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scarlet789 · 1 day ago

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AS LONG AS YOU’RE WITH ME

You never got to live in the utopia you dreamed of, but as long as you were in the arms of the man you loved more than anything else in the world, nothing else mattered to you.

❧ PAIRING; wonwoo x reader

❧ GENRE; angst

❧ TAGS/WARNINGS; dystopian, end of the world, established relationship, character deaths, a lot of crying, HEAVY angst, lowkey very cliché

❧ WORDCOUNT; 7.4k

𐚁₊⊹

You lived in a world that was on the brink of collapse, with overpopulation turning into a full-fledged global crisis. The sheer number of people exceeded the ability of the planet to sustain them. Food shortages plagued every corner of the world that left millions to suffer the slow and agonising pain of hunger.

Livestock declined, crops fell short of demand, and the previously plentiful resources that people took for granted were withering at an alarming pace. The constant battle for survival turned everyday life into a nightmare for which no one was prepared for.

People lined up for hours in hopes of receiving scraps of food that could barely last them a day. Entire families would go to bed with empty stomachs, not being sure if they would wake up the next morning.

As resources depleted, humanity's social structure broke along with it. Governments collapsed under the weight of the crisis because they were unable to manage the chaos. Law and order breached across numerous regions, and acts of desperation became prevalent. Looting, violence, and corruption spread like wildfire as people fought for any chance of survival.

Communities that once thrived with hope were now riddled with fear and distrust. Meanwhile, the environment suffered the consequences of humans’ boundless consumption. Forests disappeared, rivers dried up, and pollution poisoned the air and water. The planet, that was pushed to its limits, began to turn against the people within it.

Then came the diseases — a wave of new, deadly pandemics unlike anything humanity ever faced. These mysterious illnesses spread faster than anyone could comprehend. The diseases spared no one, targeting the vulnerable and the strong alike. Babies succumbed to these illnesses at birth, while the elderly populations were wiped out in months.

There were heated debates over whether the rapid decline in population was an irreversible tragedy or a grim mercy. Some saw the decline as a ray of hope that the planet may recover and its destroyed resources could be restored. Others saw the declining numbers as a sign of the final collapse and the beginning of the extinction of the human race.

People lived in continual fear — not just of death, but of losing those they held dear. There was nothing left to do but wait in as the inevitable approached. The end was near — whether in years, months, or days, no one could say. And when it came, humanity would vanish, leaving only echoes of what once was.

Having been abandoned at birth and without knowing who your parents were or why they abandoned you, you were alone in a world that provided no comfort. You grew up without a family's warmth, without anybody to guide or support you.

Having no one to lose might’ve seemed like an advantage in a dying world, but it left you rather hollow and aching for connection even as you fought every day to survive.

Then, a few years ago, everything changed. You met him — the one person who brought light into your dark existence. He wasn’t just someone you loved; he became your entire world.

━━━━━━━━━━

▍10 OCTOBER 2047

Hoisting the last bag into the back of the pickup car, Wonwoo paused and brushed a hand over his forehead to wipe away the sweat from the afternoon sun.

“Are you ready?” he turned to you, sounding exhausted.

“Yes,” you replied, but your tone was flat and lacked any trace of energy.

Leaving the house where you lived for so many years, you felt a wave of sadness as the memories came flooding in. Even though you made an effort to hide what you were feeling, Wonwoo could see how your shoulders slumped under the weight of everything you were about to leave behind.

His eyes followed your every move. For as long as he could remember, he was always attentive to your moods, and today was no different. Noticing your dull tone and the way you avoided his gaze, his worry deepened.

“Hey,” he murmured gently, walking over to you and placed his hands on your shoulders. His fingers tilted your chin upward so your eyes met his.

“What’s wrong baby?” he asked softly, his voice deep yet tender, as though he feared pushing too hard.

You shook your head, your eyes darting away. “Nothing. Let’s just go already,” you muttered, shrugging off his touch and stepping past him, eager to escape the conversation. But Wonwoo wasn’t one to give up easily.

In one quick motion, he reached for your wrist. His grip was firm but not it wasn’t forceful. He pulled you back towards him, and you found yourself standing close, almost pressed against his chest.

“I can tell something is bothering you,” he said. He was insistent but kept his voice calm. “And you know you can talk to me about it, babe.”

Your lips quivered a little as you looked for words that failed to come out, and your eyes fell to the ground. Wonwoo’s thumb traced light circles on the back of your hand as he waited patiently.

“Come on,” he said after a moment, his tone tinged with vulnerability. “Do you not trust me?”

The question broke something inside you. Without a word, you closed the gap between you and wrapped your arms tightly around his torso. He froze for a moment before pulling you in even closer, resting his chin on the top of your head.

You hid your face into your husband’s chest as you slowly broke down into tears. His shirt began to soak with your tears as you cried, and Wonwoo felt every shudder, every sob that escaped you.

It was as if his heart was tearing apart. In all the years he had known you, there was nothing — absolutely nothing — that pained him more than seeing you cry.

“Tell me what’s bothering you princess,” he murmured tenderly. His muscular arms tightened around your trembling frame as he held you like you might break into pieces if he let go.

“I’m just tired,” you choked out, your voice muffled against his chest. “Tired of everything that’s going on. Why can’t we just live in peace?”

Each syllable that came out in between your sobs were harsh and loaded with frustration. You pulled back just enough to look at him while tears rolled down your cheeks.

Your red-rimmed eyes pleaded with him, though you weren’t sure for what exactly — answers? Reassurance? A magic fix to the chaos that your lives had become?

Wonwoo’s eyes grew softer, with both strength and sorrow. He cradled your face lovingly, wiping away your tears with his thumbs as they continued to fall.

“I know it’s hard, baby” he said, trying to sound steady. “I know you’re exhausted, and I hate that we’re going through this. I hate seeing you like this.”

You nodded, feeling another fresh wave of tears coming as you hugged him tighter. “I just want things to be normal again,” you said through a broken whisper. “I want to live the life we dreamed of Woo. I want to stop running.”

“I’m sorry it has to be this way,” he said and leaned down to press a kiss to the crown of your head.

“But I promise, everything will be okay soon. Let’s just hold on to that little hope we have left, okay? Just for a little while longer” it hurt his chest to say that because he himself wasn’t sure, but it was all he could offer right now.

You nodded against him, and his steady heartbeat soothed your own as you closed your eyes.

And after comforting you, Wonwoo gently guided you into the passenger seat of the pickup car. He gave your hand a reassuring squeeze before circling around to the driver’s side.

With the bags loaded in the back and a map marked with destinations long abandoned by hope, the two of you began yet another long drive. This time to the other side of the country.

The miles blurred together as the car drove along the deserted roads. You lost count of how many times you and Wonwoo packed up your belongings and moved, hopping from one unfamiliar place to another.

You made an effort to keep track at first, with each stop feeling like a checkpoint on an unending journey. But after a while, days blended together and it seemed pointless to keep count. You had no choice but to keep going.

Resources had become limited, and what little money you and Wonwoo had saved were used up buying necessities.

Hotels, motels, and even cheap temporary rentals were now out of reach. Nowadays, you would both spend your nights in the cramped cab of the car or under the open sky, where you’d cling to each other for warmth.

The dreadful state of the country wasn’t always this dire. Wonwoo used to work at a warehouse, and while it wasn’t much, it was enough to get by.

But then everything fell apart. The warehouse shut down without warning, leaving him and dozens of others jobless. No severance, no notice — just a locked gate and a sign that read, “Closed Until Further Notice.”

You never managed to secure a stable job yourself. Odd tasks and temporary opportunities provided you with a few extra cash, but even those dried up as the economy crumbled.

Poverty swept through the country like an unstoppable tide. Families were displaced, children went hungry, and hospitals overflowed with the sick. Every town you passed through had the same haunting marks: abandoned homes, skeletal figures searching for food, and graves dug too shallow.

“We’ll figure something out” you heard your husband say as his free hand gripped yours.

The government did nothing. In the end, they only acted in their own interest, saving themselves while abandoning everyone else. Resources were hoarded, secret bunkers were stocked, and those in power simply disappeared, leaving the rest to fend for themselves.

They didn’t care whether their citizens survived or died, as long as they had everything they needed to sustain their privileged lives. For everyone else, survival became a matter of sheer will and ingenuity. Compassion became a luxury which no one could afford.

With exhaustion bearing down on you, you sank back against the seat, “I’m hungry” you muttered almost in a whisper.

“There’s something in the grey bag. Eat it,” Wonwoo calmly replied while keeping his eyes fixed on the darkened road ahead. The strain he was under was evident from the tight hold his hands had on the wheel and the tension in his knuckles.

Reluctantly, you reached into the back seat, fumbling around until your hand found the grey bag. Pulling it into your lap, you opened it, only to be greeted by the sight of a single plastic bag containing a butter and ham sandwich and a slightly bruised banana.

It wasn’t much, but it was all there was. The hunger was making your stomach ache, and you couldn’t hide the disappointment in your tone as you looked at the bag on your lap.

“Is this all?” you asked.

Wonwoo glanced at you briefly, and his expression softened into a look of quiet apology. “I’m sorry,” he said. “But I’m sure we’ll be able to buy something when we get to the shelter.”

His attempt at reassurance didn’t help much, but you nodded anyway, knowing there was no point in complaining. Food was scarce, and you were lucky to have anything at all.

The silence stretched between you as you unwrapped the sandwich, and the crinkle of the plastic sounded unnaturally loud in the confined space of the car.

Outside, the sun had already dipped below the horizon, leaving the world covered in shadows. The road ahead appeared to go on forever into the darkness, and the dim glow of dusk was rapidly fading.

You could clearly notice that Wonwoo was exhausted with the way his shoulders slightly sagged. Despite the monotony of the trip, he had been driving for hours on end with no breaks.

“We should stop soon,” you said softly, not wanting to startle him. “You need to rest.”

Wonwoo nodded, but his gaze remained fixed on the road. “We will. Just a little farther. The petrol’s running low anyway.”

You hadn’t even realised how close to empty the tank was until he mentioned it. Petrol became almost as valuable as food, stolen more often than purchased. Stealing wasn’t even shocking anymore — it was just another part of survival in a world where morality took a backseat to necessity.

“I was lucky to find a couple of cans of petrol earlier,” he then said. “People are willing to kill for it these days.”

You shivered at the thought as you clutched the grey bag tighter. As miserable as things were, you held onto that small fragile hope that the shelter would bring some semblance of safety.

But deep down, you couldn’t help but wonder: how long could anyone survive in a world that had lost all sense of humanity?

╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴

Wonwoo pulled the car into the parking lot of a surprisingly quiet petrol station. The lights were dim and flickering faintly against the encroaching darkness, giving the surrounding area an eerie vibe. The engine gave a low grumble before falling silent, and for a moment, the only sound was the distant rustling of the wind.

He let out a long sigh, leaning his head back against the seat as his body drooped with exhaustion. His muscles ached from the hours of driving.

He stretched his arms, hearing the faint pop of his joints, then rubbed his eyes, desperate to shake off the sleep that was almost taking over him.

The silence was broken by a faint rumbling, and his attention was drawn to the passenger seat. He looked over and saw you curled up against the window, your head resting against the cool glass.

Your breathing was regular, your face peaceful in sleep, yet the small groans from your lips showed how uncomfortable you were. When your stomach growled again, louder this time, you shifted in your seat as you instinctively held onto it with one hand.

Wonwoo’s features softened. Watching you twitch uneasily, obviously in a web of hunger even while you slept, deepened his worry.

His chest tightened at the sight. He hated seeing you like this — helpless, vulnerable, suffering. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. None of it was supposed to be this way.

“I’m so sorry my love” he murmured with guilt.

He reached into his pocket and felt his fingers brush against the few coins and a cash note he had left. He fished them out and held them in his palm. It wasn’t much — just loose change he’d picked up along the way — but it might be enough to buy something small. A piece of bread, maybe, or a single can of food.

His jaw clenched as he eyed the coins and weighed his options. These days, every decision felt like a gamble, a compromise between desperation and survival.

In the end, he bit his lip as he made up his mind. Quietly, he opened the door and stepped out into the cool night air. As he closed the door behind him, he glanced back at you, who was asleep and unaware.

“I’ll make it better. Somehow.” he whispered once more.

The door to the small shop of the petrol station creaked slightly as it swung open. The store was eerily quiet when Wonwoo entered. Rows of shelves stood mostly empty, and it gave him a sour reminder of how quickly resources were running out.

What little remained was marked at absurdly high prices — instant noodles for ₩12,000, a single loaf of bread for ₩17,000. Wonwoo’s heart sank as he scanned the shelves, hoping to find something, anything, that he could afford.e

He grabbed a small packet of crackers and a can of soup, knowing it wasn’t much but hoping it would be enough to keep you going until you reached the shelter.

Approaching the counter, he placed the items down carefully, as if handling something precious. Behind the counter stood an old man. He looked at the items, then at Wonwoo, before punching numbers into the register.

“That will be ₩17,500” the old man said flatly, his voice devoid of sympathy.

Wonwoo hesitated, swallowing hard as he reached into his pockets and pulled out the note and coins he had left. He counted them slowly with his shaky hands before placing them on the counter.

“I’m sorry, this is all I have,” Wonwoo said as he looked up at the old man, hoping for a shred of understanding.

The man’s gaze hardened as he counted the money. “You’re ₩10,100 short, kid. Either pay the full price or leave the food.”

Wonwoo’s chest tightened, his heart sinking at the words. His mind was racing, and he opened his mouth to argue but hesitated.

“Please, sir,” he began, sounding desperate. “Me and my wife are really hungry, and this is all I have right now. Please, understand. It’ll mean a lot. We’re just trying to survive.”

The old man’s expression remained unchanged as he shook his head slowly. “We’re all trying to survive, son,” he replied. His tone was gruff but not unkind. “I have a family of my own to take care of. This job is all I have to feed them.”

Wonwoo’s shoulders slumped as he took in the man’s words. He understood — of course he did. Everyone was struggling, clawing their way through a world that had lost all semblance of order. But understanding didn’t make it any easier to accept.

“I know,” he said softly, almost pleading. “But please. You know the situation we’re all in. Nothing is in our control anymore. But if we help each other, even just a little…”

He trailed off, the weight of his words hanging in the air. The old man’s expression didn’t waver, though a small glint of something — regret, perhaps — passed through his eyes.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. In the end, Wonwoo let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping once again in defeat.

“Forget it,” he muttered. “I’m sorry. I’ll get going.”

He left the food on the counter and grabbed his money. He turned away before the man could say anything else. As he stepped out into the night, the cold air hit him like a slap. His chest ached even more as he made his way back to the car.

Climbing into the driver’s seat, he glanced at you, still asleep in the passenger seat. Your face was peaceful, almost angelic, but the faint furrow in your brow hinted at the hunger and discomfort you felt even in sleep.

Wonwoo’s eyes welled with tears as he stared at you, his guilt threatening to overwhelm him. He had promised to take care of you, to protect you, but in moments like this, he felt utterly powerless.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking as he rested his forehead against the steering wheel. The tears came then, silent but unstoppable. The world around you was as unforgiving as ever as he sat there in the dark.

He leaned closer and gently cupped your face in his hands. His lips grazed your skin like a silent apology before he placed soft lingering kisses on your cheek.

“I’m sorry it has to be this way,” he whispered with his voice heavy with regret. The tenderness of his actions stirred you awake, and when your eyelids fluttered open, you were met by his tired eyes.

“Woo? Did we arrive yet?” you murmured groggily while rubbing your eyes, still tired.

He smiled at you faintly, brushing back a strand of your hair. “Not yet, bun. We’re resting here for the night, okay?” he reassured you soothingly.

Your stomach betrayed you with a loud growl for what felt like the hundredth time. “I’m sorry” you mumbled in embarrassment.

Wonwoo chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Hold on,” he said, reaching into the back seat. His hand emerged with a black bag, which he unzipped to reveal a container of tomato pasta.

“I completely forgot about this. Here, eat this,” he said, handing you the food and a fork. “And this too,” he added, passing you a bottle of water.

You smiled brightly at the sight of the food, feeling a small burst of excitement lifting the heaviness in your heart. However, your joy faded almost as quickly as it came.

“But what about you?” you asked as you tilted your head to look at him.

Wonwoo met your gaze, his lips curling into a gentle smile. “Don’t worry about me, just eat,” he said softly.

“Are you sure?” doubt still lingering in your mind.

He giggled lightly as he placed a comforting hand over yours. “I’m a hundred percent sure, hun,” he assured you.

Reluctantly, you nodded, “okay then” you muttered before picking up the fork.

The cold, plain pasta wasn’t particularly appetising, but given the circumstances, it felt like a feast. Bite after bite, you worked your way through the meal, but your thoughts kept returning to your husband. The idea of him going without food didn’t feel right.

Unable to bear it, you paused, setting the fork down and saving half of the meal. Turning to him, you held up the fork with the remaining pasta, motioning for him to eat.

Wonwoo shook his head and tried to push your arm away. “I’m fine, really. Just finish it,” he said, his voice soft yet insistent.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you pleaded, “please? I won’t be able to rest if you don’t eat anything.”

Wonwoo didn’t think your words would affect him this badly, but they did, and his eyes glistened with unshed tears.

Finally, he gave in and opened his mouth as you fed him. Once the food was finished, he pulled you into a tight embrace. “When we get there, I promise to find a job and buy us good food,” he sniffled.

“I love you, Woo. Thank you for everything you’re doing for me, for us. I feel so useless because I’m not able to help you with anything. I’m sorry,” you cried.

Wonwoo, ever gentle, cupped your face with his warm hands, his eyes still glistening. “Don’t say that. As long as you’re safe with me, I will take care of you until my last breath,” he reassured you.

He gently wiped away your tears with his thumb and leaned in, “shh, it’s okay. I love you too, hmm?” before pressing a soft kiss on your lips.

You hummed quietly as a faint smile broke through the tears as you leaned into him. The two of you stayed like that for a while, cherishing the rare moment of peace.

But the moment was interrupted by a sudden knock on the car window, startling you both.

Wonwoo pulled away and turned toward the sound. He rolled down the window to reveal the familiar face of the old man from the shop. The man stood there, holding two bags filled to the brim, presumably with food and other necessities. His eyes held a look of compassion as he offered the bags.

“Yes?” Wonwoo asked, his voice slightly hoarse as he wiped his tears, trying to compose himself.

“Here, have this,” the old man said. “I know you’re tired and hungry. Seeing you leave like that made me feel so bad. Please, have these,” he added, handing the bags to Wonwoo.

Wonwoo’s hands shook slightly as he accepted the bags, overwhelmed by the unexpected kindness. “Thank you so much. You don’t know how much this means to us,” he said, his voice filled with genuine gratitude. “Please, take care of yourself and your wife” he added, his lips curling into a faint.

The old man nodded with a warm smile. “Oh! If you need more petrol to refuel your car, then please, go ahead. I’m not going to charge you,” he said with a gentle laugh, turning to leave before Wonwoo could thank him again.

As the old man limped back to the shop, you turned to your husband. “Such a sweet old man. If it was anyone else, they would’ve kicked us out of here.”

Wonwoo nodded while his gaze followed the man. “I know,” he murmured, the words felt heavy as he watched the man disappear into the distance.

You and Wonwoo decided to save the food, even though your stomachs were still growling with hunger. The plan was to eat once you reached your next shelter. It was a small act of caution and preparation for the unknown days ahead. Despite having eaten earlier, the pangs of hunger constantly reminded you of how fragile your situation had become.

With a sigh, the two of you moved to the back passenger seats, where you would spend yet another night. The space was cramped and uncomfortable, the seats barely allowing enough room to stretch, but it was still better than nothing. At least it provided a form of security, however fragile.

“It’s getting colder,” you murmured frustratingly as you rubbed your arms for warmth. The autumn chill arrived too quickly, tearing through the thin layers of clothes you wore.

“Ugh, why did it have to be autumn so soon?” you groaned, shivering slightly. Wonwoo watched you quietly, his heart aching at your struggle.

Without a word, he reached for a blanket from the back and unfolded it quickly before wrapping it around your shoulders. The sudden warmth was comforting, and you looked at him with a small, grateful smile.

“Are you warm now?” he asked softly with affection. You nodded, snuggling deeper into the blanket. “Yes, much better,” you replied, before laying your head gently on his lap.

His hand instinctively found its way to your hair, his fingers brushing through it in soothing strokes. “Goodnight, my love,” he whispered, pressing a tender kiss to the crown of your head. You responded with a soft hum, already drifting off to sleep under the soothing weight of the blanket and his gentle touch.

However, Wonwoo was unable to fall asleep. It had been more than an hour since you fell asleep, but his mind was racing with thoughts. Worries about the days ahead pressed heavily on his heart as he stared into the darkness.

His head began to throb with a dull ache, a pain he tried to ignore, but it only grew sharper.

He reached up to rub the itchy spot on his neck, only to be met with a warm, rigid sensation. A sudden trickle from his nose proved his suspicions accurate. Bringing his hand up, he saw the crimson streak of blood against his skin.

Wonwoo closed his eyes and sighed deeply, knowing exactly what it meant but keeping it to himself for the time being.

╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴

You both woke up to a gloomy dawn the following day. The rain outside was heavy and persistent, and the air felt cold and moist. The tranquil quiet of yesterday's sunny but chilly weather was replaced by the continuous sound of rain on the car’s roof.

You and Wonwoo used the last of the water supply to brush your teeth before packing up and getting ready for yet another long drive.

In contrast to yesterday, the weather today was bleak and unwelcoming. Seeing how miserable the weather was, it made your insides feel uneasy. It felt as though something was bound to happen — something ominous. The feeling stuck to you stubbornly, no matter how much you tried to shake it off.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat as you looked out of the window, watching as the rain blurred your view of the surroundings. Inside, a quiet fear began to build. You couldn’t place its source, but it was there, lingering and constant.

Beside you, Wonwoo’s silence only amplified the discomfort. His usual light-hearted comments or casual chatter were absent. Instead, there was heavy quietness that filled the car. It was almost unnatural for him to be so distant, and that too all of a sudden.

You made a few attempts to spark conversation, but each was met with a quiet nod or a non-committal hum. It was almost as if he were intentionally avoiding you.

You were confused.

He was fine last night, but now, he seemed to be closed off. His thoughts were miles away that you couldn’t read. Not wanting to pry, you decided to give him space, even as the silence between you felt heavier with each passing mile.

╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴

After what felt like an endless journey through the rain, you finally arrived at the shelter you and Wonwoo would be staying — a small, weathered cottage near the seaside. The sound of crashing waves greeted you, blending with the faint drizzle that had begun to lighten.

This cottage held a deep connection to Wonwoo’s past. It belonged to his grandparents, who raised him after his parents passed away. Now that they too had left this world, the cottage was left unused, standing as a quiet memory of his childhood.

The cottage, though old, was still serviceable. It wasn’t luxurious by any means, but it would provide shelter and a place to rest. You could already tell that adjustments would need to be made to make it feel more comfortable.

As the car came to a stop, Wonwoo unbuckled his seatbelt and stepped out of the car without a word. His expression wasn’t cold or annoyed, but there was something — a look of someone lost in their thoughts. Someone who was being weighed down by something he couldn’t yet voice.

You followed his lead, stepping into the damp air as he began unloading your belongings. “Honey-” you called softly, hoping to reach him, but he brushed past you without so much as a glance, heading straight into the house.

The silence between you continued, and it worried you. Something was clearly troubling him, but he wasn’t ready to share it with you yet.

You stood by the doorway, arms crossed and sulky, watching as your husband silently moved the last few bags into the tiny cottage. You were beginning to grow irritated as his silence went on.

As he brushed past you, carrying another box, you trailed after him like a lost puppy. You hated the feeling of being ignored, and it was twisting uncomfortably in your chest.

“May I please know why you’re so quiet and why you’re ignoring me?” you finally blurted, reaching out to grab his wrist. Your voice was soft, and your eyes searched his face, hoping for an answer.

Wonwoo paused, his expression unreadable, but he said nothing.

“Baby,” you pouted, stepping closer. Lifting your hands to cup his face, you tilted it toward you. “What’s wrong with you?” you asked again, placing soft kisses on his neck, trying to coax a response from him.

He let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders dropping. Finally, he met your gaze with a tired smile. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I just…I guess I was too lost in my thoughts” he made an excuse.

“What are you thinking about?” you pressed, tilting your head curiously.

“Oh, nothing important,” he replied, leaning down to peck your lips. You knew it was a clear attempt to distract you, but you couldn’t let it go.

You opened your mouth to speak, but before a single word could escape, the ground beneath you suddenly began to tremble violently. The whole cottage quaked, sending the old, dusty objects on the shelves crashing to the floor. The intensity of the shaking grew rapidly with every second, throwing you off balance and sending you sprawling onto the cold, hard floor.

“Y/n!” Wonwoo’s deep loud voice rang out above the chaos, filled with worry and urgency. You turned your head to see him gripping the nearest wall for support, his wide eyes darting around in alarm.

“W-Wonwoo, what’s happening?” you stammered as you desperately held to the edge of the sofa for stability. Your heart pounding against your ribs in fear.

“Honey, are you okay? Stay calm over there, okay? I’m coming to you!” Wonwoo shouted, firmly but reassuringly as he tried to keep you grounded. He started moving towards you, but the violent shaking intensified, making it nearly impossible for him to stay steady.

A loud cry of fear tore from your throat as a particularly forceful jolt rocked the entire cottage. In an instant, Wonwoo threw caution to the wind, sprinting towards you as fast as his unsteady footing allowed. Reaching you, he dropped to his knees and wrapped his arms tightly around your trembling frame.

“I got you baby. I got you,” he whispered in your ear with his soothing voice as he pulled you closer to his chest.

“What’s going on?” you whimpered as you clung onto him.

“It seems like an earthquake — a really strong one,” he replied worriedly. The two of you held on to each other while hoping the nightmare would soon end.

Suddenly, the ground stopped trembling, but the silence that followed wasn’t comforting. Instead, it was heavy with dread. You both knew that this wasn’t the end but the calm before an even greater disaster. The tension was thick, and your grip on his arm tightened as he shifted.

“Wait here, okay? I’m just going-”

“No! Don’t leave me! Please” you pleaded, your voice breaking. Panic surged as your fingers dug into his arm.

“I’m not leaving you, baby. I promise,” he said firmly as his hands cupped your face with an assurance that contradicted the terror in his eyes. “I just need to grab my mini radio. We have to figure out what’s happening. I’ll be right here.”

Reluctantly, you let him go, watching as he rummaged through the mess. When he finally found the radio, he turned it on. Static crackled, followed by the frantic voice of a news broadcaster.

“An earthquake of magnitude 9.1 has struck the east coast! All residents must evacuate immediately. There is a tsunami heading that way. I repeat — a tsunami is heading that way!”

The broadcast was cut short as the radio emitted only static, leaving you both in chilling silence. You exchanged a look, both too paralysed to speak. Internally, fear gnawed at you. The weight of what was coming made your breaths quicken, but there was no time to waste. The clock was ticking, and survival was now a race against nature.

Shakily, you pushed yourself off the ground with your unstable legs as you staggered toward the doorway. Outside, the world was spookily quiet. You pondered for a moment before stepping out of the house. The sky was painted in deep shades of grey, signalling a storm that was brewing on the horizon, but what caught your attention wasn’t the weather.

It was the beach.

Your breath hitched as you caught sight of it. An enormous wave, far out in the ocean but undeniably charging toward the shore. The size of it made your stomach drop.

For a moment, you froze as your mind struggled to process the gravity of what you were seeing. Then panic set in. Your chest tightened, and you began hyperventilating, your vision blurring slightly from the overwhelming fear.

“W-WONWOO!” you screamed desperately. Within seconds, your husband was at your side, running towards you with alarm.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, but you could only point toward the horizon. The moment his eyes followed your finger and landed on the monstrous wave, his body stiffened. His adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard.

“We need to get out of here, now!” he said, grabbing your hand.

His tone left no room for argument, and together, you sprinted toward the car, leaving everything behind. You didn’t look back — not at the house, not at the approaching wave. Because all that mattered was escape.

Once you both got inside, Wonwoo slammed the door and turned the ignition. The engine roared to life as he crushed the accelerator pedal, and the tires screeched as you raced away from the coastline. The vehicle jostled and bounced over the uneven road, but neither of you complained.

Reaching out and entwining your fingers with his, you grasped onto him as though he were your lifeline. Wonwoo stole a brief glance, and his panic wavered a little. Lifting your hand to his lips, he pressed a quick kiss to your knuckles.

“Don’t worry baby, I’m here” he said.

The minutes dragged on as Wonwoo drove. The road seemed like it was never going to end, and everything around you felt unreal. Everything seemed disturbingly sombre as a result of the dark grey, menacing hue of the sky.

Your heart plummeted again when you saw it — an enormous sinkhole directly in your path.

“Wonwoo, look out!” you screamed.

Wonwoo’s eyes darted forward, widening as he saw the massive sinkhole ahead. Gasping, he slammed on the brakes and the tires screeched loudly against the pavement. The car jerked to a halt just in time, mere feet away from the edge.

“What the-” he muttered under his breath as he threw open the car door, his jaw tight with frustration and fear.

You trailed closely behind, holding his arm as you both ventured outside to assess the situation. The ground was scattered in sinkholes, each of which appeared to be bigger than the one before. The severity of the situation became apparent as you stared at the maze of devastation.

“How are we going to make it to the other side?” you asked.

Wonwoo ran a hand through his hair as his mind raced for a solution. He stared at the sinkholes as if he was asking the earth to respond.

Before he could respond, the ground beneath your feet began to tremor once again. This time, the shaking was violent, far more intense than before. You stumbled and tightened your hold on his arm as panic struck again.

The second earthquake hit with such force that it knocked both of you off your feet. The violent tremors rippled through the earth, creating a large, jagged crack that spread across the road. You clung to Wonwoo instinctively as the ground began to split further, separating into an immense gap.

The road ahead was completely inaccessible as pieces of dirt and asphalt disintegrated and fell into the growing pit. The sound of destruction filled the air, like the grumbles of the earth, the crash of debris, and your own frightful sobbing.

You shuddered violently, tears streaming down your face. Wonwoo pulled you in close and encircled his arms around you as if they could protect you from the mayhem.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” he said.

Summoning his strength, he rose to his feet and scooped you up in one swift motion before carrying you back to the car. He hurriedly got behind the wheel and put you in the passenger seat. Slamming the gear into reverse, he turned the vehicle around and sped off in the opposite direction.

But luck was not on your side. Wonwoo’s knuckles whitened on the steering wheel as his eyes budged in horror.

Before you, a huge tsunami wave raced ahead, engulfing everything in its path. He slammed on the brakes and the car jerked to a sudden stop.

“Fuck!” he swore under his breath. The wave was unstoppable, and escape seemed impossible.

“Wonwoo,” your voice quivered as you tried to meet his gaze. Wonwoo turned to you immediately, his heart sinking at the sight of your tear-streaked, reddened face.

“I’m s-scared,” you stammered, your words breaking between sobs. “I don’t want to d-die.” Your hand reached out for his and clutched it tightly as if it could tether you to safety.

Wonwoo’s chest ached as though it might shatter. The truth, one he could never bring himself to say, was that there was no escaping this. You both knew it. Here, in this wretched place where hope had no footing, getting out alive was an impossibility.

Wonwoo felt his throat tighten, and his own tears welled up as he watched you crumble before him. His mind thought of words that could comfort you, but nothing felt like enough.

“Come here” he managed to utter.

Without hesitation, he tugged you gently toward him, pulling you onto his lap. You sank into his embrace and buried your face in his chest as his arms wrapped securely around you.

He rested his cheek against your hair and began to press soft kisses across your forehead.

Between each kiss, he murmured softly,

“I love you so much,” he promised softly between each kiss. It was all he could offer — a reminder that, no matter what, you weren’t alone.

“Maybe this life isn’t for us,” his voice cracked, barely audible over your muffled cries. Each word felt like a dagger, cutting deeper into your fragile heart.

You couldn’t stop the sobs that wracked your chest as you buried your face against him, clutching his shirt like it was the only thing wiring you to reality.

The car rocked beneath you both, moving backward inch by inch, with screeching metal filling the air. Wonwoo clenched his jaw and closed his eyes as tears trickled down his cheeks. He'd been trying so hard to be strong for you, but the burden of the situation eventually broke him.

“I don’t want to die—I don’t want to die,” you mumbled repeatedly, the words spilling out like a mantra.

Wonwoo’s heart clenched painfully, and his hands moved to cup your tear-soaked face. Gently, he lifted your head, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“Look at me, Y/n,” he urged, his voice soft but insistent. But you tried to avoid his eyes, still shaking.

“Look at me baby, please” he repeated. Slowly and hesitantly, your tearful eyes locked with his.

“Just think of this as a bad dream,” he whispered as his thumb brushed softly against your cheek to wipe away the tears.

“When we wake up, we’re going to be in paradise. Together. I promise” his voice cracked, but he kept going.

“I’m never going to leave your side. We’re in this together — we’ll always be together” he spoke, offering you the only comfort he could.

Leaning forward, Wonwoo’s lips captured yours in a desperate, passionate kiss. Your hands instinctively grabbed his arms in response, but your body still rattled, terror still burning like wildfire through your veins. He felt it, the way your hands shook, the way you struggled to match his composure.

Breaking the kiss, Wonwoo grabbed your wrists gently and pulled you closer. “My love, relax” he murmured as his lips brushed against your forehead.

“We’re going to paradise together. Death can’t separate us. This place isn’t for us — we’re meant for something better.”

The car shifted again, tilting downward as gravity began to win, but Wonwoo refused to let you look away.

“Stay with me, baby,” he whispered. “Just stay with me.”

“You’ve been the best thing that’s ever happened in my life,” Wonwoo whispered.

He rested his forehead against yours, feeling his breath mingling with yours as he spoke. “The love of my life. The one who lit up my world.” His words poured out like a raw and unfiltered confession.

“We were both lonely in this messed-up world, but fate brought us together when we needed each other the most.” A faint, bittersweet smile tugged at his lips as he added, “I’m so glad I found you.”

He leaned in and pecked your lips softly. “I can’t even put into words how much I love you,” his voice broke.

“You’ll always be my first and my last. This isn’t the end, princess. Never.” His hands cradled your face as his eyes bore into yours. They were filled with a conviction that made you believe his every word.

“This is just the beginning of our beautiful life in paradise. Our journey in this cruel place is over.”

Something about his voice, his touch, finally allowed you to exhale the fear that had gripped you. Your body began to relax, the terror of death slowly melting away. As long as he was with you, there was nothing left to fear.

The car lurched again, the edge of the crater drawing nearer, but you no longer panicked. Wonwoo’s words anchored you.

As the car tipped forward, Wonwoo wrapped you tightly in his arms, whispering over and over, “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

“I love you too, Woo,” you mumbled against his neck.

It was the last words you said, and the last Wonwoo heard as the car plunged into the pit of the earth. Together, into the unknown.

a/n; lowkey cried, so tragic :(

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scarlet789 · 1 day ago

Text

BRUISES AND KISSES

Jeonghan was always protective of you, sometimes to a fault.

❧ PAIRING; jeonghan x reader

❧ GENRE; hurt/comfort, fluff

❧ TAGS/WARNINGS; established relationship, mention of a fight, mentions of injuries, hurt/comfort, fluff

❧ WORDCOUNT; 0.8k

𐚁₊⊹

Jeonghan sat on the worn-out motel bed with his knuckles split and crusted with dried blood. His bottom lip was swollen, and a thin line of red traced down to his chin where a fresh cut sat angrily against his skin.

Your hands were shaking as you reached for him, and your fingers hesitated just before touching his cheek. Your breath hitched. Your chest rose and fell too fast, too erratic.

Jeonghan tilted his head slightly as his bruised jaw tightened. “Baby—”

“Don’t,” you whispered, shaking your head as you tried to hold back the tears welling up in your eyes.

You practically watched it all unfold. The way the man at the bar smirked at you. The crude words he spat in your direction. The way Jeonghan reacted without hesitation.

You barely processed the insult before Jeonghan shoved his chair back with a loud scrape and his fists already flying. It was brutal — quick, ruthless and filled with an anger you rarely saw in him.

But now, as he sat there battered and bruised, he didn’t look angry. He looked at you the way he always did. A softness that made your chest ache. A small, lopsided smile played on his busted lips, and that broke you.

Finally letting the tears spill over, you let out a shaky sob.

“Baby, please don’t cry,” Jeonghan mumbled tenderly, though his voice was rough.

You sniffled and ignored him as your fingers hovered over his cheek before pressing against his jaw. When he flinched slightly, you flinched back in response.

Your heart squeezed painfully in your chest. “You’re hurt,” you whispered almost inaudibly.

Jeonghan exhaled through his nose, his fingers twitching against his thigh as if he wanted to reach for you. “It’s not as bad as it looks” he tried to reassure you.

But you shot him a look that told him you weren’t in the mood for his nonchalance.

“You always do this,” you said.

“You act like you’re made of stone, like you can take every hit without flinching.”

Your hands curled into tight fists against your lap. “But I saw you Jeonghan. I saw him punch you. I saw the blood.”

Jeonghan sighed as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Y/n I love you, and I wasn’t gonna let him talk to you like that.”

Your throat tightened. “I know.”

And that was the worst part. You knew.

Jeonghan was always protective of you, sometimes to a fault. He would do anything to shield you, even if it meant breaking himself in the process. It scared you — this self-destructive need he had to take on the world for you sake. You loved him for it, but God, you hated it too.

You reached forward and gently cupped his face in your hands. His skin was warm in your palms as your eyes traced every bruise and every scrape.

Jeonghan just let you, and his body relaxed under your gentle touch. He always did.

Slowly, you leaned in and your lips pressed the softest kiss against the corner of his mouth — right where the wound met unbroken skin.

Jeonghan sucked in a sharp breath, and his body went still.

Your lips lingered for a second longer as a silent apology and a silent plea for him to stop putting himself in harm’s way for you.

You pulled back slightly, your eyes still glossy with unshed tears and your bottom lip trembling. “You scare me when you do this,” you admitted.

Jeonghan’s expression softened. He reached his hand out and used his thumb to brush away a stray tear from your cheek.

“I’m sorry baby, I don’t mean to.”

You let out a shaky laugh. “I know.”

For a moment, you both sat in silence. Then, Jeonghan finally moved. His fingers slipped under your chin and tilted your face up so you were looking at him again.

“Come here,” he whispered.

You hesitated for only a second before closing the space between you. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders as you buried your face in the crook of his neck. Jeonghan let out a quiet sigh, his arms coming around you to hold you close.

“You’re okay,” you mumbled against his skin, as if saying it enough times would make it true.

“I am now” Jeonghan pressed a kiss against your temple.

You pulled back and looked at him in the eyes intently. “Promise me,” you managed through a broken whisper.

Jeonghan knew what you were asking.

He let out a slow breath as his fingers tracer circles against your lower back. “I promise to try.”

It wasn’t the promise you wanted. But it was Jeonghan. And for now, that was enough.

You sighed and leaned in again, pressing another kiss to his bruised lip. It was softer this time, like you were trying to heal the wound with every touch. Jeonghan kissed you back just as slow and gentle, despite the pain it probably caused him.

When you both finally pulled away, Jeonghan gave you that same lopsided grin.

“You should see the other guy.”

You rolled your eyes as a watery laugh escaped your lips. “Idiot.”

Jeonghan chuckled, but winced slightly. “But I’m your idiot.”

And God help you, he was.

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scarlet789 · 1 day ago

Text

FALLING OVER YOU

Loving you wasn’t something he’d ever need to be convinced to do. It was as easy as breathing.

❧ PAIRING; jeonghan x reader

❧ GENRE; fluff

❧ TAGS/WARNINGS; established relationship, alcohol consumption, drunk reader gets hurt, soft bf jeonghan, light humour, FLUFF

❧ WORDCOUNT; 1.7k

𐚁₊⊹

▍12 MARCH 2025

The wedding reception was in full swing. The grand ballroom shimmered under golden chandeliers while laughter and music filled the lively air. You had been drinking since the cocktail hour, taking pleasure in the way the bubbles tickled your throat, and the coolness of alcohol making everything feel lighter and funnier. By the time the dance floor opened, you were undeniably drunk. Happily, recklessly, and joyously so.

And Jeonghan? He stood at a distance, leaning casually against the beverage bar with a glass of whiskey in hand. The ice clinked softly within the glass as he swirled the drink, but his attention was elsewhere.

You.

You were so radiant as you swirled and twirled, laughing with unfiltered joy. Your dress flared with every spin, which messed your hair from the movement, but you didn’t care. Neither did he. You were too caught up in the moment with the bride and your other old school friends, dancing like no one was watching.

But Jeonghan was. He always was.

You looked free. So genuinely happy that it made his chest tighten in an unfamiliar way. It wasn’t often you let go like this. You didn’t have a big circle of friends, and sometimes, that quiet loneliness weighed on you more than you admitted.

But here? Here, you shone while being surrounded by familiar faces, old friends who knew pieces of you that Jeonghan didn’t.

When another upbeat song blasted through the speakers, you threw your arms around the bride as you both squealed and jumped in excitement. The way you moved with an energy so infectious and your laugh ringing out over the music, the other guests couldn’t help but be drawn in by your carefree spirit. Some even joined in. You spun too fast, causing your balance to falter for just a second before you recovered with a hearty laugh.

Jeonghan chuckled under his breath while shaking his head.

“Your girl’s having the time of her life,” one of his friends teased as he nudged him with an elbow.

Jeonghan cracked a small smirk, lifting his glass to his lips. “She always does” he responded.

Tonight seemed a little different to him. He saw you drunk before. He saw you let loose and have fun. But this was a bit different.

Maybe it was the nostalgia in the air with the way you clung to the bride like you were sixteen again. Maybe it was the way your smile didn’t wavered all night. Maybe it was just you being unrestrained and absolutely captivating.

And Jeonghan? He was just standing there, watching. And falling a little more in love with you.

When the song ended, you doubled over, breathless with laughter. You gripped the bride’s shoulders for support as you tried not to collapse from the high of it all. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes, and your cheeks were flushed from the alcohol and nonstop dancing. The bride was laughing too, both of you hanging onto each other like teenagers at your first party.

And then, there he was.

You caught sight of your boyfriend leaning casually against the bar with the other guys. He held a drink in one hand, but his eyes were locked on you with that damn smirk. The same one that made your heart skip every time.

Your giddy smile widened impossibly more. You didn’t even think.

Without hesitation, you grabbed the bottom of your dress and hiked it up just enough to free your legs. Then you took off, running towards him like you were in some ridiculous rom-com.

Jeonghan straightened instantly, and his smirk vanished into something closer to alarm as his eyes scanned your legs.

Your heels. Your long, trailing dress.

“Y/n, slow dow—”

Too late.

Your heel caught the fabric, snagging on the hem with perfect, cruel timing.

Everything swayed.

Your body pitched forward as your foot twisted at an unnatural angle. Pain shot up your leg instantly. Your arms flailed out instinctively, but there was nothing to grab, nothing to stop the inevitable.

You crashed to the ground with a hard thud and a sharp, agonising squeal that silenced the space around you.

Jeonghan’s heart slammed into his ribs. The glass slipped from his hand and fell onto the bar top as he bolted forward, pushing past the other guys without apology.

You were already curled into yourself as your hands clutched your ankle. Your face was twisted in pain, and your lips trembled as you tried not to cry.

“Ow, ow, ow!” you whimpered, squeezing your eyes shut as the sharp sting started radiating from your ankle up your calf.

The music didn’t stop, and neither did the wedding festivities. Some people nearby gasped while some others laughed, but Jeonghan tuned them all out. His expression was pure panic disguised as calm, the way he always got when he was scared.

“Baby,” he crouched beside you as his hands were already reaching out to check your ankle.

“Are you okay?”

You cracked one eye open, lip wobbling as you tried to play it down. Tried and failed.

“I think my ankle is broken.”

It came out in a pitiful pout, and for a split second, Jeonghan almost smiled at how dramatic it sounded. Almost.

“Let me see.” His tone shifted, lower and more certain now. He gently lifted the bottom of your dress as he bunched it above your knee.

Your ankle was already swelling, flushed an angry red. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath, careful not to touch the spot that looked the worst. “It might just be sprained, but we’re not waiting around to find out.”

“I didn’t even run that fast” you said with a slight slur, blinking at him.

“Why were you even running? Have you seen the heels you’re wearing?” he tutted.

“I was excited!” you whined, throwing your arms around his shoulders. “You looked hot standing there.”

He let out a breathy laugh — just a small one — as he slid his arms under you. “You’re so drunk right now.”

“I know” you nodded sagely before gasping. “Hannie! This is so bad. How am I supposed to dance now?”

“You’re not,” he said firmly, not missing a beat. His tone was firm and final, and it made your face fall and bottom lip jut out even further.

“But I love dancing!” you cried, leaning into him as he adjusted you securely in his arms.

“And I love you, but you’re not risking making it worse,” he said, kissing your temple gently as he stood up fully.

You squeaked at the movement and quickly curled into him like a koala, arms locking tightly around his neck and your cheek pressing against his shoulder. The music still pulsed in the background, but none of it mattered now.

“Guess you’re carrying me around like a princess for the rest of the night,” you mumbled against the fabric of his shirt, breathing in the comforting scent of his woodsy cologne.

“Guess I am,” he sighed, smiling despite the situation.

He carefully carried you away from the main crowd and into the quiet hallway just outside the ballroom, slipping through an open door and into a side lounge area that was set up for guests needing a break from the dancing. It was dim and quieter — just the way he needed it to be right now.

Jeonghan was painfully gentle as he lowered you onto the plush velvet sofa, moving as if you were made of glass. You winced as your ankle was settled on a throw pillow. The pressure was minimal but it was still enough to make your toes curl.

He sat beside you, his hand immediately finding yours. “Do you want me to find some ice?” he asked softly, brushing the hair from your face.

You nodded, “please…” your lips trembled.

He was up in a second, vanishing down the hallway like a man on a mission, and returned moments later with a small hotel ice bucket wrapped in napkins. He kneeled in front of you as he gently pressed the makeshift compress against your ankle.

You flinched at first, then sighed at the cool relief. “That’s better,” you breathed, slumping into the sofa with your eyes fluttering closed.

Jeonghan looked up at you, taking in the disheveled mess you were. Hair wild, mascara smudged from the tears you didn't let fall, lipstick faint on your lips after all the drinking and dancing. And still, his heart clenched.

“You know, for someone who can barely walk, you’re still kind of cute,” he said, leaning forward to press a kiss to your forehead.

You cracked one eye open and smiled lazily. “You think I’m cute even when I’m a drunk disaster?”

He chuckled and brushed his thumb over your cheek. “Especially then. You’re very honest when you’re drunk. And a little clingy.”

“A little?” you scoffed. You sat up and immediately threw your arms around him again, clinging to his torso like a sloth.

“You’re lucky I didn’t propose on the dance floor.”

He laughed into your hair. “You kind of did, actually. Right before you tried to sprint in heels.”

You gasped. “No! What did I say?”

“Something about making me yours forever and then calling me ‘Yoon Jeonghan, Lord of Whiskey and My Heart.’”

“I hate me” you buried your face into his shoulder.

He smiled and kissed the top of your head. “I love you. Every ridiculous, dramatic, beautiful inch of you.”

Your heart fluttered at that. And when you pulled back slightly to look into his eyes, his expression softened even more. His hand found your cheek, thumb brushing your jaw, and then his lips were on yours. Gentle and warm. The kind of kiss that didn’t need to rush, that you were safe here.

You kissed him back with the same quiet intensity, letting your fingers curl into his shirt. “Can we stay here a while?” you asked when you finally pulled back.

“As long as you want.” He tucked a stray hair behind your ear, his eyes lingering on your face like it was the only view that mattered.

A comfortable silence fell between you. He kept the ice pressed to your ankle, and with your head resting on his shoulder, you began to drift.

“Promise me you’ll carry me like this forever,” you mumbled sleepily.

He leaned down and kissed your temple again, arms wrapping around you protectively. “Even when you can walk again, I’ll still carry you if you want me to.”

“I do.”

Jeonghan’s heart skipped at the words — slurred and accidental as they were — and for a moment, he let himself imagine it: the real version.

Loving you wasn’t something he’d ever need to be convinced to do. It was as easy as breathing.

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scarlet789 · 5 days ago

Text

skz hyung line ✦ moonstruck ! ༄.°

skz!hyung line + calling each other up at midnight

masterlist . . . ✰

𓆩♡𓆪 𝒶n : based on these prompts , new fav fic unlocked (personally) bc i’m definitely a night person lol , talking to someone all night is a DREAM (i did it only once w my bsf). anywayy, enjoy <3 (maknae line coming when I have the patience to write it later)

𓆩♡𓆪 𝓌arnings + tags : sometimes very little hurt (or not) to comfort ; fluff ; mention of nightmares (in chan’s) ; mentions of parents fighting (in lee know’s) ; very short (changbin’s)(just like him 😭) ; striving to be perfect, toxic academic validation, mentions of burning out (in hyunjin’s) ; not proofread.

𓆩♡𓆪 𝓌c : 1.8k

bang chan ⭑ ‘if I fall asleep, don’t hang up.’ / ‘I never do, baby.’

it was around 1 a.m., and chan had just returned to his dorm from the studio. jeongin was hanging out at the minsung dorm for the night, so he was alone.

chan saw a string of texts from you, the most recent one from just a few minutes ago. wondering why you weren’t asleep already, he looked for your name in his contacts list and facetimed you.

you picked up the call in under a few seconds.

setting his phone against the table, he began changing into his night clothes.

“why aren’t you sleeping, baby? what’s bothering you?” he asked softly.

“nothing,” you said, too stubborn to admit why you weren’t asleep.

he raised his eyebrow at you, and tilted his head a little. “really?”

“I just had a nightmare.” you whispered, but he still heard it through the phone. he looked at your face in concern: dark circles underlining your eyes, a thin layer of sweat shining on your face, and slightly dishevelled hair.

“oh, baby,” he cooed. “I wanna hold you so tightly right now.”

he picked up the phone and moved around to lay sideways on his bed, propping it against a pillow.

“wish you were here, channie,” you said sadly, tears brimming your eyes at the reminder of your nightmare.

“please don’t cry, baby, do you want to talk about it?” he asked. you nodded your head ‘no’. “that’s all right. want me to talk to you about something?”

“yes please,” you smiled a little. he watches as you ruffle your bedsheets and set up your pillows to lie in the same position as him: sideways, with the phone against a pillow. “what did you work on today?”

“hannie and I were going through some stuff for the new dominate mixtape,” he said.

“how far along has it come?” you asked, sliding deeper into the blanket.

he continued talking about the mixtape, han’s antics, and how hard it was apparently to take care of him without changbin’s support (as a joke, obviously).

you felt your eyes drooping slowly, chan’s voice buzzing in the background. you were being lulled to sleep by his calm, angelic voice.

with your last bit of consciousness, you breathe out. “if I fall asleep, don’t hang up.”

his voice replied with a “I never do, baby.” as you finally fell asleep peacefully, because now, chan was finally there to take care of you.

lee know ⭑ ‘talk to me. what’s going on?’

you had been having the worst week of your life. and of course, it was still january.

on monday, you got yelled at by your homeroom teacher for being five minutes late.

on tuesday, you spilled ink from your pen on yourself and your friend.

on wednesday, all the coffee powder in your house magically ran out and you were caffeine-deprived for the day.

on thursday, when you thought it couldn’t get any worse, it did. your parents fought again.

on friday, you were sure your bad luck would bring something worse for the day. but, it didn’t.

school went normally, without sudden burstings of pens or scoldings from teachers. you had enough coffee. you did well on your test.

and of course, how could you forget: your best friend, lee know, asked to hang out with you for the evening.

after recording a pudding mukbang together, you sent it to han, minho’s and yours’ best friend.

minho and you played jenga, watched horror movies, skateboarded in the park till night fell. the whole time, you looked like you were just waiting for the other shoe to drop, because there was no way that the entire day was simply… good? right?

when minho dropped you back home, he opened his mouth to say something. but, he closed it just as he had opened it. you wished each other a good night, and he left after giving you a hug.

however, in the smack middle of the night, you could hear your parents arguing about something. again. of course.

at the same time you woke up, your phone rang with minho’s contact name appearing on it. without thinking, you answered it.

“do you want me to come over, jagi?” he asked softly. how did he even know something was wrong?

“can you?” you asked hesitantly, willing yourself not to start sobbing.

you could hear some rustling from his end, and then he cut the call.

in two minutes, there was a knock against your window. you scrambled to open it and pulled minho inside. he raised his eyebrows at the sound of your parents arguing, but didn’t say anything.

“talk to me, jagi.” he whispered into my ear as he came closer to hug me. “what’s going on?”

seo changbin ⭑ ‘I wish you were here.’

both changbin and you had been working overtime the past few weeks. he had been tied up with 3racha while producing new music, and you had been overworked at your office.

you both came home at odd hours of the night and left at random hours of the morning.

you had one new message from changbin: “I wish you were here.”

you quickly sent him a picture of you petting your cat’s head: “we wish you were here with us too ): ”

you sighed sadly as he had already gone offline.

a few days later, changbin had apparently had enough of whatever the hell was going on. one night, when you were working late, the intercom of your office room buzzed. “ms. y/n? there’s someone here to see you.”

you got up, confused as to who would be there this late.

as you grew closer to the person, you realised it was him. your face immediately lit up at the sight.

“binnie!” you called excitedly. “how are you— here, oh my god?”

“baby,” he called, wrapping his arms around you and picking you up a little off the ground. “I missed you too much.” he pouted.

he opened the bag he was holding. “plus, I got us food! we can have a dinner date here,” he grinned at you.

“keep telling me your wishes forever, and i’ll make them come true slowly,” he promised, holding out his pinky finger.

a tear slipped down your face as you nodded and interlocked your pinky finger with his.

“then, I wish you’re always by my side. i’m very biased and selfish about this, obviously.” you said and laughed.

he pressed a kiss to your forehead and mumbled a soft ‘I was planning to do that anyway, my love.’

hwang hyunjin ⭑ ‘sing to me?’

“n/n, you need to sleep.” hyunjin said. you look at his concerned face through the screen.

you had been studying with your best friend, hyunjin, on online meetings (on the days you couldn’t meet up in cafes or libraries) for the past two weeks, since your finals were coming up.

he usually stopped studying by 11 p.m., but always insisted on staying on call till you finished too. which was… around 2 a.m.

normally, he’d just stay on call and fall asleep. you’d wrap up studying quietly by 2 in the night and look at his soft face illuminated by his nightlight for a while before ending the call.

whenever he woke up the next day, he would check the duration of the previous night’s call and sigh. he knew you were trying to push yourself harder to always maintain your good grades. he didn’t want to sound insincere by telling you to stop studying, but he was certainly very worried for your health.

he couldn’t let you do this to your body and mental health anymore, so he finally decided to confront you about it. he was stubborn in his words to make you sleep early today.

“n/n.” he repeated. his brows were pinched together.

“it’s still just 9, hyune. I can’t sleep already. besides, there’s still lots of topics i’ve got to finish today,” you reasoned with him.

“y/n. you’re going to burnout like this. forget your academic comeback, then, because you’ll be too sick to study or even write your finals. that is, if you keep going at this rate,” he said, pointing an accusatory finger at you.

“but—”

“no. i’m serious about this. I can’t just sit by and watch while my best girl destroys herself to satisfy her parents’ and teachers’ opinions about her, okay? i’ve heard what they’ve been saying to you. I know that they’re the reason you’re feeling this sudden pressure to do even better. but trust me, jagiya, you’re very smart. you’re amazing. you could ace these tests without any preparation.” he paused to look at you clearly.

he took a breath and continued. “no one I know is smarter than you. you deserve a huge break too. now, you can’t argue with me. here’s what we’re going to do: i’ll come over. i’ll help you fall asleep. and you will sleep. okay?”

you forced yourself to keep the tears from streaming down your face. with a shaky breath, and a sudden realisation that what you were doing for the past few weeks was entirely wrong, you spoke clearly.

“i’m sorry, hyune.”

“don’t ever apologise to me, jagiya. let me come over.”

you nodded as he cut the call.

after ten minutes, you heard the front door open. some pleasantries were exchanged between your parents and hyunjin, and he quickly made his way up to your room.

“you wrapped up everything?” he smiled, looking at your tidy room without any traces of your usual study supplies. “good.”

you smiled.

he motioned at you to get under the covers. he slid in beside you, which wasn’t uncommon since you grew up together and shared a bed lots of times.

“I already told your parents that I was here for another sleepover. don’t worry, and just sleep, okay?” he whispered. he moved around a little to switch off all the lights off except your fairy lights. you nodded and looked at him in happiness.

“thank you, hyunjin. so much. I really mean it.” you said, smiling at him.

“anything for my best girl,” he grinned. “need anything else?”

“well… since i’m being forced to go to bed way before my bed time…”

“hm?”

“sing to me?” you asked quietly.

he smiled softly and nodded.

he began singing a song by day6 as your eyes began to flutter shut peacefully; the last scene before you were hyunjin’s beautiful eyes staring down into your own.

by the time you were almost asleep, you felt him press a gentle kiss into your hair. “sleep well, my angel. sweetest dreams for my sweet girl.”

hyuneskkami © 2025 | don’t repost my works onto other platforms, or edit and post them even on tumblr, without asking me first • don’t steal my works, steal my heart instead • reblogs and comments are more than appreciated !

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scarlet789 · 5 days ago

Text

Atleast kiss the brick before throwing it at me

𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘮𝘢

pairing- kim seungmin x reader summary- when the world is given 21 days until total destruction, two friends experience the kind of love that never got a chance. genre- sci-fi, slow-burn romance, angst word count- ~2.6k warnings- end-of-world themes, emotional intensity, mild language, grief, existential dread, implied death a/n- sorry sorry sorry sorry. im on this angsty writing streak right now plwase forgive me. also, if you've ever loved someone in silence until the end, this one's for you.

Three Weeks Prior — Impact Zero

The coffee machine made a noise like it was choking on gravel.

You leaned against the counter in the break room, arms folded, watching the old machine stutter through its final breath. The overhead lights buzzed faintly, casting a yellow tint across the white tile and metal countertops. Everything in this building felt slightly too old, slightly too used — like it had seen better years and was trying to hold on, just like the people inside it.

The mug in your hand had a faded logo on it: NAO — North Atlantic Observatory, your workplace and second home for the last four years. An isolated, high-security research facility perched on the northern coast, built to monitor orbital anomalies and space weather. Boring work most days. Too quiet. But stable.

Until recently.

You rubbed your eyes. The sun wasn’t even up yet. You hadn’t slept.

"Looks like it's finally giving up," came a familiar voice behind you.

You didn’t need to turn around to know it was Seungmin. You just let out a soft huff of a laugh.

"Same," you replied.

He came to stand next to you, setting his elbows on the counter, mirroring your tired posture. His hoodie was half-zipped over his standard-issue uniform, and there was a smudge of graphite on his jaw, probably from him resting his head on his hand while scribbling calculations again. You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye.

"You look like hell," you said.

"I aim for consistency." He smiled, but his eyes were tired too. “Also, this is my third shift in a row. I’m legally a ghost now.”

You handed him the mug. “Drink. It’s toxic, but it’s warm.”

He took it, fingers brushing yours for just a second too long. But you didn’t pull away, and neither did he. That was how it always was with you two — almost something, never said.

The silence settled again. There was something about the early hours, before the building came to life, that made everything feel fragile. And lately, fragile felt more like a warning than a mood.

“I checked the readings again,” you said quietly. “There’s still an anomaly near the asteroid belt.”

He didn’t answer immediately. Just sipped.

You glanced at him. “You think it’s real?”

He met your eyes, and his voice dropped. “I think… we’re not being told everything.”

You nodded once. That’s what scared you most.

A faint beep echoed from down the hall — the server room.

Then another. Louder.

Then, the sound that stopped everything: the intercom crackled to life.

“All personnel to stations. This is not a drill. Orbital threat confirmed. Impact trajectory locked. Impact Zero protocol activated. Estimated contact: 21 days. Repeat — this is not a drill.”

The hallway went still.

In the break room, the coffee machine gave a final wheeze and shut down completely.

You didn’t move at first. You were still holding the paper coffee cup, staring at the wall, not quite breathing.

“...No,” Seungmin said under his breath, huffing a laugh. “That’s not—there’s no way.”

You slowly turned your head toward the hallway. Monitors were lighting up outside the glass walls — red lines, looping trajectories, countdowns. Sirens began to flicker faintly through the base, not full blaring yet, just the beginning pulses of something much bigger.

People started rushing down the hall. A tech assistant dropped her tablet. Someone was already shouting into a radio.

You felt it in your chest before your brain caught up: that sinking, weightless drop of understanding.

It wasn’t a glitch. It wasn’t hypothetical. It was real.

“Seungmin,” you said softly.

He was still staring at the floor, the cup forgotten in his hands. His face had gone pale.

When he looked at you, it was the first time in all your years here that he wasn’t joking, wasn’t sarcastic, wasn’t playing anything off.

Just scared. “You don’t think—” he started, voice thin.

“I do,” you said. “I think this is it.”

And suddenly the room felt colder. The air thinner.

He nodded once. Swallowed hard. "Okay."

Then he said it again, quieter. "Okay."

20 Weeks To Impact —

The base fell apart fast after the confirmation.

People ran. Some in blind panic. Others with cold resolve. The top brass left first — whisked away on private jets, secure transports, escorted under military silence. Then the families, the ones with connections. Then the hopefuls, the cowards, the ones who couldn’t face it.

You stayed.

So did Seungmin.

No one told you to. There wasn’t a command, not even a goodbye. Just... silence. The lights in the hallway flickered one morning, and no one came to fix them. You stopped getting updates from command. Coffee stopped brewing. One by one, the monitors went dark.

You and Seungmin stayed in the operations wing, sleeping in shifts, monitoring what little data still came through. It felt pointless, but it was better than waiting with empty hands.

You didn’t talk about the meteor at first. You filled the silence with sarcasm, inside jokes, trading terrible snack bar finds like currency. But your laughs were quieter. Your eyes lingered longer.

One night, Seungmin found an old vinyl tucked in storage. You had no idea why it was there — maybe someone thought the end of the world should have a soundtrack. He didn’t say anything. Just put it on, turned up the volume, and nodded toward you like it was an invitation.

You danced. Badly. Quietly.

He watched you with this look. Like he was memorizing.

You noticed.

14 Days To Impact —

The outside world started showing signs of rot. The power grid flickered. Civilian broadcasts stopped. Riots spread through cities. Roads clogged with cars that never moved again.

From the base, you could see smoke on the horizon almost every day. Not close enough to reach you. But close enough to remind you.

Seungmin stopped making jokes.

You spent a lot of time on the roof.

He started bringing you coffee — the last of it, rationed with ceremony. Some nights you’d find him already there, staring at the stars, and he’d pass you a chipped mug without speaking.

Once, after a long silence, he asked: “Do you think we would’ve made it, if none of this happened?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.

But you stayed next to him until morning.

7 Days To Impact —

By the third week, the base was a ghost. The doors stayed open. Wind blew dust across the lobby. No one was coming back.

There was no plan anymore. No broadcasts. No hopeful countdowns. Just a sky that grew redder every night.

You stopped checking the data. You started living in the in-between moments — eating together in the empty mess hall, flipping through old books, playing music through speakers with frayed wires.

One night, you woke from a nightmare — fire, sky splitting in half — and walked out into the hallway barefoot, your chest tight.

Seungmin was already there. Sitting on the cold floor, head back against the wall, eyes wide open.

You sat next to him.

Neither of you said anything.

You leaned your head on his shoulder.

He didn’t move away.

Two Days To Impact —

Now, it's quiet.

The kind of quiet that wraps around your bones. No sirens. No more data. No more pretending.

You and Seungmin packed small bags. Not because you were going anywhere — just because it felt like doing something.

You didn’t ask where he wanted to go.

He just said, “There’s a place I used to go when I was a kid. A drive-in theater just outside town. Haven’t been there in years.”

You nodded.

He looked at you like he was asking for more than permission.

You nodded again.

Tomorrow, you’d drive out together. Watch a movie that isn’t playing. Under stars that are about to disappear.

And maybe — finally — say all the things you never let yourselves say before.

Day Of The Impact — 2 Hours Until Impact

The sky looked wrong.

Too bright, too red — like the sun had cracked open and started bleeding. Clouds moved strangely, fast and low, as if the world knew what was coming and couldn’t sit still.

But the drive-in was still there.

It sat at the edge of the world.

Not literally — just on the edge of what used to be town. But now, with the roads abandoned and the sky sick with color, it felt like the end of everything. The rusted sign out front still read COSMIC DRIVE-IN in broken letters, and beneath it, someone had spray-painted: “Now Showing: THE END”.

Seungmin parked the car right in front of the big screen.

It leaned, weathered and stained by time, but still standing. Behind the projection booth, the hills rolled out into darkening gold, shadows stretching across the horizon. The sky looked bruised — reds and purples and sick yellows blending into something unnatural.

He turned off the engine.

Neither of you moved for a moment.

“Give me ten minutes,” he said, grabbing the backpack and hopping out.

You stayed seated, eyes scanning the horizon. The clouds pulsed faint orange. Your chest was tight with something massive and unnamed.

Ten minutes later, a sudden flicker lit up the screen.

And then — impossibly — the projector began to hum.

You stepped out, stunned, watching grainy black-and-white spill across the canvas.

Casablanca

Seungmin stood by the shack-turned-booth like it was something sacred. The screen flickered behind him, a grainy beam of black and white cutting across the gravel lot. He crossed his arms, the corners of his mouth tugged up in a smile that looked half triumphant, half broken — like a man who just held a crumbling world together with duct tape and spit and sheer willpower.

He walked back to you, slow and steady, never taking his eyes off your face. Like he was memorizing it.

“I figured...” he said quietly, voice rough with exhaustion and something deeper, “if we’re going out… we should go out watching something that knew how to end.”

You tried to smile, but your lip trembled. Your whole body did.

“God, Seungmin,” you breathed, barely audible. “I’m so fucking scared.”

His face changed — just slightly, just enough. Like a crack down the center of a mask that had held too long. He closed the distance between you in a single heartbeat and wrapped his arms around you like he meant to fight the sky itself.

“I know,” he whispered into your hair, his voice shaking. “Me too.”

You held on like the world was already slipping, like the ground might fall away if you let go. Around you, the gravel lot was still. The air thick with the static of endings. On the screen, Bogart told Ingrid goodbye — again, like he always did. For the hundredth time. Maybe the last time.

You pulled back just far enough to see Seungmin’s eyes. He was already looking at you like he’d never seen anything else.

“I should’ve said this before,” you whispered. “I should’ve said it a thousand times.”

His hands stayed on your waist. Gentle. Solid.

“Then say it now.”

Your throat tightened. The words hurt coming out, like your lungs weren’t built to carry them.

“I love you.”

It broke something open between you — not cleanly, not neatly, but like a dam splitting at the seams. Seungmin didn’t flinch. He didn’t even blink.

“I’ve loved you,” he said, voice cracked and raw, “since the first time you brought me that godawful coffee and told me my hair looked like a dying poodle.”

You choked out a laugh that turned into a sob.

“Since you didn’t leave. Since every night we waited and wondered and watched the sky, and you were still here. You always stayed.”

And then you kissed him.

Not like the movies — there was no slow lean-in, no swelling music. It was desperate. Messy. Your teeth bumped. Your tears mixed. It was the kind of kiss people don’t survive without. The kind that says if we go, we go like this.

You didn’t stop there.

In the front seat of the car, with the old blanket pulled over half your bodies, skin pressed to skin, you clung to each other like drowning things. No words. Just gasps, touches, sobs muffled against each other’s throats. His hands trembled against your spine. Your fingers curled in his hair like lifelines. You made promises without saying them — promises the world didn’t have time left to keep.

Above you, the stars were bleeding red.

But for one hour, it didn’t matter.

For one hour, there was only the warmth of him, the sound of his breathing, your heartbeat syncing with his.

After, you lay curled against his chest, your head rising and falling with every breath he still managed to take. Casablanca was long over. The screen was blank. The speakers had gone quiet.

The silence felt like it was holding its breath.

And then you felt it.

That low, distant rumble.

Not a sound — not really. More like a presence. A vibration that moved through your bones like thunder in the marrow. You both sat up slowly, instinct holding you still.

Far on the horizon, the sky had torn. A jagged seam of light split the clouds, too bright to be natural. Too vast. It didn’t spread — it consumed.

You reached for Seungmin’s hand. He caught it instantly, but his fingers were shaking. Yours were too. You held on like it would anchor you. Like it could undo what was coming.

Seungmin looked at you like you were the last real thing left in the world.

“I’m not scared anymore,” he said, and it sounded like the end of something.

Tears ran down your cheeks, hot and endless.

“I am,” you whispered.

He leaned in. Forehead pressed to yours. Eyes wet, but steady.

“I got you,” he said.

The light swelled.

Everything turned gold and white and endless, like the stars had come down all at once to burn the earth clean.

You didn’t look away from him.

He kissed you, one final time.

No fear. No future. Just now.

And when the sky came down, he held you like he could hold it back.

Year 147 A.I.Z (After Impact Zero)

The road was cracked, but it held.

Weeds had burst through the asphalt in places, curling like green veins across what used to be highways. A rusted sign leaned sideways at the turnoff: — COSMIC DRIVE-IN — CLOSED —

No one had come here in years.

The girl stepped out of the all-terrain rover, dust kicking up beneath her boots. She was young — maybe twenty. Hair pulled back in a knot, a thick canvas jacket with a radiation patch on the sleeve. She carried a small camera slung across her chest.

She walked slowly across the gravel lot.

The metal speaker poles were still there, bent and sun-bleached. The snack shack was nothing more than a shell, but the screen stood — faded, cracked down one side, but standing.

She lifted her camera and took a photo.

Inside the booth, everything was half-rotted. Dust covered the console, but the projector still sat like a sleeping relic. She brushed off the label:

Model 1973 | Last Run Logged: April 11

She paused. Eyes narrowed. Something glinted under a drawer.

A tape. A movie. Casablanca.

Old, black, and barely labeled. The words scratched in shaky handwriting:

“our last night — s.”

She took it.

The moment felt sacred.

As she turned to leave, she noticed two names, scratched into the wall of the booth with what looked like a key:

Y/N & Seungmin Final Show.

She didn’t know who they were.

But when she got back to the rebuilt city, she’d restore the film. She’d watch it. She’d tell people.

And they would remember.

Title Card

LAST NIGHT AT THE CINEMA

They didn’t make history. But they made a moment.

One screen. One love. One ending.

April 11 — The world fell silent. But their story played until the final light.

“This was my best scene.”

skz general: @velvetmoonlght @scarlet789 @estella-novella @nightmarenyxx @channiesluvrclub

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scarlet789 · 5 days ago

Text

𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 도망가다

pairing- stray kids hyung line x reader summary- given a situation, you and member are running away together. whats the reason and how will it go for you? word count- 1.2k warnings- criminal behavior (theft, fraud, implied violence), toxic family dynamics/emotional neglect mentioned, mentions of law enforcement, surveillance, accidental pregnancy, soft angst/comfort-heavy romance, a/n- so i feel for a little darker themes i have to say: they’re all fictional—built on what-if scenarios and deep, messy emotions. Enjoy the ride !!!!!!! ahhh maknae line

CHAN — "𝘉𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘊𝘭𝘺𝘥𝘦"

ride or die crime partners

The motel TV hums with static as you count stacks of stolen cash on the bed. Chan’s leaning against the wall, shirt half-buttoned, gun tucked in the waistband of his slacks like it belongs there. “We're legends now,” he says with a crooked smile, tossing your passport into your lap. New name. New start. You grin, blood still rushing from the getaway. “Think they'll catch us?” He laughs once, low and reckless. “They can try.”

You and Chan are smooth-talking, quick-moving, adrenaline-chasing chaos. But damn, you’re good together.

He does the planning—routes, disguises, backstories. You do the talking—charming your way past guards, sweet-talking anyone who gets suspicious.

After a job, he always takes care of you first: checking for bruises, giving you water, making sure you’re still riding the high, not the crash.

You steal a sports car once, just for fun. He lets you drive it. You’re laughing like you’re 16 again, no rules, no regrets.

In the quiet, he gets soft—telling you how he used to dream of this kind of freedom. Not the crime, but you. The “us against the world” kind of love.

One day, you watch the sunset from a rooftop in Prague. “If we go down,” you say, “we go down together.”

He grins, presses his forehead to yours. “You and me, baby. Until the end.”

with him its...

Lipstick-stained passports – new identities, new lives, but still the same reckless love

Bullet casings in a jewelry box – mementos of your past jobs, hidden like treasures

Motor oil on his hands, lip gloss on yours – partners, opposites, balanced chaos

A black duffel with multiple IDs and one photo of you two – the only constant in every version of your lives

Champagne in a convenience store cup – celebration anywhere, any time—because you survived again

MINHO — “𝘘𝘶𝘪𝘦𝘵 𝘎𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘣𝘺𝘦”

healing from toxic pasts

You leave a note on the table. Nothing dramatic—just “I’m sorry. I can’t stay.” Outside, Minho’s waiting in his car, engine idling. He doesn’t say a word when you slide into the passenger seat, just reaches over and puts your hand in his. The road ahead is quiet. No sirens. No calls. No one yelling for you to come back. Just the soft sound of tires on pavement, and Minho whispering, “We’re gonna be okay.”

The first few days feel surreal. No screaming. No walking on eggshells. Just you, Minho, and silence that finally feels safe.

You stay in a tiny apartment with peeling walls and creaky floors. He makes it feel like home in a week—plants in the windows, a cat named Peach, warm soup on the stove.

He doesn’t talk much about what you left behind. Neither of you do. But when you wake up crying, he’s there. Quiet. Holding your hand until it passes.

He falls asleep with his head on your lap some nights, a soft smile on his face. You trace your fingers through his hair and think, I never thought peace could look like this.

He takes photos of you when you’re not looking. Says it’s so he “won’t forget this part of life.” You pretend not to notice, but you always smile.

One night, out of nowhere, he says, “Thank you for leaving with me.”

You whisper back, “Thank you for giving me something to run to.”

with him its...

Cat fur on everything – home is where Peach sleeps

Soup simmering at 3AM – because trauma doesn't keep regular hours, and neither does care

An old Polaroid tucked in your wallet – the only photo from the day you left

A chipped mug you both fight over – mundane arguments now feel like love

Sticky notes on the fridge with hand-drawn hearts – “Bought snacks,” “Feed Peach,” “I love you.” No grand speeches—just daily proof

CHANGBIN — “𝘞𝘦 𝘙𝘢𝘯 𝘉𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘕𝘰 𝘖𝘯𝘦 𝘉𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘜𝘴”

"framed" lovers on the run

The moment the security camera photo hit the news, you knew it was over. Your phone rang once—Changbin. “Pack a bag,” he said. “Only what you need. I’ll be there in ten.” Now you’re in the backseat of a stolen car, hands shaking, his hoodie draped over your shoulders. "Do you trust me?" he asks, eyes locked on the road. You don’t even hesitate. “Yeah.” The city lights blur behind you like a life you don’t want anymore.

Every gas station is a risk. Every knock at the door makes you freeze. But Changbin always stays calm—for you.

He keeps your fake IDs in his boot and a map in the glovebox, tracing out routes like you’re in a spy movie.

When things get really bad, he’ll hold your face, eyes locked on yours, and remind you: “We didn’t do anything wrong. Don’t let them make you forget that.”

In between the chaos, he finds little ways to bring you peace—humming your favorite song, buying your favorite snack, brushing your hair behind your ear.

He tells you once, under a thunderstorm sky, “If we have to spend our lives running, I’ll still choose you every time.”

You start to believe it. Even when the world wants to paint you guilty, you know what’s real—him, and the way he loves you like it’s all he’s got.

with him its...

Cigarettes out the window – not because you smoke, but because someone else does. And that means you’re being followed

Cash in a shoebox under the passenger seat – your safety net, escape fund, lifeline

Burner phones wrapped in napkins – disposable lives, but still texting each other goodnight

A cracked mirror in a motel bathroom – distorted reflections, unclear futures

His hoodie always on you – his way of keeping you safe, even when he can’t protect you from everything

HYUNJIN — “𝘞𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘔𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘛𝘰, 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘞𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘥”

accidental pregnancy + quiet escape

You stare at the test in your hand like it’s not real. One pink line, two pink lines, whatever—it doesn’t matter. Your world’s already changed. Hyunjin walks in barefoot, hair damp from the shower, and freezes when he sees your face. You don’t speak. You don’t have to. He crosses the room in two steps, takes the test from your hand, and says, “Okay. We’re leaving.” Just like that. Like love is enough.

Hyunjin doesn’t freak out. Doesn’t question. The second he sees you’re scared, he shifts into full comfort mode.

He books a train ticket to a quiet town by the sea. No paparazzi, no pressure. Just you, him, and the sound of waves.

He paints all the time now—your growing belly, your sleepy smile, your fingers wrapped around a coffee mug.

Talks to the baby like they’re already here: “Hey, little one. Your mom’s the strongest person I know.”

He’s overprotective but sweet about it—holding your hand when you walk, cooking every meal, refusing to let you lift anything heavier than a book.

You cry one night, scared of what’s next. He just holds you and says, “I don’t know how we’ll do it. But we will. Together.”

with him its...

Paint stains on your clothes – you stopped caring if you get messy; life’s already full of color now

Socks hung out to dry on a line – homemade life, gentle routines, building something quiet but real

A worn baby book at the bedside – filled with notes in Hyunjin’s handwriting, doodles in the corners

His rings left in a ceramic bowl – he takes them off now, wants nothing flashy, just you and peace

Sunlight through gauze curtains – a new kind of morning, one that doesn’t rush you

skz general: @velvetmoonlght @scarlet789 @estella-novella @nightmarenyxx @channiesluvrclub

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scarlet789 · 5 days ago

Text

Seems like someone woke up and chose violence

You'll be hearing from my lawyer, I'll be using you for emotional distress 🫶🏻

𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘮𝘢

Three Weeks Prior — Impact Zero

The coffee machine made a noise like it was choking on gravel.

Until recently.

You rubbed your eyes. The sun wasn’t even up yet. You hadn’t slept.

"Looks like it's finally giving up," came a familiar voice behind you.

You didn’t need to turn around to know it was Seungmin. You just let out a soft huff of a laugh.

"Same," you replied.

"You look like hell," you said.

"I aim for consistency." He smiled, but his eyes were tired too. “Also, this is my third shift in a row. I’m legally a ghost now.”

You handed him the mug. “Drink. It’s toxic, but it’s warm.”

He took it, fingers brushing yours for just a second too long. But you didn’t pull away, and neither did he. That was how it always was with you two — almost something, never said.

The silence settled again. There was something about the early hours, before the building came to life, that made everything feel fragile. And lately, fragile felt more like a warning than a mood.

“I checked the readings again,” you said quietly. “There’s still an anomaly near the asteroid belt.”

He didn’t answer immediately. Just sipped.

You glanced at him. “You think it’s real?”

He met your eyes, and his voice dropped. “I think… we’re not being told everything.”

You nodded once. That’s what scared you most.

A faint beep echoed from down the hall — the server room.

Then another. Louder.

Then, the sound that stopped everything: the intercom crackled to life.

“All personnel to stations. This is not a drill. Orbital threat confirmed. Impact trajectory locked. Impact Zero protocol activated. Estimated contact: 21 days. Repeat — this is not a drill.”

The hallway went still.

In the break room, the coffee machine gave a final wheeze and shut down completely.

You didn’t move at first. You were still holding the paper coffee cup, staring at the wall, not quite breathing.

“...No,” Seungmin said under his breath, huffing a laugh. “That’s not—there’s no way.”

People started rushing down the hall. A tech assistant dropped her tablet. Someone was already shouting into a radio.

You felt it in your chest before your brain caught up: that sinking, weightless drop of understanding.

It wasn’t a glitch. It wasn’t hypothetical. It was real.

“Seungmin,” you said softly.

He was still staring at the floor, the cup forgotten in his hands. His face had gone pale.

When he looked at you, it was the first time in all your years here that he wasn’t joking, wasn’t sarcastic, wasn’t playing anything off.

Just scared. “You don’t think—” he started, voice thin.

“I do,” you said. “I think this is it.”

And suddenly the room felt colder. The air thinner.

He nodded once. Swallowed hard. "Okay."

Then he said it again, quieter. "Okay."

20 Weeks To Impact —

The base fell apart fast after the confirmation.

You stayed.

So did Seungmin.

You and Seungmin stayed in the operations wing, sleeping in shifts, monitoring what little data still came through. It felt pointless, but it was better than waiting with empty hands.

You danced. Badly. Quietly.

He watched you with this look. Like he was memorizing.

You noticed.

14 Days To Impact —

The outside world started showing signs of rot. The power grid flickered. Civilian broadcasts stopped. Riots spread through cities. Roads clogged with cars that never moved again.

From the base, you could see smoke on the horizon almost every day. Not close enough to reach you. But close enough to remind you.

Seungmin stopped making jokes.

You spent a lot of time on the roof.

He started bringing you coffee — the last of it, rationed with ceremony. Some nights you’d find him already there, staring at the stars, and he’d pass you a chipped mug without speaking.

Once, after a long silence, he asked: “Do you think we would’ve made it, if none of this happened?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.

But you stayed next to him until morning.

7 Days To Impact —

By the third week, the base was a ghost. The doors stayed open. Wind blew dust across the lobby. No one was coming back.

There was no plan anymore. No broadcasts. No hopeful countdowns. Just a sky that grew redder every night.

You stopped checking the data. You started living in the in-between moments — eating together in the empty mess hall, flipping through old books, playing music through speakers with frayed wires.

One night, you woke from a nightmare — fire, sky splitting in half — and walked out into the hallway barefoot, your chest tight.

Seungmin was already there. Sitting on the cold floor, head back against the wall, eyes wide open.

You sat next to him.

Neither of you said anything.

You leaned your head on his shoulder.

He didn’t move away.

Two Days To Impact —

Now, it's quiet.

The kind of quiet that wraps around your bones. No sirens. No more data. No more pretending.

You and Seungmin packed small bags. Not because you were going anywhere — just because it felt like doing something.

You didn’t ask where he wanted to go.

He just said, “There’s a place I used to go when I was a kid. A drive-in theater just outside town. Haven’t been there in years.”

You nodded.

He looked at you like he was asking for more than permission.

You nodded again.

Tomorrow, you’d drive out together. Watch a movie that isn’t playing. Under stars that are about to disappear.

And maybe — finally — say all the things you never let yourselves say before.

Day Of The Impact — 2 Hours Until Impact

The sky looked wrong.

Too bright, too red — like the sun had cracked open and started bleeding. Clouds moved strangely, fast and low, as if the world knew what was coming and couldn’t sit still.

But the drive-in was still there.

It sat at the edge of the world.

Seungmin parked the car right in front of the big screen.

He turned off the engine.

Neither of you moved for a moment.

“Give me ten minutes,” he said, grabbing the backpack and hopping out.

You stayed seated, eyes scanning the horizon. The clouds pulsed faint orange. Your chest was tight with something massive and unnamed.

Ten minutes later, a sudden flicker lit up the screen.

And then — impossibly — the projector began to hum.

You stepped out, stunned, watching grainy black-and-white spill across the canvas.

Casablanca

He walked back to you, slow and steady, never taking his eyes off your face. Like he was memorizing it.

“I figured...” he said quietly, voice rough with exhaustion and something deeper, “if we’re going out… we should go out watching something that knew how to end.”

You tried to smile, but your lip trembled. Your whole body did.

“God, Seungmin,” you breathed, barely audible. “I’m so fucking scared.”

“I know,” he whispered into your hair, his voice shaking. “Me too.”

You pulled back just far enough to see Seungmin’s eyes. He was already looking at you like he’d never seen anything else.

“I should’ve said this before,” you whispered. “I should’ve said it a thousand times.”

His hands stayed on your waist. Gentle. Solid.

“Then say it now.”

Your throat tightened. The words hurt coming out, like your lungs weren’t built to carry them.

“I love you.”

It broke something open between you — not cleanly, not neatly, but like a dam splitting at the seams. Seungmin didn’t flinch. He didn’t even blink.

“I’ve loved you,” he said, voice cracked and raw, “since the first time you brought me that godawful coffee and told me my hair looked like a dying poodle.”

You choked out a laugh that turned into a sob.

“Since you didn’t leave. Since every night we waited and wondered and watched the sky, and you were still here. You always stayed.”

And then you kissed him.

You didn’t stop there.

Above you, the stars were bleeding red.

But for one hour, it didn’t matter.

For one hour, there was only the warmth of him, the sound of his breathing, your heartbeat syncing with his.

After, you lay curled against his chest, your head rising and falling with every breath he still managed to take. Casablanca was long over. The screen was blank. The speakers had gone quiet.

The silence felt like it was holding its breath.

And then you felt it.

That low, distant rumble.

Not a sound — not really. More like a presence. A vibration that moved through your bones like thunder in the marrow. You both sat up slowly, instinct holding you still.

Far on the horizon, the sky had torn. A jagged seam of light split the clouds, too bright to be natural. Too vast. It didn’t spread — it consumed.

You reached for Seungmin’s hand. He caught it instantly, but his fingers were shaking. Yours were too. You held on like it would anchor you. Like it could undo what was coming.

Seungmin looked at you like you were the last real thing left in the world.

“I’m not scared anymore,” he said, and it sounded like the end of something.

Tears ran down your cheeks, hot and endless.

“I am,” you whispered.

He leaned in. Forehead pressed to yours. Eyes wet, but steady.

“I got you,” he said.

The light swelled.

Everything turned gold and white and endless, like the stars had come down all at once to burn the earth clean.

You didn’t look away from him.

He kissed you, one final time.

No fear. No future. Just now.

And when the sky came down, he held you like he could hold it back.

Year 147 A.I.Z (After Impact Zero)

The road was cracked, but it held.

Weeds had burst through the asphalt in places, curling like green veins across what used to be highways. A rusted sign leaned sideways at the turnoff: — COSMIC DRIVE-IN — CLOSED —

No one had come here in years.

She walked slowly across the gravel lot.

The metal speaker poles were still there, bent and sun-bleached. The snack shack was nothing more than a shell, but the screen stood — faded, cracked down one side, but standing.

She lifted her camera and took a photo.

Inside the booth, everything was half-rotted. Dust covered the console, but the projector still sat like a sleeping relic. She brushed off the label:

Model 1973 | Last Run Logged: April 11

She paused. Eyes narrowed. Something glinted under a drawer.

A tape. A movie. Casablanca.

Old, black, and barely labeled. The words scratched in shaky handwriting:

“our last night — s.”

She took it.

The moment felt sacred.

As she turned to leave, she noticed two names, scratched into the wall of the booth with what looked like a key:

Y/N & Seungmin Final Show.

She didn’t know who they were.