain (you didn't want Johnny to think you were lame) as you hoisted yourself up, looking at the view before you.

Immediately, you understood why he was so adamant about climbing. The view was beautiful, it felt as though you were on top of the world and you could reach out for the sky and touch it if you tried. The mountain sloped downward into a long, winding river that stretched out into the horizon of the sun, trees pointed towards the fixed point in the sky. You let out a breath of awe and turned to look at the man next to you.

And he was more beautiful than the view.

Everything about him was breathtaking, the way he smiled at you without a care in the world and the way his hair flopped around with the slight breeze. The way his shoulders relaxed and he let out his arms and tilted his head towards the sky, his mouth open catching invisible snowflakes. You laughed with him.

Just then he grabbed you from behind, pulling you into a tight hug. "Thank you for climbing with me, I know you really hate it." He booped you on the nose (His form of affection as you learned throughout the years of knowing him) and he smiled so hard that his lips almost reached his eyes.

You sat there for a moment, his hands holding yours and staring at each other. You were about to pull away until he leaned down and placed his lips on yours. Surprised, you leaned into the touch and kissed him back, the adrenaline coursing through your veins from being up so high and then from Johnny expressing his feelings for you.

Once you let go for a breath of air, he smiled again, something that you could get used to seeing for the rest of time.

He leaned in and whispered "You rock."

Pun intended

Hello!!! Can you please write a Seo Moonjo fic, where he becomes possessive/obsessed with Jongwoo's gf or with a female who works with him?

Overcompensate

Absolutely lovely! Here's a bit of a drabble for you!

Pairing: Seo Moon-Jo X Reader

Warnings: mentions of gore & possessiveness, Moon-Jo shows very yandere tendencies, cannibalism allegories

Moon-jo was a simple man.

Not necessarily in theory, but in practice. He knew what it was he aspired to obtain in his lifetime and with the amount of work and dedication he put into those aspirations, it makes sense that he would achieve them. Simple.

But as to what he wanted and the lengths he would go to, stopping at nothing...that was a little more complicated.

To his surprise, he had found himself in a situation where the goal wasn't in relation to dentistry or murder. He was having a bit of an issue sorting out just exactly why the new tenant of Eden Residence was so captivating, so enthralling to him. What was it about the boy who lived next door that led Moon-Jo to believing that his existence was some sort of spiritual awakening he would have to come to discover? Why was he suddenly so fascinated in the idea of pulling back his brain and picking out all of his thoughts, consuming them in their entirety until there was nothing left of poor Jongwoo but a vessel of the human being he once was? It was Kafka-esque, a metamorphosis of his character; to watch him succumb to the ravaging animalistic qualities that Moon-Jo believed all humans to possess. It was strange and it was beautiful.

And oh, was it something Moon-Jo wanted.

So he put in the work. Day after day he spent trying to get under Jongwoo's flesh, tearing open another layer piece by piece to truly understand his newfound obsession. But with every step closer to his goal he got, the more confused he became. There was nothing he was learning that he had hoped for. Jongwoo was buckling under the weight of his neighbor's madness, yes. But he wasn't the right image of Moon-Jo's work. This frustrated him to no end.

He still remembers when everything finally clicked into place. The night had just fallen and the stars crept up in the sky, illuminating the long path to the Residence. Although the lights were dim, one could still make out the small cats darting back and forth as they played with one another in the underbrush. The air was crisp and still with no wind, a perfect temperature to end an outrageously hot summer day. Moon-Jo awaited on the rooftop with two beers, as he usually did, watching the path below for his Jongwoo to arrive back home with his furrowed expression of displeasure and overly large backpack slung over his shoulders from an excruciatingly long day at the office. He would be lucky to convince Jongwoo up to the roof where he sat and even luckier if he could manage to get him to drink his beer. He knew Jongwoo was onto him and his...stranger tendencies, but he would receive the fruits of his labor. He always did.

The beer can was cold under his grasp, the condensation slipping from his fingertips and falling beneath him as the drops pattered onto the cracked concrete. He was starting to grow slightly warm, however, he wasn't sure if it was because of the weather or the growing anticipation he felt as he awaited the boy's arrival. His eyes didn't leave the road once.

As he looked beneath him towards the winding street, he finally saw his neighbor trudging up the path, same expression on his face Moon-Jo had expected him to be wearing. But, to his surprise, walking beside the man he'd so desperately tried his best to court 24/7 was quite possibly the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen in his life.

It shocked him-almost-his hand immediately dropping the beer he was holding as he lost his composure for the first time in many years. It was sudden, as though he'd been impaled by sword, piercing through his lungs and stopping his breath as his heart skipped a beat. He had never been so hungry, so devout for human meat. He didn't want to cannibalize you, no. But he so desperately wanted to consume you and your being which is almost the same thing...right? He knew what Jongwoo had meant to him now, it was almost so clear in the way it presented itself; Jongwoo was never meant to be the product of his manipulation. It had always had to have been you.

Your eyes looked up towards Eden, missing the strange man on the roof entirely. Moon-Jo found himself entranced by them, watching the way they shone under the stars and the soft light from the windows of the Residence. They were like Bosch's paintings of the divine, absolutely encapsulating the beauty of the gods. Your hair fell slightly past your shoulders and framed a face he could only assume belonged to heavens itself. Your body swayed with the movement of your feet as you followed your boyfriend's suit, duffel bag in hand.

Moon-Jo thought he had died and been met with the face of a deity.

On your end, the only thing you were thinking about was Jongwoo's warnings from earlier. Once he had moved to Seoul and started living in this dingy place, he had instantly been met with strange roommates whom he'd talk about often. You were worried about his dwindling sleep schedule and his overall safety, residing in a place like this on the outskirts of town. If something terrible were to happen here, you weren't even sure police would show up in this precinct. For Jongwoo's sake, however, you swallowed down your nervousness preparing to have that conversation with him later.

Collecting himself, Moon-Jo practically sprinted towards the stairs and made his way down to Mrs. Eom's desk, leaning against the dilapidated building's walls, forcing himself to contain the sparks flying through his veins. He had to keep himself together, make the most impeccable first impression and swoon you over, whoever you might be. He needed you to like him, to trust him. If he ruined his image right off the bat by voicing his true inner monologue, it would be so much harder to mold you to his image and sway you into his grasp.

"Jongwoo, are you sure this is something you want to do? We could always sleep at my place if you're as uncomfortable by this place as you say." You said, closing the heavy door behind you and setting down your duffel bag for a moment to regain your breath.

Jongwoo shrugged and picked up your things containing all your overnight clothes and whatever else you'd brought to work that day. He had just simple given you a "yeah, this is fine" before turning around to be met face-to-face with the one person he didn't want to see or have the imposition of introducing to his girlfriend at all. He had hoped he might be able to sneak you past and into his room before anyone even noticed he was there; as he usually did. He'd presumed Moon-Jo to be on the roof for his nightly drink, whenever he stayed at the residence and not in his own apartment.

Beside the wall-almost eerily so-Moon-Jo stood, ignoring Jongwoo completely. His eyes were trained on you as you gathered yourself enough to take him in, watching the man before you breathe in the very fiber of your being. He was tall and dark haired with extraordinary cheekbones. With a face card like that, you were sure he'd have had to be a model or do side-gigs of the sort. His smile was a pleasant one as it seemed inviting, but upon staring at it for a few moments, something about it felt off to you. His black button-up was loose around his collarbones and neatly tucked into his slacks. He was fairly handsome, you thought, forgetting that Jongwoo had warned you of this 'crazy neighbor' before inviting you to stay at his place to catch the train back home tomorrow.

A piercing feeling of nervousness took over your body and shocked you instantly. There was something extremely peculiar about this man and you wanted nothing to do with finding out what it was. There was something haunting about the depth of his cold, dark gaze, contrasting Jongwoo's warm and inviting one. You swore to yourself in that moment not to walk anywhere on these premises without Jongwoo for fear of running into this man alone.

However uncomfortable you may have felt, Moon-Jo was in love, if that's what you would call it. He wanted this-you, so intensely and so immediately that his entire body felt as though it were shaking with tremors. He would stop at absolutely nothing to have you, to own you. You were what he had been unknowingly waiting for his entire existence and Jongwoo had only been the key. Smiling, he shook his hand out towards yours, ignoring the complaints from your boyfriend from beside you.

"My name is Seo Moon-Jo. The pleasure is all mine."

"(Y/N)." You replied.

what i want to say: fight club is about the hurt so many men feel and the toxic masculinity that doesnt let them heal. they dont know how. they want to cry but the only time where theyre allowed to is when people think theyre on their deathbeds. so they turn all their hurt and anger and pain outwards. its about knowing that the world is fucked up but not knowing how to fix it. and instead of figuring out how to heal it they decide to destroy it and start over again. an option that seems so appealing to them, to burn it all and rise from the ashes like a strong and powerful phoenix. but none of them are learning how to build, theyre just learning how to destroy. its about the dangers of cults, how all these men who grew up with shitty fathers and ripped up and shitted on dreams see tyler who seems to be the peak of everything. hes strong hes smart hes charismatic and he seems to understand their struggles so it makes sense them to follow him and to carry out his work. it gives their lives new meaning, such is the appeal of any cult, and the leader is so persuasive that hes convinced actual real life people outside of the book and movie to believe him. to look past the satire and to want to be him. its about obsession. its about wanting. its about how modern day society and especially capitalism and consumerism is fucked up and spoiling and corrupting humanity but the way to fix it isnt by an attack as so many men want to believe. you cant just take sledgehammers to the machine without all the people already in the system suffering. these men dont care if there are casualties they want the world to be plunged into a new dark age they want a new flood so they can start it all over but thats not. the. way! it backfires and the people in project mayhem get hurt and die and their loved ones get hurt and die and the main character realizes he cant stop this and whats sown must be reaped and its about men with hurt inside them not being able to deal with it not being able to sleep or cry because of a system THEY SET UP which is now backfiring ONTO THEM and instead of reconciling with their tender side they just keep fighting and keep throwing punches and HOPE that the blood and bruises will cover all the internal turmoil so they never have to face it

what i say: fight club is actually about gay sex

HYUNJIN CALLIN FELIX STUPID KID LMAOOOO WHAT

😈😈😈😈😈😈😈

Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter —covered in blood