#i write svt aus

[seungkwanhey]

I have to get more active here 😓 and i actually want to make friends but idk how to 😭😭

[waldau-archived]

Saw your are open for requests, since you write wonwoo soooo soooo well, maybe a little drabble or headcanon about reader and wonwoo first time sleeping (not having sex, just purely fluff cuddle and sleep) together would be good in this rainy season here in my tropical country.

Btw SEATED for the longer fics😁

cuddles — jeon wonwoo | 1,450 words | fluff

TROPICAL COUNTRY ANON MY SINCEREST APOLOGIES I STILL HOPE IT'S RAINING WHERE YOU ARE. i love the rains and i'm sorry i didn't get inspired in time to write something that i like, but i really hope you see this!

gender neutral reader. warnings: reader is a bit unsettled by the sound of thunder (not actually self-projection for once).

“do you have to go?” wonwoo asks as you search for the remote to pause the movie, credits rolling on the screen.

you stare at him, trying to come up with a response. more specifically, you’re wondering if he’s implying what you think he’s implying. “i mean…isn’t it late? and don’t i always leave around this time?”

“you do,” he says, leaning over you to take out the remote that’s wedged between two cushions, and you swear your heart skips a beat. “but you could change that.”

“are you…asking…”

“it’s raining, too,” he says, a hopeful smile on his face. “if you really want to leave, i can drop you home, but i think i’d really like it if you…stayed.”

and that’s how you find yourself by wonwoo’s side in his bathroom, holding a spare toothbrush he handed you as he brushes his teeth. you’re vaguely aware that toothpaste is dripping down your brush and onto your hand as you watch him through the mirror, while also considering the fact that is way too domestic to be doing with someone you’ve been dating for two months.

but you can’t stop thinking about how…soft he looks. his hair is wept back from his forehead, no longer neatly styled like it had been earlier in the day, but still making him look very handsome. he’s wearing an oversized hoodie with sweatpants. you can’t help but wonder what you’ll look like, wearing it.

the thought immediately flusters you so much that you look anywhere but at him, and yet you can see him glance at you through the mirror now.

“want to tell me what you were thinking about?”

you refuse to grace his question with an answer and hurry up with your routine, skin feeling a bit cooler when you’re done washing your face. you pat it dry with the towel wonwoo’s given you, and when you turn around, there’s a shirt and a pair of sweatpants sitting on the counter.

even though it’s just basic decency, making sure you don’t go to sleep in your jeans tonight, it’s still thrilling to see his clothes being perfectly oversized on you. you step out of the bathroom a bit nervously, not having heard any sound from him in the past minute. but wonwoo’s lying on the bed, looking at his phone. when he sees you, there’s a smile on his face. he rolls to his side and watches you shut the door and come over to where he’s resting.

“what is it?” you ask, a little self-conscious. you’re not yet used to the — for lack of a better word — adoring gazes he gives you whenever he sees you. he’s verbal with his affection, too, always letting you know how good he thinks you look, or how happy he is that you’re spending your time with him, but he’s even better with his actions. which is what makes you think this is one of those moments.

“nothing,” he says, putting his phone on the stand.

“then why were you looking at me like that?” you ask, sitting down on the bed and swinging your legs over so that you’re comfortably settled.

“you just…you look really good in my clothes.”

it takes everything in you not to turn and hide your face in the pillow at that. you’re still not used to how blunt he is, and how he means every word he says to you. you’d known this about him before you started dating him, but now that you’re actually dating him, you’re getting to see a side of him you didn’t know existed.

“yeah? maybe i should wear your hoodie, then,” you tease instead.

“i hope you do,” he says, putting his glasses away and getting under the covers, motioning for you to do the same. you swear your brain has short-circuited as you get underneath the covers as well. his covers are as warm as the ones you have at home, and you remember he mentioned he runs cold. same as you, then.

you lie there for a minute or two, getting used to each other’s proximity, before wonwoo speaks up.

“tell me if this is okay,” he says, before inching closer and resting a large hand on your stomach. you can feel your breath catch as his hand inches its way around your waist and pulls you a bit closer. “sweetheart?”

“mhm? i’m fine.” you are fine, but your poor heart isn’t.

“good. i don’t want to do anything you don’t want me to.”

as much as you appreciate how respectful he’s being, part of you wishes he was a bit less cautious. you’re okay with him. you trust him, and he knows it.

“i’m not made of glass, wonwoo,” you say, looking up at him from where you’re resting.

wonwoo takes in a breath and then pulls you into himself, letting your head rest on his chest. it’s only then that you realize his heart is beating fast, probably as fast as yours.

“wonwoo?”

“mm?”

“are you nervous right now?”

“how couldn’t i be? i have such a pretty person in my arms.”

you actually gasp and smack his chest at that. he only laughs — that deep, rumble-like laugh that made you like him so much. “aren’t we supposed to be sleeping? trying to, at least?”

“i’m finding it hard to sleep with you here.”

“…oh,” you say, happiness deflating a bit. “see, i told you���”

“no!” he exclaims, scrambling away enough to look you in the eyes. “i meant— i want to keep talking to you, but i also want to sleep, and it’s unlucky that we can’t do both at the same time.”

your heart flutters at that. “that’s…i wish we could do that, too.”

“good,” he says, settling back down. “then that’s what we’re going to do.” he adjusts the covers so that you’re resting comfortably. you do want to keep the conversation going, but wonwoo is perfectly warm, and the rain outside sounds like pleasant white noise that is lulling you deeper into tiredness.

“do you like the rain?” you ask, hand resting on his chest, gently tracing abstract patterns. like the ones you doodle when you’re on phone calls with him.

when he doesn’t reply for a while, you think you’ve spoken too softly, but then you feel the rumble in his chest as he speaks. “i do. i love how green it gets outside. and i love how it smells, too.”

you want to say the same, but a sudden boom of thunder makes you freeze and grip his hoodie rather tightly.

“sweetheart?” wonwoo asks instantly, concern palpable in his voice. “are you okay?”

“it’s nothing,” you say, but even you know it’s a lie when you don’t let go of the death grip you have on his hoodie.

it’s not even lightning. it’s somewhat of a stupid thing to be afraid of, yet you can’t help but feel helpless when the thunder booms again, louder than it did the first time.

“is it…the thunder? the sound of it? i promise i won’t judge you, sweetheart.”

you sigh. “it’s just…i’m not very fond of thunder. i don’t like how loud it gets. i’m not scared, really, i just don’t like the way it…”

“startles you?”

you nod, not wanting to look at him. you wonder what he’s thinking.

“that’s perfectly fine,” wonwoo says, voice soft as he pulls you closer into himself till his arms engulf your upper body and you’re surrounded only by him and his calm breathing, his warmth that’s currently your anchor. “i used to be scared of dogs because i got bitten once. but i’ve got seol now. you’ve seen her, haven’t you?”

you have. wonwoo’s shown you pictures of his dog back home, and she’s the most adorable thing you’ve seen.

“you’re not any weaker for not liking thunderstorms, you know. everyone has their thing. don’t worry about it when you’re with me. i can’t make it go away, but i can make sure you’re not too scared, okay?”

“are you always this romantic?”

you can feel more than hear wonwoo’s chuckle as it rumbles through his chest. you’ve never felt as safe as you do now, in a thunderstorm. you burrow yourself more into his hold, loving how his arm comes to wrap around your waist.

“sleep well,” he says.

“i—” love you, you want to say, but the words catch in your throat. you mean them with your entirety, even if they might be a bit premature. “you too. i’m so glad i’m here,” you say instead, leaning up to peck his cheek.

wonwoo kisses your head, arm tightening around you. “i’m so glad you’re here, too.”

taglist: @bookyeom @wootify @strnsvt @cloudycaramel @thepoopdokyeomtouched

@minnieminshi @nonononranghaee @hrts4hanniehae @viewvuu @bewoyewo

[seokminfilm]

angel | lee seokmin

🪄 pairing, lee seokmin x reader

🪄 warnings, non-idol au, biker!seokmin, one-night fling (NOT a one-night stand okay just to clarify), bad boy!seokmin (yes it gets a warning), forbidden romance, angst, one suggestive comment (if you miss it it's not even suggestive), morality struggle, kissing, mutual attraction, seokmin calls reader angel, one mention pinning against the wall (also needs a warning), seokmin is described to be hot, kind of plot-heavy??

🪄 summary, why was the only person who could give you respite in your suffocating, perfectionist world a rogue motorcyclist who kissed you last night?

🪄 author's note, long story short an anon of mine was like "hey you should do racer seokmin" and i was like "wowie yes!" and yeah 😭 this is how it came about! this may not be racer seokmin BUT the only good idea i had was with biker seokmin so....🤷 this may be on the longer side because i'm working on making my fics longer this year....i love the little drabbles i do, but i want smthn more than 1k 😛 anyways enjoy, and thank anon for the idea!

🪄 playlist, 01. riez, stromae | 02. la solassitude, stromae | 03. million dollar baby, tommy richman | 04. dancing in the flames, the weeknd | 06. a lonely night, the weekend

🪄 word count, 2.9k (LET'S GO) | for @kstrucknet

"What determines what's right or wrong?" He asked you, face a few hairs away from yours as you stared up at him, mouth parted just slightly. You didn't know the answer to that question, and you could honestly care less: the man who had your heart and soul ever since you bumped into him on the street now had his slender, very pretty fingers under your chin, lips seconds away from touching yours as he questioned you. Your back was pinned against the brick wall of the sweaty bar, Seokmin just inches away from you.

"How would I know the answer to that?" You echoed softly, sighing as you inhaled deeply. You could taste his cologne on your tongue, and you hadn't even kissed him yet. He was everywhere around you, it seemed.

The man smiled, lips curving into the prettiest thing you've ever seen as he chuckled. His voice was like honey, dripping with something that you were sure was amusement as he shook his head. His leather jacket crinkled with his movements, suave and taunting as your fingers felt the roughness of the material. It was just like him─rough.

"You tell me." You say, feeling a sudden rush of boldness coarse through your veins. Your hands find the back of his neck slowly, fingers playing with the dark hair on the nape of his neck. His breath is hot against your cheek, and you find it drawing you in, closing the distance in what would be your first kiss. Ever.

Even now, the thought was warm, playing on repeat in your head. You were a sheltered kid: your parents were very strict with what you wore, what you watched, how well you did in school, who you talked to─all of it.

From a young age, you knew nothing but good, morally correct things, and were taught to never dabble in things like one-time flings, dressing loosely, or cursing. You were what everyone would call a "good girl"─perfect in everything good, unable to do anything bad.

You were okay with it when you were younger, but now, you couldn't stand it. It made your blood boil knowing how truly restrained you were from living your own life.

"We're going out for the day! Stay indoors, and don't leave unless one of your friends knows where you are!" Your mom's voice comes as a bitter wake-up from downstairs, and you sigh, crashing back into your pillow as your neck burns. It's hot against your silk pillow, as if it's remembering what happened to it last night. If you tried hard enough, you could feel his soft lips pecking at your neck right now.

Sighing, you face the wall, tears brimming in your eyes you grip your pillowcase. It shouldn't hurt so much; it was a one-time thing, something you know you shouldn't have experienced. You were so confident, too─so ready to be defiant all of a sudden and go against everything you ever knew. Where was that confidence now?

As you heard your parents' car speed away, the house finally returned to its quiet state. Finally alone, you could take a breath, standing up as you let some light into your room.

It was decorated nicely, as your parents were well off, but it was devoid of anything that was truly you. It was generic, still resembling a child's room in a way; lavender-covered walls and sheets pulled the whole idea of a nursery together, and you frowned at the massive, pristinely white bunny rabbit still sitting perfectly in the corner of your room.

Silently putting your clothes on, you tugged at your hair, willing yourself to stop thinking of the man you had met last night. Everywhere you looked, you saw something that reminded you of him.

The gold necklace you had hanging on your vanity was scarily similar to the one the biker had worn last night, and you remembered intertwining it around your finger to bring him closer to you. The Mary Janes you had in the corner were identical to his loafers; you were surprised a person like him even had loafers.

Even the blush compact peeking from your bag matched his lips─plump and soft as he kissed your neck over and over.

You were daydreaming about this man, and you didn't even know his name. What would your mom say to that, especially with what type of man he is? What would happen to you if they found out you had been with a guy last night? If you had kissed him?

A knock at your door distracts you from all of those thoughts.

Wary of the unexpected knock, you run towards your window, eyes looking out above your driveway. The sky is still cloudy, dark and brooding from last night's downpour. You can even still see puddles in the street, swirling from the wind gusts dancing through the skies, and the clouds move in a slow migration eastward, painting the skies slowly and softly.

Finally getting a good look at the driveway below you, your eyes widen as you see a sleek black motorcycle expertly parked, helmet missing from the handles as another knock comes on your door.

You recognized that bike. You had just ridden it last night.

He was here? The man you had met last night─the man you had (kissed) last night─was here, at your home. He was knocking at the front door, for whatever reason. Your prayers had been answered, but you also knew that were was only going to be trouble from here.

Quickly slipping on your jacket, you tiptoe down the stairs, still terrified of what would happen if your parents returned. What would they think, seeing a motorcycle they didn't own sitting in their driveway? What would they think was happening to you?

Now standing in front of the ever-so-looming doorway, your hand shakily wrapped around the doorknob, telling yourself that you had one more chance to back away. One more chance to run back up to your room and pretend like no one was home. One more chance to choose to lock the mysterious stranger out of your home and consequently─out of your life.

Why would you take that chance?

You open the door.

"Hey, angel," The pet name comes naturally to him, rolling off of his tongue like it was your birth name. Before you can fight it, your body becomes hot, and you struggle to keep your composure, eyes wide as your voice trembles when you speak. "Why are you here?"

The man looks at you with a smirk on his face, holding up a familiar jacket. That jacket was the one you had left on his bike when he dropped you off at the park just ten minutes away from your house so you could walk the rest of the way there alone. You had forgotten your jacket, though, and your parents questioned you because of it.

"I returned your jacket for you." His smile showed teeth, blindingly white and straight as he handed it to you. It was surprisingly dry and smelled like his cologne. Like (his) cologne.

"Thank you, but─you shouldn't be here." You say, eyes darting down to the ground.

You knew more than anyone that you were going against your parents' rules, and if he knew that you were, he would probably never stop teasing you about it. You had a feeling that he already (knew) that he was risking it being here, and that he was just using it as another way to get high on adrenaline.

"I know that." The man's voice is sure, strong as he smirks at you. "I could care less about your parents, though. Fuck your parents." Hearing the curse fall from his lips so easily made your cheeks burn hot, and he catches onto this, taking one step closer to you to see if you'll back away. You don't, and he chuckles, taking your chin in his hand again.

"Suprised, angel? It's just a bad word." The pout in the mysterious biker's voice makes you want to get closer to him, but you will yourself against it, pulling away as you frown.

"You shouldn't be here. You shouldn't be on my porch. I don't even know your (name)." And you were right; you hadn't heard his name once last night, and you kept referring to him as 'the man' when you daydreamed about him. Hell, it was even more embarrassing to be dreaming about a guy you met and not even knowing his name.

"Seokmin. Lee Seokmin, at your service." The man you finally now know as (Seokmin) cheesily bows to you, causing you to give a little giggle as he glances up at you from his position. He stands to his full height again, towering over you easily as he smiles with that self-confident grin. "Now you know my name, angel."

Speechless, you look away, unable to go against him. Why does he make you want to abandon everything you know? You know he's bad for you; you know that he goes against everything that your parents had told you to stand for. It was remarkable, how good Seokmin was at making you hate the life you were in, just to want to be with him even more.

"You should come in," You say slowly, glancing at Seokmin's bike resting in your empty driveway. No one was home at the moment, and all the tattletale neighbors weren't at their houses either, meaning you were truly alone for the first time in what seemed to be forever.

Seokmin could come into your house right now, and no one would even know he was here if he left on time. The feeling that coursed through your veins was dangerous─it was hot, searing like bubbling oil as Seokmin smirked down at you. He was thinking the same thing you were: you could get into big trouble for this, but you were starting not to care if you got in trouble or not.

"Don't mind if I do." Seokmin steps into the lavish foyer quietly, slipping off his shoes and putting them beside your house shoes. The sight was domestic, and it made your cheeks heat up with how quickly you had to bash the idea.

"So," You pause, staring around at your empty house. You trusted Seokmin not to break anything─he was careful with things when he wanted to be, whether it was a glass pot, or your chin in his hand. You preferred to only think about the former. "What do you want to see first?"

Seokmin hums, as if he's thinking of his answers, but both you and him know he was just bluffing. He knew what he wanted to see.

"I wanna see your room, angel." Seokmin smiles at you, and you can't help but giggle, turning your nose to him exaggeratedly as you put on a haughty voice. "Of course you do─you uncouth rascal. What? You haven't seen a girl's room before?" You add sarcastically, and Seokmin shakes his head, grinning at you as his eyes crinkle up.

"I've seen plenty," Seokmin adds lowly, and you fall silent, neck heating up as your brain automatically seeks to read between the lines.

"Oh my god," You finally sigh out, and Seokmin giggles, letting you take his hand as you lead him upstairs to your room. Your hand burns in his grasp, and it shocks you at how much you don't want to pull away. The lingering thought that your parents could be back at any time burns in your mind, and you swallow, trying to push it away.

Once you open the door to your room, Seokmin's mouth is already opening, ready to say something to tease you. "Love the bunny." His tone is saccharine, and you blush, throwing a stray shoe at it as an act of defiance.

"Oh, shut up." Seokmin chuckles behind you, admiring the painted walls and clean carpet as he sighs. "Cleaner than my room would ever be."

Giggling, you sigh, approaching Seokmin again as that fleeting wave of confidence returns to you. Before you know it, your hands slide over Seokmin's shoulders and down his chest, slowly removing the familiar leather jacket from his body. His arms bulge from underneath his white tank top, and you swear you can see the dip of his abs from your vantage point. Seokmin is stunned, throat bobbing as you stare up at him with those boba eyes he can't resist.

"Fuck. Who knew the good girl could throw away her reputation just like that?" Seokmin's voice is teasing, warm and dangerous like lava as he smirks at your newfound boldness.

Shrugging, your lips puff up, pulling yourself closer to Seokmin as you take his chin in your hand, pulling it down to you.

"No one except you." You whisper, voice hot as Seokmin's lips capture yours in a searing hot kiss. It was like last night's kiss─warm, long, and expectant. It was as if he was waiting for something, waiting for you to confirm your want to him.

"You should take me on that bike again," You mumble, the sentence cut off by Seokmin's slow and sweet kisses. "Should I?" He questions innocently, and you nod, pulling away as Seokmin's playful eyes and matching smirk meet your gaze.

"You should. I want to feel the wind in my hair again." You say, and Seokmin smiles, sighing as he holds you to his chest. Even though you two only met just last night, no one would know if you didn't tell them─you looked like two young adults in love, soaking each other up like a sponge does water. You felt like your head belonged on his chest, and your body only felt right when he was hugging you.

"Do you want to feel the wind in your hair? Is that all you want to feel, angel?" Seokmin's question seems simple but has so many layers to it, but you fall silent, heart clenching at his words. What you said was partially a lie: you did want to feel the wind in your hair, but you just wanted to feel anything at that point. Anything would be better than feeling trapped in your life of perfection. You could breathe when you were with Seokmin. On his motorcycle, with your arms around his waist, you felt like you could let go and be who you truly were.

You could scream like a madman from the back of the bike and Seokmin wouldn't judge or laugh at you. He would laugh with you, probably mimicking your scream in a terrible impression of you. Even though your life was at risk in so many ways, you felt like you could trust yourself in Seokmin's hands. He would take care of you. He would love you. He would make you his priority. Not focused on perfection, or how you carried yourself, but just how you were─uncensored and finally free.

"Maybe." You say softly, refusing to have Seokmin see you cry. Blinking the tears away as fast as you can, you study Seokmin's sharp nose and thick eyebrows; you memorized every part of his face from your last meeting, everything down to the little mole on his cheek. Seokmin did the same to you, taking in your wide eyes and perfectly done hair. He adored you, even if he had just met you yesterday night.

Seokmin rarely got attached to people: he had learned to not get attached the hard way too many times, and now, it was just natural for him to lock everyone out. That's all he could do to protect himself from the real world. When you came into the picture, Seokmin did the same, only sticking around to watch over you while you were alone in the shady bar. When you had introduced yourself to him, Seokmin didn't think he'd get so attached to you like he did.

You were so innocent, so untouched by his side of the world─that it only drew him to you even more. So much was expected of you, and you seemed to expect a lot from him too─something that Seokmin had never experienced before. He was something more than just a misunderstood biker to you. You cared about what he did and who he talked to. You cared─you cared so much.

"Are you still in there?" You ask Seokmin softly, smiling as he nods slightly. He was so drawn into his thoughts that it was just as if he was on his motorcycle again, nothing but the night sky to talk to. He could be as loud or as quiet as he wanted to be with you. He loved that.

"Kiss me again." You whisper, pleading softly as your hands go right back to the place they did when you first kissed him. They tousle with the dark hair on the nape of his neck, pulling him closer to you as you're now just inches away from his sharp nose. Your eyes lock with his dark ones, and you glance down at his lips, soft and waiting. Waiting for you.

Finally, you close the distance, and you can feel it all again. The sprinkling of the rain on your cheeks. The passing whoosh of cars in the street behind you. The coolness of the brick wall supporting your back. The distant chatter of teenagers in the distance.

And─your personal favorite part─the feeling of Lee Seokmin's sweet lips on yours, warm with life, freedom, and desire.

[nonranghaes]

heads up! werewolf!reader. vampire!wonwoo.

there's something cute about going on walks with you. wonwoo holds his umbrella tight in his hands, the early morning sun thankfully mostly hidden behind clouds now. still, the shade helps him from feeling that burning itch travel across every single inch of his body, so he's happy to clutch an umbrella on a sunny day... even if it does net him weird looks.

you, on the other hand, are a single step ahead of him, happy as can be to be in the sunshine and fresh air again. you've been cooped up in his manor (yes, wonwoo has a manor: you've teased him for being the stereotypical vampire before) due to the onslaught of rain. as much as you love him, you still need some time outside during the daytime to stretch your legs and enjoy the warm sunlight.

no one seems to know how your relationship works, apparently. some people give him an odd look whenever both of you get revealed as what you are, usually mumbling something about being sworn enemies in the process. you joke that you're playing the long con. wonwoo always hides a smile when you do, firmly aware of the gold ring you have on a chain around your neck. it matches the one he wears on his thumb, only on a chain so you don't have to remove it during full moons.

"my love?" wonwoo calls out when you get a little too far from him. you turn with an excitement in your eyes, always so in love with the way he calls you. my love and my dear and my heart. occasionally my wolf. and when he's particularly affectionate (which, to be fair, wonwoo rarely uses terms of endearment since he prefers the intimacy of calling you by given name), you're his moon. just so he can see the way your nose scrunches up when you smile. he nods toward a tree in the nearby, shady enough he could set the umbrella aside. "can we rest for a bit?"

you nod, but zoom on ahead--only stopping for a quick second before you bolt across the street. he chuckles to himself as he follows after you. he lowers himself into the shade after setting aside his umbrella and bag, watching as you stretch out on the grass. you peek up at him, smiling still before you crawl over to him.

"it's nice out," you muse, before dropping your head into his lap. immediately, you begin to lean into his touch as he pats your head. "thank you for coming with me."

he chuckles. "why wouldn't i?"

you just point lazily overhead. "because you can literally always say no to the big ball of death, my little bookworm."

it earns a snort from him. "what?"

"don't you like it?" you grin up at him, content to tease him yet again. "my little mosquito didn't have the same ring."

although he rolls his eyes, he chuckles a moment later. you're a mess, a menace, but you're his and that's all that matters to him. he's easy to predict, though: he pulls a book out of his bag (a trashy novel this time--not the classic literature you've been watching him read through lately), and settles in against the tree while he rests his other hand on your head. when he peeks down at you, you've closed your eyes, fully resting now with him.

how cute. maybe he'll get a treat for you on the way home, just to tease you back.

[hanniedream]

thinking about co-worker wonwoo slow burn au where he's kinda mean blunt and cold and doesn't talk to anyone about anything other than work but he always seems to be slightly kinder towards you and everyone sees it but you (you think he's just shy and quiet and that he's not this mean person everyone thinks he is but it's really only bcs he's somehow always softer when it comes to you). never attends company gatherings unless he knows alcohol would get involved bcs he somehow knows you always get extra excited during these events and will end up drinking beyond your limit (it's totally not bcs he overheard your friends talking in the pantry about how you got shitfaced at a dinner once and was left to find your way back by yourself bcs everyone else was also drunk) and he wants to make sure you get home safely. ofc his excuse would always be "it's on the way" — not that he owes anyone an explanation, and if someone else tries to hitch a ride saying their place is close to yours his answer would always be "sorry, car is full ". would somehow always be seated quietly next to you for the entire event and doesn't engage in the conversation happening around him. he isn't trying to hide his growing feelings for you whenever someone points out how he treats you differently than how he treats others though, he's actually genuinely confused as to what's happening to himself and what all these strange emotions he's experiencing actually meant.

[horanghoe]

unfortunately for y'all, I'm insane

[wooahaeruby]

To all my BSH readers out there.

I have finished another notebook. Now we move onto my third notebook to write in.

Please listen to my aggressive grabbing of the notebooks, I giggled to myself.

My editor is scared :D

[savventeen]

.|X| THANKS FOR PLAYING |X|.

[synopsis] finals are finally over, and all you want is to keep yourself entertained on the lonely train ride home since your best friend crush isn't coming with you. you don't expect to find yourself becoming the main character in a horror story.

[main pairing] >> chan x gn!reader

[other ships] >> implied reader x ot12 friendship, background verkwan, implied minghao/seokmin [main cast] >> reader, chan, [redacted] [supporting cast] >> vernon, seungkwan, minghao [cameos] >> jeonghan, mingyu, seokmin, seungcheol

[rating] >> 16+ [genre] >> texting au, horror, angst, tragedy [status] >> COMPLETE 2023.06.12 - 2023.07.13 [update schedule] >> daily (sometime between 6-8PM PST) [series warnings] >> psychological horror, (supernatural) gaslighting, implied main character death (reader) [tags] >> slow burn (that technically never actually ignites oops), starts off silly, and then quite suddenly is Not, if you're looking for a happy ending this is not the story for you

[story background/set-up] >> (see episode 00)

[series tag] >> #thanksforplayingsvt

[author's note] i decided to split episodes by conversation, so episodes will average 3-5 screenshots, but there are a few with only single images. also, timestamps (when you see them) are very important :) also also, the only physical description about reader is that they have small fingers

[EPISODE GUIDE] .|| 00 ||.

Friday, December 15th .|| 01 ||. [⚡️💛 Channie 💛⚡️🦦🐈] .|| 02 ||. [+82 2 XXX XXX XXXX] .|| 03 ||. [🗡️🪱 hannie (would still love if a worm)] .|| 04 ||. [🎧🪢 hansOULMATE] .|| 05 ||. [🍊🔪 sollie’s future husband (evil) (💙)] .|| 06 ||. [+82 2 XXX XXX XXXX] .|| 07 ||. [+82 2 XXX XXX… and 5 others] .|| 08 ||. [🐶🍻 gyubert] .|| 09 ||. [📢🎤 seokminnie] .|| 10 ||. [+82 2 XXX XXX… and 5 others] .|| 11 ||. [🐸🍷 haohao] .|| 12 ||. [+82 2 XXX XXX... and 5 others] .|| 13 ||. [🐶🍻 gyubert] .|| 14 ||. [🍊🔪 sollie’s future husband (evil) (💙)] .|| 15 ||. [+82 2 XXX XXX... and 5 others] .|| 16 ||. [🏔🧸 cheollie weollie] .|| 17 ||. [+82 2 XXX XXX... and 5 others] .|| 18 ||. [written - 324 words] .|| 19-1 ||. [+82 2 XXX XXX XXXX] .|| 19-2 ||. [+82 2 XXX XXX XXXX] .|| 20 ||. [+82 2 XXX XXX XXXX] & [+82 2 XXX XXX... and 5 others] .|| 21 ||. [+82 2 XXX XXX... and 5 others] .|| 22 ||. [🐸🍷 haohao] .|| 23 ||. [+82 2 XXX XXX... and 5 others] .|| 24 ||. [+82 2 XXX XXX... and 5 others] .|| 25-1 ||. [calling: 🎧🪢 hansOULMATE] .|| 25-2 ||. [calling: 🎧🪢 hansOULMATE] .|| 26 ||. [+82 2 XXX XXX... and 5 others] .|| 27 ||. [+82 2 XXX XXX... and 5 others] .|| 28 ||. [written ~800 words] .|| 29 ||. [+82 2 XXX XXX XXXX]

After .|| 30 ||. [⚡️💛 Channie 💛⚡️🦦🐈] .|| 31 ||. [⚡️💛 Channie 💛⚡️🦦🐈] .|| 32 ||. [⚡️💛 Channie 💛⚡️🦦🐈] .|| 33 ||. [⚡️💛 Channie 💛⚡️🦦🐈]

Epilogue .|| 34 ||. [Unknown]

Bonus Material Q&A

[minisugakoobies]

Is this Fixer!Wonwoo's enemy or Internal Affairs!Jay's mentor?

Oh, that's Wonwoo's enemy for sure. Hotshot rookie for an agency like the DEA who has been tracking Wonwoo's associates. He's been shadowing Wonwoo for months, which is why Wonwoo ended up at OC's door looking for a hideout.

Now. I acknowledge that I always have a tendency to turn these things into a love triangle and that's probably a bad habit but... I can't get the idea out of my mind that Mingyu knows OC very well. Like he's her ex, still wounded from OC leaving him (that classic cop trope where he's too devoted to his job and his significant other can't deal), horrified to discover that Wonwoo's using her (or is he?), and maybe (definitely) jealous that she's chosen him instead. How far is he willing to go to bring Wonwoo down? 💕

[wavesmp3]

erased | wonwoo bday fic

—

wonwoo finds himself in a memory.

it’s from when the two of you went to the farm two hours out from the city to pick strawberries. “it’s one of my dreams”, you had told him at the start of summer, a sweet sticky drip of strawberry ice cream threatening to fall from the edge of your cone, “i’ve just always wanted to go strawberry picking”.

wonwoo looked up strawberry fields nearby that night.

the day he chose to go, he recalls, turned out to be the hottest day of the summer. a killer day that wonwoo could do without reliving, but then he sees you with your big floppy hat and impossibly bigger smile and forgets all about the sun and it’s relentless heat. you pick another strawberry, the biggest, brightest one you can find, shove it in wonwoo’s face with a sigh of contentment, and drop it in your basket without saying a word. forget the heat, wonwoo just loved this day with you.

the rest of the memory unfolds as he expects it will. you pick some berries, take a break for homemade strawberry shortcake from the farm, and return to the field to pick some more. it’s only when both of you are done picking, when you’ve washed the fresh fruit and are strolling along a path of orange trees, that wonwoo notices that something in this memory is…off.

“do you remember that fight we had in the store by your mom’s place over cheese?” you ask suddenly, fingering through your basket for a strawberry. you find the perfect one, take a bite, and pause to lick the juice from around your lips. wonwoo finds it cute, smiling absently, while wiping your face with a napkin. “the super petty one when she was throwing that party for…”

“for my aunt.” wonwoo finishes for you. he finds a nearby trash bin and tosses the now pink napkin into it. “yeah, i remember that, but—“

wonwoo stops in his tracks. this isn’t how it happened.

“what?” you ask nonchalantly, searching your basket for another strawberry. “did i remember it wrong?”

“yes-well, no, it…” wonwoo trails off, grasping at the faintest sense of consciousness.

“what?” you repeat.

“that hasn’t happened yet.”

and your face the moment he says it… it just crushes him.

how can he describe it? it’s like when you tell a kid that the tooth fairy isn’t real. it’s like sobering up and aging a thousand years all at the same time. it’s like you’ve been pretending something—this—is real for so long you forgot that it’s all in your head. forgot it’s just a memory, wonwoo’s memory. that this moment isn’t happening in real time. it happened a year ago. and that party you mentioned only happened three months after the two of you visited this strawberry field. and that in the summer of this year, you and wonwoo are broken up. and have been for nearly two months.

this is a memory. but in this moment, with betrayal painted all over your face, in every crack and blemish and wrinkle, wonwoo struggles to remember why he wanted to forget it in the first place.

“you’re erasing me.” you say, so quietly and so heartbroken wonwoo barely even hears it. this isn’t part of the memory from the strawberry field. this is real. it’s you speaking to him, staring at him like you did when you broke up. it’s you, or whatever is left of you.

wonwoo can’t even say the words. he just nods.

and now, staring at him, in a memory that isn’t yours, you don’t look betrayed anymore—you look ashamed. “i erased you first didn’t i?”

wonwoo doesn’t even feel angered by the reminder. he just feels so fatigued by it. two months before now and ten months after this memory in the strawberry field, you and wonwoo broke up. you ended the relationship, cut ties, and went your separate ways. a week ago, wonwoo received an email that you were erasing him, a procedure to rid your mind of certain memories. in this case, your memory of him and your relationship.

revenge, wonwoo thinks flatly, still fighting against the fog to remember why he’s getting the same procedure done to him. no, he corrects, redemption.

“say something.” you say at last, right in front of him, basket of strawberries forgotten. literally. figuratively.

and of course, all wonwoo can think to say is, “why’d you forget me?”

he’s been wondering all week.

“why’d we break up?” you counter. it’s not meant in a rhetorical or mean way. it’s a genuine question. this version of you wasn’t the one that parted ways with him.

the memory shifts then. slipping out of his fingers like sand, he doesn’t try grasping after it. but he does think: he doesn’t want to forget that day. he wanted the procedure, yes, but that day he wants to keep. like a memento. like a relic of what used to be.

a new scene materializes. his first run in with you post break up, at a park by the river. he was going for a walk. you were sitting at a bench. he wastes no time, there isn’t enough of it to waste anyways. he runs straight to the bench he found you at that day.

“wonwoo,” you call when you see him approaching the bench.

“why’d you forget me?” he asks again, more fervently, breathless and flushed, hands grasping at your wind breaker with a desperation that he’d find embarrassing if this was real life. but it isn’t. it’s a memory he’s trying like hell not to forget.

“i was just so hurt.” you answer. and of course, this isn’t how this run in actually went. in real life, wonwoo saw you sitting there, stared for a moment too long and then bolted in the opposite direction. “i’m so sorry.”

“what if i don’t want to forget you?” wonwoo can already feel you slipping away. this moment was so short in real life, the memory is fleeting. and the last thing he hears before the river rises up from behind him and carries his consciousness away with the current is

“what if i regret erasing you from me?”

the next memory, is a hard one. the moment he knew it was time to call it quits. that winter had been so cold. it seemed to ice over your relationship. and god, wonwoo held on so hard for all of spring, praying the ice would melt away by summer. but it’s may and your kiss still tastes like freezer burn.

“hold on to something other than me.” you tell him, laying next to him under the sheets. the sun hasn’t risen yet. it’s a sunday. that wonwoo remembers. “hold on to the day we met.” wonwoo does. it was a beach. it was a beautiful day. the water was still freezing. “meet me there again in the morning.”

“but i’ll have forgotten you.”

“wonwoo,” you say with such sweetness and love, it knocks the breath out of his chest, “we fell in love once before. we can do it again.”

“what if it ends the same way? what if we break our hearts again?”

the memory is fading again. wonwoo can feel it getting pulled from beneath his feet. he holds on to that beach. he holds on to that freezing water. he remembers, he remembers, he remembers, he

wake up.

when wonwoo wakes up that morning, it’s like any other day. like any other day except for the odd feeling in his chest urging him to go to the beach, and the voice in his head telling him, “what if it doesn’t.”

[cherries-jubileee]

when you're lost in the darkness. . .

pairing : kwon soonyoung x reader

au : the last of us

summary : seoul falls first to the infection, and five years is too long for one man to be alone.

cw : canon-typical violence (for tlou), character death, mentions of infection/viruses, hurt/comfort, also hurt/no comfort, the crushing weight of being alone in the apocalypse, mentions of blood/gore

wc : 8.3k

day zero

year one of the outbreak

soonyoung is slouched over the kitchen counter when you walk out of the bedroom that morning, desperately trying to figure out how to use your new keurig as quietly as possible. it’s far earlier in the morning than you’re used to, having to be wide awake before the sun has fully risen, but the law firm that’s hired you on is well-known and respectable, and you want to make a good impression. this new schedule, you tell yourself, is only temporary, and you’d be able to afford to sleep in just a little more a few months down the line.

“soonyoungie, you should be in bed right now,” you say, finally, after several moments of watching your partner struggle to find the power button to your coffee-maker. soonyoung doesn’t jump or act surprised that you’ve been standing behind him, but you note that he looks only the slightest bit apologetic, “the physician said you needed to be resting as much as possible, i know i’m not the only person who heard that.”

you don’t feel bad when his lips pull into a tired pout – you’ve been desensitized to it at this point – but perhaps your heart aches a little when he plays with the laces of his hoodie and mumbles, “but i wanted to make you coffee for your first day at work.”

soonyoung looks precious like this, in your opinion, and your opinions are very rarely objectively wrong; you don’t know when he rolled out of bed after you got up to shower, but he’s still sleep-warmed and half-asleep, snuggled into a well-worn hoodie you remember gifting him before you had even officially started dating. he’s barefooted, which, on the kitchen tile floors, can’t exactly be pleasant, but he doesn’t seem perturbed by it at all. the only thing ruining your domestic view of your boyfriend has to be the rough, wet cough that comes from him the next time he opens his mouth, quickly shoving his face into his elbow as the coughing fit wracks his body. whatever he meant to say before is lost between the both of you, and you flit around the kitchen restlessly to get him a glass of water.

“i know, it’s miserable,” you tell him, after the coughing has stopped and he’s taken the glass from your hands, “i’m very happy that you wanted to send me off today, but it’s super early, and i know you don’t feel well right now. did you already check your temperature while i was getting ready?”

soonyoung nods, but knowing the look in his eyes, he isn’t pleased with the answer. “still have a fever,” he rasps, and when you raise your hand to press it against his forehead, smoothing his hair from his face, he leans into you without hesitation.

disappointment and worry pull your lips into a frown. “you are still a little warm.” it’s not new information, but you don’t like admitting it. already, it’s been a week since soonyoung was exiled from the company building until he got better, and only three days since he’d developed that nasty cough. his symptoms weren’t dire, you were well aware of that, but that didn’t make you worry any less over his well being. soonyoung is still pallid, his face uncharacteristically puffy and tender – you remember that the doctor had brushed it off, claiming it was nothing more than lymph node inflammation from some kind of virus; he’d sent soonyoung home with anti-inflammatories, and instructions to remain rested and hydrated. this was the first day you would be gone at work full-time, and you were already fretting over how soonyoung would fair being left by himself. “go back to bed, and call me when you wake up.”

soonyoung hums. “alright, take care.”

“and if you start to feel worse, just tell me and i’ll come straight home.”

“okay.” 

“and make sure to eat something. your appetite probably isn’t what it usually is, but you should still try and eat.”

“got it.”

“if you want, i can have something delivered –”

“babe.” soonyoung’s groan is slightly muffled by his hoodie, his hands coming up to your arms to pull you back, “do you even want this job? you’re gonna be late.”

checking your phone, you curse when you realise he’s right. if you wanted to make it to the firm before you were officially late, you would have to leave now. “alright, alright, i’m going. i love you. and i’m serious about you calling me if you need anything, okay?”

you don’t wait for an answer, even though soonyoung is still nodding as you lean up and press a kiss to the side of his head, pull back and, upon further consideration, kiss his cheek again for good measure. soonyoung sees you out as far as the door, leaning from the threshold and waving at you as you hurry down the hallway. you turn to him for the last time as you reach the elevator, blowing him another flurry of air kisses until the elevator dings, and the door opens. he watches you disappear from view, slowly closing the door in front of him.

the trip back to bed, now that the house is empty, feels infinitely longer than it should have. he can still hear the television murmuring quietly from when you turned it on; you like to absently listen to the news while you get ready in the mornings. admittedly, there aren’t many days where you are gone, and soonyoung is home alone. most days, you were both gone until late into the afternoon – soonyoung, at practice and in the studio, and you, at school. the most recent turn of events had been your graduation from law school, which gave you an uncanny few weeks off while you were still interviewing for a job.

you’d called it boring, mainly. ‘it was a lot of sitting around and doing nothing,’ you’d told him one night, eating dinner together at the coffee table, ‘mostly, it was a lot of waiting.’

it isn’t the same, but soonyoung wonders if this is what you felt like every day when he left for work, leaving you home alone for long hours at a time.

the sun is high in the sky when soonyoung is awake enough to think critically again. waking up early enough to send you off while he was sick as a dog wasn’t his smartest idea, but going right back to sleep makes him feel slightly more human than before. he’s not entirely sure what time it is – and he doesn’t check, seeing as his phone is on his nightstand, which is all the way across the bed from where he’s laying.

he doesn’t dwell on it, crawling into your side of the bed and wrapping the blankets around him tightly. you’re probably going to kill him when you find out he slept here, him and all of his germs, but he knows it’ll be worth it, the scent of your shampoo still lingering on the soft coolness of your silk pillowcase. the television acts as some sort of glorified white noise machine, lulling him to sleep before soonyoung even has a chance to set an alarm for later in the day. truthfully, he wouldn’t need it; he wouldn’t be going anywhere for a long, long time.

soonyoung knows he should probably listen to what you told him earlier and eat something, and yet he stays in bed, staring blankly at the television as it moves through sports headlines. his eyes are still partially glued shut, and his throat feels dry. he almost swears that he can feel your charger cable plastered to his back, but makes no move to pull it out from under him.

he thinks about eating again, and the thought only serves to make him more nauseous – maybe, if he tried, he could get away with nibbling on some crackers without feeling like his stomach might explode.

one could only hope.

soonyoung’s lament doesn’t last long, promptly interrupted as his phone vibrates against his nightstand. soonyoung weighs his two options: one, it’s from the company, in which case he very much could have ignored it and he moved for nothing; two, it’s from you, and if he doesn’t pick up the call in the next fifteen seconds you’re going to be on the phone with paramedics before soonyoung has the chance to call you back. he doesn’t take the time to deliberate over which one would be worse, because he’s squirming into a sitting position and reaching for his phone before he can decide.

luckily, it’s just you. soonyoung only thinks it’s a little strange that you’re calling him at – he checks the clock on his phone – 1:38 pm on your very first day at work.

“hey, you,” he manages to mumble out, holding the phone to his ear even as he leans back into his mass of pillows, scratching the side of his jaw, “you have good timing. i just woke up.” he hears you laugh from over the phone, but it doesn’t give him the same satisfaction that it usually does.

“hey, young-ah,” you say, and normally, soonyoung would preen at the nickname, despite the fact that you have dozens for him. today, he doesn’t – he isn’t sick enough to not notice the tremble in your voice, or the fact that you sound like you’ve been gasping for air. “how are you? are you still at home?”

“of course.” maybe it sounds worse than it is. soonyoung is prone to dramatics, including the self-inflicted. “been sleeping the day away, mostly.”

“okay.” you sound far away now, like you’ve set your phone on your lap, “listen, something came up earlier, so i’m…i got seungcheol to pick me up, and mingyu is here, too. i’m on my way home right now.” he hears a distant ‘hi, hyung’ coming from the other side of the call, and almost doesn’t have the thought to greet mingyu in return.

soonyoung expects the worst – that maybe your alleged boss had reconsidered your application and hadn’t been able to tell you before you got there; maybe some sort of tragedy had happened to one of the workers, enough to where the entire office had been shut down, employees sent home.

as curious as he is, and god does he want to know every juicy detail, soonyoung instead stretches himself onto his back, half-buried in your pillows, and asks, “are you okay?”

“i’m fine,” you say, your voice coming out quicker than he had expected, “i can’t explain it right now, just – turn left right here, cheol – i’ll tell you as soon as i get home, i promise.”

“what are you talking about?”

“soonyoung, i can’t – there’s not enough time to explain it right now.” soonyoung sees the ‘breaking news’ title card scroll across the screen of your tv as you pause, “i’ll tell you everything, i promise. do you remember where i put my old bookbag after i graduated?”

there’s not enough time for soonyoung to process what you’re asking him when he starts reading the scrolling headlines at the bottom of the screen. “i think so…”

“can you take it out for me? i just need somewhere to store the important things before we go.”

from the other side of the line, soonyoung can hear seungcheol talking, just over the sound of traffic around you. “we don’t have that much time. just get soonyoung-ah and come back down…”

“we can’t assume we’re coming back, cheol. he’s still really sick, and if he happens to get worse while we’re gone, i don’t want to be unprepared for it.”

“gone?” soonyoung parrots, feeling utterly confused, “baby, why aren’t you telling me what’s going on? why are we leaving?”

you seem to suddenly realise that your boyfriend is on the other end of the line, sucking in a sharp breath that the receiver only vaguely picks up. “soonyoung, we’re almost there, please, let me explain everything in person–”

“what even is cordyceps?! why is it all over the news, they’re talking about it like it’s the end of the world!”

“baby, i–”

“i know, you’ll tell me when you get home, but if it’s actually important that we leave as soon as possible–”

“cheol, there’s a shortcut up here–”

“–then i can pack everything you need and meet you in the lobby–”

“no!” you seem almost surprised as he is that you raised your voice, “no, soonyoung, please don’t. it’s not – it’s not safe right now, everyone is acting crazy and you’re not at one-hundred percent health. please, please tell me you’ll stay inside until i get home.”

soonyoung has never heard you beg before, and that alone is enough to chill him straight through the bone. he agrees without any more fuss, putting the phone on speaker and leaving it in bed, even as he paces nervously around the room, wrestling out of his clothes and pulling fresh ones out of his closet, trying to dress as quickly as possible. it’s only jeans and a worn, oversized sweatshirt, but it’s better than nothing.

you haven’t stopped speaking, but soonyoung knows you aren’t talking to him. everything you say is a little too far away, a little too vague to make out. he hears other voices – mingyu, seungcheol – and you can only truly be talking to those two now. there’s an occasional softness in your voice, when you sound the most far away, that makes soonyoung think that you’re turning your head to murmur reassurances to mingyu, who has always been a bit of a scaredy-cat. soonyoung imagines that he’ll tease him about it later, when he no longer has a laundry list of questions keeping him from comforting his dongsaeng.

“baby,” soonyoung mumbles, grabbing his phone and cradling it in his hands, “how far out are you?”

“not far at all, young-ah.” you sound so unsure, but soonyoung lets you pretend you’re hiding it well, “just a few blocks, i can see our apartment building–”

the crash doesn’t register with soonyoung until you’re screaming over the phone; the crunch of metal folding like paper and the shattering of glass so fine it sounds like rain; a frenzy of deep, sharp shrieks as soonyoung imagines the car flipping once, twice; your voice is so far away now, but you’re screaming louder than ever, desperation and terror sending you into hysteria as you sob and wail ‘mingyu-ah! mingyu!’ until your voice begins to crack with use. soonyoung is yelling with you, shouting your name, “what happened, what happened?! are you okay? is everyone okay? talk to me! baby, i need you to talk to me!”

soonyoung is helpless to do anything other than listen, your heartbroken cries punctuated only by the scrape and crumble of glass, piercing his heart and nearly sending him into a panicked spiral. soonyoung only thinks to grab his phone at the last second before standing up and bolting to the front door. he’s already been thinking about how much time it would take for him to get downstairs using the stairs and into the street before he’d be able to find you. you’d said on the phone that you could see your apartment building just before you crashed – surely you were close enough to reach on foot.

soonyoung struggles with the laces on his sneakers, and tries not to think about seungcheol’s bmw flipped over onto its roof in the middle of seoul, with his partner hanging upside-down in the front seat.

“soonyoung-ah…”

your voice creaks as you call his name, and soonyoung nearly dives for his phone, clutching it in both hands as he holds it up to his face. if he stares hard enough through the screen, perhaps your likeness would appear in front of him – despite the fact that you despised using video call, and would avoid it like the plague if you could help it.

“you’re okay,” a deep, gentle voice hums from the other end of the line; it’s seungcheol, and soonyoung could almost cry in relief that he’s okay, “you’re okay, i got you. hold on to me so i can get you down.”

“soonyoung-ah…” you’re crying harder now, choking on your tears as something metallic clicks in the background and the shuffling begins, only to end just as quickly as seungcheol’s voice mumbles quiet, undecipherable comfort to you.

soonyoung is quick to open his mouth, desperate to say ‘i’m here, i’m still here, i’ll come down to you. stay there, be safe, i love you.’ 

“soonyoungie,” you sob again – soonyoung has never heard you cry this much in the near-decade he’s known you, and his heart leaps to his throat, “don’t come - don’t come down here.”

“don’t say that to me.” soonyoung finally finds his voice, though the words are hard to force out, “don’t tell me to do that. jus-just don’t move, okay? soonyoungie will come downstairs and find you and seungcheol-hyung and mingyu-ah, and then we’ll all go together. how’s that sound?”

“no, you can’t.” if soonyoung could see you, he imagines you would be shaking your head at him, “please, i’m begging you. it’s not safe.”

it feels like there’s glass scraping at the inside of soonyoung’s skull – the headache from earlier is coming back, full force. “baby, i don’t understand–”

“i’m telling you not to come downstairs!” you shout, “don’t come down here, soonyoung! don’t come–”

day one-thousand nine-hundred and seventy

the call cuts before you can finish, his phone screen lighting up to show him his background – it’s supposed to be a photo he took with you after seventeen’s first win, except he’s cropped himself out, leaving only your smiling face behind. soonyoung sits in the new silence that blankets your shared apartment. on the street below, chaos erupts, the everyday humdrum of the city shattering as the apocalypse begins in the heart of south korea.

five years, five months, twenty-five days after the outbreak

mold has started growing on the walls of the apartment. it’s the first of many signs that soonyoung will eventually have to pack up and leave – the sooner the better.

this mold isn’t cordyceps, which can’t survive outside of the body for more than an hour, but it’s fungi, and he’s aware of the health risks posed against him should he cohabitate with it for too long. he can’t afford to get sick. there’s no one here to watch his back.

soonyoung misses you more than anything.

he wakes up cold, curled tight into a ball within his sleeping bag. lying on his side, staring into the decrepit, ransacked room, there’s a sliding glass door on the adjacent wall, half-obscured by torn, fluttering curtains. it’s his only exit from the ground floor apartment, so he’d attempted to leave it exactly as he’d seen it before – sitting half-open with one side of the curtains drawn, the rest sitting in a sopping heap on the floor.

he’d spent most of the night watching the door, listening for the tiniest movements, before he eventually let exhaustion drag him into sleep.

for a sunny day in march – and soonyoung at least thinks it’s march – the cold bites like a wild animal. it had rained yesterday, a searing downpour that lasted most of the afternoon, and now a dense, heavy chill sat low on the city. the wind makes it even worse, but soonyoung at least hopes his windbreaker would be enough to keep him from freezing while he scrounged for supplies.

seoul might as well have been a barren wasteland at this point. while the vast majority of the population had escaped the confines of the city during the first hours of the outbreak – soonyoung can imagine many were attempting to reach the coast and escape the country by water – few stragglers still roamed the city streets. even after five years, soonyoung’s never seen anyone closer than fifty meters away, though he wasn’t naive enough to assume there weren’t people who would harm him; with how few people still stubbornly called the city home, supplies were fewer, and soonyoung’s food situation was looking dismal.

it was time to get creative.

normal grocery stores or shopping malls were out of the question – it was suicide, if not for other survivors willing to fight him for whatever scraps they may find, then for the infected. the worst of the hordes drifted out of the city within the first few months of the outbreak, leaving behind an eerie, false silence. the infected, albeit still numerous in the city, became something of an afterthought compared to the risks posed by other human survivors.

produce was a luxury only found in the occasional garden, sometimes growing wild in city parks, and perishable goods were completely out of the question. soonyoung would instead have to rely on looting abandoned homes to look for anything still edible. in previous years, as a man still holding onto the slim hope that help was coming, it would have been soonyoung’s last resort; now, there was nothing left but to assume that he was on his own, and he’d have to act like it. anything not nailed down was free game.

by midday, soonyoung was crossing the han river into dongjak-gu, picking his way through the graveyard of broken cars still stuck on the road. they were likely abandoned in the initial panic to get out of the city – the city’s power grid had stayed on for a week after the outbreak, and every channel on tv was broadcasting the same emergency news, telling citizens to head south, as far south as possible. it’s hard not to wonder how many of them actually made it that far, but it’s an unpleasant thought that soonyoung pushes from his mind as quickly as he can.

he’s is only a third of the way across the bridge when he starts to hear the clicking. it’s not the first time soonyoung has heard it, but it’s one of the only time he’s ever been this close to the source. it was atypical for clickers to congregate in groups outside, where their echolocation was less dynamic.

it meant good things for him, because it meant he’d be able to sneak past them with less trouble that usual. he wasn’t prepared for a fight; soonyoung only carried one weapon with him – a mean-looking hunting knife that he rarely used in self-defense. if it really came down to it, running for his life was really his only option.

soonyoung steps out carefully from behind the row of cars he was huddled behind, and immediately realises he’s made a terrible mistake. at the sound of his canvas sneakers hitting the asphalt, ten heads turn his way, half-muddled eyes training on him through the haze. a quiet, biting ‘fuck!’ leaves his lips, and soonyoung takes his one option without an ounce of hesitation.

he sprints down the remaining length of the bridge like he’s a runner on his final leg, finally putting his foot on the gas after taking it easy through the last turn. the shrieking doesn’t let up behind him – if anything, it grows closer, closer, until it’s nipping at the backs of his heels. soonyoung’s lungs burn and his legs shriek with exertion, but he doesn’t stop. he can’t stop, desperation fuelling his adrenaline that much more, breath coming out in rushed gasps. there’s a pileup at the intersection not one-hundred meters in front of him, if he can just get there, get up and over, maybe he can break their line of sight, disappear in the rubble.

it’s not a good plan, but it’s better than no plan, and it’s all soonyoung has time to come up with before the shrieking behind him is suddenly in his ear, the weight taking him to the ground as the infected clambers over him.

soonyoung has never seen one this close before, never been under one as it fights against his hands restraining it, broken fingernails digging into his arms and rotted, black teeth snapping in his face. he doesn’t know where the rest of its group is, doesn’t hear any cacophonous sounds of his impending doom over the sound of his own heartbeat.

he needed to push it off, needed to reach for his knife and sink it into the decaying bone of its skull, but there was no way he could hold it with one hand. the lack of sustenance wasn’t helping soonyoung’s case – he was weak, no longer the energy-ridden dancer he used to be, and while he still retained what was left of his stamina from the years before the outbreak, it was nothing if he couldn’t defend himself in a pinch.

soonyoung is sure he’s going to die here when the shrieking stops faster than he can process it, a sharp bang echoing through the empty streets. the infected slumps into his hold, and soonyoung’s arms finally fail him. he gasps for air, shivering on the ground; he can’t tell if it’s from the cold or pure adrenaline. there’s blood splattered on his face, and soonyoung can smell the iron in the air, clogging his senses.

the infected has a bullet wound drilling straight through its temple and out the other side, dripping blood all over soonyoung’s windbreaker.

he pushes the body away, rolling it to the side and sitting up, scanning the street for the shooter. with so many cars in the way, it was hard to see anything at all. none of the other infected were coming after him – had they also been taken out? was he being watched right now? it didn’t matter, he was losing daylight, he needed to move if he wanted to eat tonight.

“soonyoung-ah?”

it can’t be who he thinks it is. soonyoung is five years younger in an instant, sitting on the floor of his – your – otherwise empty apartment, feeling the weight of the world settle on his shoulders. he hadn’t wanted it then, but he’d been able to carry it with him, every ounce of that grief and anger, because he knew it would keep him alive.

a pair of worn hiking boots plod into the corner of his vision, and soonyoung looks down the barrel of a shotgun at one choi seungcheol.

five years have passed since soonyoung had last seen him, but seungcheol still looks every bit of the leader that he was before, if not a little rough around the edges. there was no faulting him in that, not with the way the world is now.

“hyung,” soonyoung mumbles, feeling his eyes prickle with tears, and seungcheol’s reaction is near instantaneous, hanging the shotgun off of his shoulder and pulling soonyoung into a rough, blazing hug. soonyoung’s face is tucked tightly into his shoulder, a familiar hand buried into the choppy black hair at the back of his head. soonyoung can still hear his heart pounding in his ears. seungcheol is shaking against him, though quiet. it’s uncanny. soonyoung doesn’t remember ever seeing seungcheol become so emotional before.

soonyoung isn’t doing much better, pressing his face farther into seungcheol’s jacket. his tears are beginning to soak through the material, but cheol doesn’t pull away. he makes no move that proves he even notices, which soonyoung only has the energy to be tangentially grateful for.

“seungcheol?” a woman’s voice echoes through the streets from behind soonyoung – it’s unfamiliar, not one he recognises, “who is that?”

it takes a herculean effort for seungcheol to pull soonyoung away from him, and when he does he pushes him gently to turn around, presenting his find to an older woman with a serious face, who stares at soonyoung critically. briefly, it takes him back to his trainee days, and soonyoung would be a liar if he said he wasn’t almost missing those formidable years; they were, in most ways, awful, but in the very least he hadn’t been alone, hadn’t been made to fend for himself.

“this,” seungcheol starts, pressing a strong hand against his shoulder, “is soonyoung. he’s one of the friends we lost – thought we lost – when everything went to shit.”

soonyoung feels like his head is floating through space, and he tries not to think too hard about seungcheol’s word choice in the latter half of his statement.

the woman doesn’t speak for a long time, simply levelling soonyoung with an expression he can’t quite read. she’s silent for perhaps another thirty seconds – though it could have been several minutes – before she sighs and gestures them both along.

“come on, then,” she grunts, “we’re too far into the city as it is. we might as well head back before it starts to get dark.”

soonyoung learns that the woman’s name is julkyung, and that she’d met seungcheol’s group two and a half months ago during a supply run into the city. she tells him that their group doesn’t live in the city – that a small group of them are holed up outside the city as they gather supplies for the coming winter months. she doesn’t tell him where their real camp is or why they have to come all the way to seoul for what they need, and soonyoung doesn’t ask.

seungcheol smiles, warm and bright and so, so relieved, and pulls soonyoung along, falling quickly in step behind the older woman.

they walk for an hour down the highway, going south out of the city. seungcheol doesn’t let go of soonyoung’s hand the entire time, occasionally turning to look over the younger man, like he’s searching for something wrong.

“what?”

“nothing.”

“are you sure?

seungcheol flashes him a comforting smile, and soonyoung wants so badly to trust it isn’t forced. “i promise, soonyoung-ah. hyung is just happy that you’re okay.”

julkyung leads them to a break in the highway, where the concrete has crumbled with time, scaling down a lopsided bus held up haphazardly by the untouched road. seungcheol is almost unnecessarily careful as soonyoung slides down the roof, but neither of them say anything – soonyoung is more than willing than to let seungcheol have this if it gives any comfort to his brother.

“how long were you in the city?” soonyoung asks, unsure if his hands were clammy or just wet with rain, “after everything…y’know, i rarely saw other survivors, much less…” he doesn’t finish, but seungcheol seems to understand what he’s searching for immediately.

“we left the city,” he says, “a couple days after the quarantine zone went to shit. they’d blocked off all the city exits, but with all the chaos we were able to slip out. went north for a while and, hm…ran into trouble. we doubled back earlier this fall, passed around the city trying to go south. that’s how we met julkyung and the others.”

“and everyone else?” it’s an idiotic question to ask, because soonyoung doesn’t even want to know the answer, “is everyone okay?”

seungcheol’s grimance tells him everything he needs to know.

“no.” somehow, cheol is calm, bringing a hand up to securely thread his fingers through the short hairs at soonyoung’s nape, “but most of us are, and that’s what’s important right now.” julkyung pushes her way through a swathe of undergrowth, seemingly ignoring them. “come on, we’re almost there.”

the path julkyung had taken them down leads into a clearing, one that looks like it could have been for camping in another era. there are tents scattered across the flattest portion of earth, forming a ring around a fire pit in the middle. there are other people – people that notice them before soonyoung has even laid eyes on them. many flock to greet julkyung once they notice their little group at the edge of the perimeter. most of them don’t notice soonyoung at all, not until cheol is gripping his arm and pulling him to the wayside, around the congregation, and to the circle of tents.

it’s early morning, practically still night, as your small group hikes south of seoul, when soonyoung turns to you and asks a question that makes your stomach drop.

he’s calling for someone, perhaps multiple someones, but soonyoung doesn’t have to guess who. when his eyes meet yours – looking upon you for the first time in what could only be a thousand years – soonyoung crumbles under the weight of the world, and falls into your arms without a moment of hesitation

“what happened to them?”

you don’t respond to him immediately, but soonyoung can feel your discomfort radiate off of you. his hand is laced in yours, and even as you squirm and your skin grows clammy despite the cold, he doesn’t allow you to pull away.

“soonyoung, no,” you mumble, pleading, “i sh - i shouldn’t tell you that. i can’t. it’s bad enough that they’re gone already, isn’t it?”

you can’t see him through the ghost grey of the incoming sunrise, the sky just barely illuminating enough for him to make out your silhouette. you can’t see the way soonyoung’s eyes well with tears at the mention of it, biting at his lips to keep from sobbing again. he should have run out of tears by now.

you’re right. it is already bad enough; enough so that the grief has become a sentient monstrosity that lives and thrives within the hollows of his ribs, a perfect cage to house the creature. soonyoung should grieve, should memorialize the dead in his memory and try to find happiness with the loved ones who are still with him.

soonyoung can’t do that.

he can’t.

you can’t see him, but you can hear him, and you falter as soonyoung stifles his tears and murmurs out a quiet, helpless, “please.”

even so, you’re silent. and who could blame you? what could you even say to him that wouldn’t drag his already tattered soul through glass? you could only imagine how much he had gone through, alone, in the last five years – you couldn’t simply add onto that, let him carry the weight of those deaths with him. they were not his to bear, and yet he begged for them.

“shua was already too far gone when seungcheol and i made it back to the dorms,” you say, quietly, softly, nerves edging your voice as you glance through the trees, “he was infected, i think. i never saw him. nobody did, actually, but we heard him. jeonghan wouldn’t let anybody go into his room when we were packing up to leave.” your eyes peer to the front of the group, where soonyoung knows jeonghan is, talking quietly to seungcheol. there’s an emptiness to him that soonyoung hadn’t been able to place last night. he and shua had practically been soulmates – perhaps that effort was only to protect what was left of him.

soonyoung tries not to think about joshua – beautiful, sweet joshua-hyung – rotting away in his room, skull cracking and splintering open as fungi grows from his brain in swooping branches. even in soonyoung’s imagination, they look like antlers.

the joshua-hyung of his imagination tilts his head into a grievous angle, and clicks at him wildly, making to lunge at him. soonyoung quickly burns that joshua from his mind, squeezing his eyes shut until he sees white.

soonyoung is only partially there as you tell him about wonwoo, who had been bitten protecting chan, how the rest of you tried – god, you tried – to take that arm off in time, to save him, how it was just too much for him. he listens as you tell him that seungkwan had gone alone into a pharmacy to retrieve a medication they needed for jihoon, that nobody had known about spores at the time. you talk about how he changed; as jihoon got better, seungkwan grew more and more sick, until it was clear that there was no hope of him coming back from it. seungcheol was the one to do what was necessary – he was the only one who had the resolve for something like that.

(what you don’t tell him is that jeonghan had begged joshua not to give up, had nearly dragged him out the door kicking and screaming, unwilling to accept leaving him behind. you don’t tell him about the first night, the first sleepless night, sitting outside shua’s door and talking to him, keeping him company as he slowly lost himself in the brain fog. you don’t tell him that chan had curled up at wonwoo’s side for the better part of three days, comforting his hyung as wonwoo grew dimmer and dimmer, until one night he fell asleep and never woke up again. you don’t tell him that chan cried himself hoarse, that your little group had buried wonwoo in a park just outside of the city. you don’t tell him that seungkwan went slowly and painfully, that vernon hid the slow-mounting grief and held firm for his friend until the very end. you don’t tell him that you’d woken up to seungkwan begging for ‘hyung, just do it, just do it please–’ and seungcheol’s responding, thick-voiced ‘i know, hyung is here, i’m sorry, i’m so sorry, please forgive me–’’ before the silence set in.)

(you don’t talk about mingyu. soonyoung doesn’t ask.)

you walk together, silent, hands loosely intertwined, for hours, until julkyung is stopping the group next to a small stream to rest and eat. soonyoung doesn’t have an appetite – doesn’t think he could stomach eating even if he tried – and yet you sit beside him quietly, busying yourself by peeling an orange. soonyoung doesn’t want it, he wants you to eat it, if not to give you that tiny ray of happiness, watch it spark in your eyes, but he doesn’t reject it when you begin pushing individual segments into his hand, only after peeling all of the clinging, filmy albedo off of the fruit. you know soonyoung hates the white stuff, hadn’t ever eaten his oranges without spending an inane amount of time making sure they were immaculate, before finishing the entire fruit in a matter of moments.

“young-ah,” you whisper into his shoulder, pressing a gentle kiss against the fabric of his sweatshirt, “i love you so much, do you know? and i would do anything to keep you safe.”

“i know,” soonyoung says, because he does – it’s the only thing he knows for certain, outside of his group members – yet he still manages to sound just south of unsure, “i’m going to wash my hands off. they’re - i’m gross right now.”

you mumble after him, something soft and comforting that soonyoung knows would have him melting into you like putty, so it’s a good thing he’s already up, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows as he reaches the edge of the small creek and submerging his hands inside, sighing at the coldness of the water against his skin. it’s the type of cold that will likely chill him to the bone later, when he least expects it, but for now it’s a comfort. soonyoung doesn’t know the next time they’ll come across clean water until they reach this new camp, if at all.

soonyoung scrubs his hands until the skin is red and raw, until not a speck of dirt remains on them. if it weren’t so cold, he would seriously consider washing his hair. as it was, every follicle would freeze before it had time to dry, and that wasn’t even enough to say that they didn’t have time–

soonyoung’s entire world is turned one-hundred-and-eighty degrees when someone grabs his arm, twisting it around to examine it, forcing his entire body to follow. he’s face to face with julkyung again, but the woman isn’t wearing her usual indifferent facade. she looks at soonyoung as if he’s some sort of wild animal, or a dog with rabies she’s been called to put down.

her hand grips the skin just above a ragged bite scar in his arm. it’s an ugly thing, a pseudo-circular mess of indistinct teeth-marks where a runner had taken him off guard months ago. soonyoung hadn’t even noticed it until hours later, when he was semi-safe in a new hideout, shucking off his layers of clothes until he’d found blood on his long-sleeved shirt. the creature had bitten him through three layers, which would be commendable if soonyoung hadn’t panicked about it for three days straight.

he hadn’t known what to do. he still doesn’t know what to do; the bite is easy enough to forget, but just seeing it every so often is enough to give him anxiety, make him question whether or not the infection might still spread if given the chance.

it hadn’t, but julkyung didn’t know that.

“what the fuck is this?!” she snarls at him, gripping his arm tight enough to bruise, “what the fuck is this! you fucking–”

seungcheol is up the moment he hears the conflict, attempting to put his way between soonyoung and julkyung. “woah, hold on, we don’t have any idea what this means–”

“it means you brought a fucking infected back to my camp!” julkyung cries out, shoving seungcheol back, “what if he’d gotten all the way back to the others before we found out, huh? he could have infected any one of us!”

“don’t be ridiculous!” you hiss, grabbing julkyung’s wrist and ripping her away from soonyoung, holding it with much gentler hands as you inspect it, “this bite isn’t fresh, and soonyoung isn’t infected. if he was, we would be seeing side-effects already, but we’re not!”

with the way julkyung’s face twists up into a snarl, soonyoung is expecting the woman to grow fangs and a set of claws. as it is, he tries not to look at her at all, focusing wholly on your outraged expression, and the way your hand cradles his wrist.

“why are you defending him?!” julkyung sounds an eclectic mess of exasperated and angry, and soonyoung’s chest pushes against your back as you step away from her, right into him. it’s an awkward angle, not that soonyoung cares about awkward anymore, and when something cold presses against his chest, it doesn’t take him long to realise it’s because there’s a rifle hanging off of your shoulder. “we were going to take you people home! you could have a community, an actual life outside of scavenging for scraps!”

“we can still have that,” you say, your voice a placating, deceptive calm, “just not with you people. not if soonyoung isn’t coming.”

soonyoung can’t allow you to say something like that. he spent five years surviving by himself, alone out there – it’s a pain he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy. he wants to speak up, spin you around and grab you by your shoulders and say that you can’t do that, he won’t allow you to give up a semblance of civilization for him. selfishly, stupidly, he wonders if you’ll go with him if he’s forced to leave, travel with him for however long you both last.

he won’t do that to you. he would never forgive himself if he were the first to go, and then he thinks, again, that it would never happen to begin with, because his friends – his brothers – would never let him walk that road alone.

“so you’re just going to give it up,” julkyung starts slowly, “for him? for a man you haven’t seen in five years?”

you don’t answer; maybe you feel that you don’t need to. it’s obvious enough what you’re going to choose. from the corner of his eye, soonyoung watches jeonghan tuck his own rifle underneath his arm, hiding only slightly behind seungcheol as he racks a bullet in the chamber.

(the night before, you had bundled soonyoung up in your sleeping bag with you, zipping it closed and curling yourself around him, pressing your face into the prominent bone of his shoulder. “i saw you everywhere we went,” you’d murmured, voice thick with tears. in the frosty half-light of pre-dawn morning, soonyoung could only see a faint outline of your figure entwined with his; even so, he knew that he could map your body blindfolded, trace every subtle feature with the skill only found in the depths of reverence. “i prayed every day that we would find you again, that i could hold you like this and be held once again. and i promised that, should i find you again, i would never let you go.” there’s warmth against soonyoung’s cheeks – he digs himself closer to you and sobs into your hair. “i meant what i said, young-ah. i’ll follow you anywhere, wherever you go.”)

“screw this,” soonyoung hears, a harsh, rasping whisper that comes from behind him, just seconds before a rough hand is grabbing the back of his shirt and throwing him to the ground. he attempts to scoot back, hopefully get his feet under him and stand up, do anything to defend himself, except soonyoung finds his body frozen in place as an older man produces a handgun from the inside of his jacket. “we don’t have time for this, let’s just kill him now and–”

the man gets no chance to finish, sooner interrupted by a deafening bang that seems to shake the very foundation of the earth.

initially, soonyoung is convinced that he was shot, expecting the blooming pain that would come with white-hot metal ripping through his flesh, pressing a hand against his chest to feel for blood. it doesn’t come, though it’s twice as jarring when the man topples sideways in front of him, viscous red pouring from a dime-sized hole in his temple. he trembles briefly from his place in the dirt, before eventually going still, staring into soonyoung with eyes blown wide.

your rifle is no longer slung across your shoulder, now held firmly in your hands, still aimed where the man once was. soonyoung waits for the regret, waits for the shock to set in as you realise you just killed another human being, and yet it never comes. you look at the body in a fluctuating degree of interest, but none of your body language conveyed anything more than mild surprise.

chaos erupts quickly around him. julkyung screams, attempts to grab at your shoulder and whirl you around, one hand grappling for the revolver strapped to her leg. she doesn’t get very far, even as you fumble to hastily rack another bullet – another gunshot crackles through the air, and the tender flesh of julkyung’s neck explodes into visceral bits as the shot tears through her arteries. soonyoung doesn’t have to look to know who the culprit is – he can already see jeonghan stalking forward from the corner of his eye, but sees little else as you grab his collar and drag him back.

julkyung’s sluggishly writhing body is the only thing that stands between what’s left of seventeen and what future lies ahead of them. soonyoung grapples for the knife strapped to his leg, knowing it’s a useless weapon in his circumstance, yet preferring to have at least some chance to defend himself should it come to that.

“none of you move,” seungcheol calls, shooing the others back, until eventually the entire group was moving in step, “not until we’re long gone. we don’t want to kill any more of your people, but if you follow us, we will defend ourselves.”

“they’re going to come after us.”

soonyoung thinks he hears someone snarling at them, spitting vile words or threats or something, but you’re taking him by the arm and pulling him deeper into the woods before he can think about it any longer.

it’s the first time someone has spoken up in hours, and soonyoung recognises the voice to be jeonghan’s.

“they will,” seungcheol says, sounding distant up in the front of the group, “which is why we need to put enough distance between us and them before we set up camp for the night.”

“we should go back to using the watch rotation,” junhui calls from the back, “make sure at least one person is awake to watch for intruders, infected or not.”

“and maybe find somewhere inside to hole up for the night,” vernon mumbles. he’s been quiet, even more so than usual, and soonyoung doesn’t know if it’s because of what transpired earlier, or something that he hadn’t been present for.

there’s a murmur of agreement, and seungcheol quietly starts steering them to what were more populated areas off of the highway. more population means there’s likely to be more infected, but being inside is safer, easier to defend, and will do a better job of blocking out the cold that’s only going to get worse as night falls.

soonyoung thinks he should say something; about the bite, about the implications of his immunity, something, anything. he needs to clear the air, get back on the right track with everybody, as if they’d somehow veered off-course. he opens his mouth, hoping that he would know what to say, and yet nothing comes.

he clamps his mouth shut again. the way his teeth grind together eases the pressure in his skull only minimally, but he doesn’t say anything about it. he’s already put too much pressure on you and the others in the few days he’s been reunited with you.

your hand has migrated from his arm back down to his hand, squeezing intermittently, a reminder of your warmth and your presence right beside him. he squeezes back, if only to feel you squeeze harder.

soonyoung swallows, his throat try and crackling as he searches for the words to say, and without looking, you beat him to it.

“you don’t have to say anything,” you whisper to him, continuing to look ahead, “you need to tell us eventually, soon, but just know that every person in this group will fight for you wholeheartedly. we will never abandon you.”

the ache in his chest doesn’t fade, but soonyoung presses his lips together, and nods. you’ve already proven your loyalty to the group, your devotion to him. wherever you go, wherever you called him to, soonyoung would follow without question.

he would never want for anything but to be by your side.

[waldau-archived]

Hi waldu!! It’s minnieminshi!! I saw that your drabble requests are open and I was wondering if I could request number 11 from the prompt list with Wonwoo?

I know his blind ass without his glasses would be so cute lol

“Morning kisses that are exchanged before either person opens their eyes, kissing blindly until their lips meet in a blissful encounter.” + wonwoo

mimi thank you for requesting!!! i wanted to write a honeymoon scene for any one of the members and wonwoo seemed the most perfect one for it.

you don’t know if it’s the magic of the cool italian breeze wafting in through the window that’s slightly ajar, the warm covers that feel a bit too warm right now, or the fact that you’re aware you’re sleeping next to your favourite person in the world, that's keeping you from going back to sleep.

scratch that. you know exactly what’s keeping you up.

you pretend to be asleep, and wonwoo continues his ministrations on your skin. you feel him press a kiss to your forehead, his most favourite place to kiss you. as much as he teases you for being shorter than him, there’s nothing he loves more than having you just in reach so he can kiss you, as a way to greet you when he sees you, or as a way of telling you he’s proud of you, or as a way of telling you he’s there for you when you’re down and that you should know it.

you want to wake up and return the favour, kiss his face silly and relish the fact that he won’t ever tell you to stop even if you go a bit overboard, because he trusts you to know his limits. the thought of it makes your heart clench.

he’s no longer your fiancé. he’s jeon wonwoo, your husband, the man you married two days ago before he whisked you off on a surprise honeymoon to italy to spend a week with you. no friends or family or obligations or commitments. just the two of you, happy, in love, together.

so you keep your eyes shut and just feel as wonwoo moves down to your temple, letting his lips linger there. “i love you,” he whispers, and then he moves to your cheek. “i still can’t believe this is real.”

you can’t hold back any more at that. you turn around with your eyes shut and lean up in the direction of his warmth, willing to kiss whatever part of him you reach first.

he chuckles, his voice deep from not being used this early in the morning, and you realize you’ve hit his chin. you try again, and this time it’s the corner of his mouth.

“not ready to wake up yet?” he asks, hand gently combing through the tangled mess of your hair. you shake your head. the covers rustle under his movement, and you feel a gentle kiss on your lips. you blink your eyes open to see wonwoo looking at you with nothing but love, his eyes looking slightly unfocused without his glasses.

you get to wake up to this for the rest of your life. seems like a pretty good deal. the best, even.

[seokminfilm]

assumptions | lee seokmin

pairing: lee seokmin x reader

warning: non-idol au, angst, romance, major league baseball player!seokmin, popular x nobody, depressing themes, unlikely meeting, sprinkles of fluff, miscommunication, pg-13/some suggestive themes (??) mentions of peer pressure, drinking & insecurity, cursing, there IS a happy ending (i promise)

playlist: assumptions, sam geliatry | runaway houses city clouds, tame impala | softcore & reflections, the neighborhood | passion, pinkpantheress

part: 1 of 3 extra note: thank the amazing @slytherinshua for coming up with this absolutely GENIUS idea🙏 / word count: 1.7k (longest thing i've written???)

Even though popular and talented Major League Baseball player Lee Seokmin had everything that eleven-year-old him would've wanted, he felt empty as he watched his own replays on the television.

Seokmin had fame—he was known everywhere, not only for his raw talent as a pitcher, but his model-like qualitites and his supposedly likeable personality. Seokmin had money—he lived in a pretty upscale apartment that was cut off for the rest of society, tucked away on a cliff overlooking the bustling night view. Seokmin had merit—he was praised for his physical ability, humble disposition, and respectable talent.

He had it all, and yet he had absolutely nothing.

Just hours earlier, the crowd's roar was tantalizing, drawing Seokmin in as he stared out at the thousands of fans coming to cheer for him and his team. Now, it sounded static-like and overwhelming, the sound unbearable as he had to switch the television, sighing as he moved away from the suffocating room that was once his comforting living room.

Seokmin's footsteps echoed into the empty, lavish kitchen, white tile unblemished as he searched his fridge. He wasn't hungry, but he looked inside it anyways, closing it moments after as he sighed to himself, hands in his hair as he rested his elbows on the sleek marble countertop.

Why did he feel so empty? He had his teammates if he needed to call, but he didn't want to hear their voices right now. He didn't know why he was angry at them, but he was.

Seokmin was never an angry person—sure, he got fired up at times or had strong opinions that he wasn't going to let go without a fight, but he was never one to just be angry for no reason. Something was bothering with him, but he couldn't figure out what it was or how to stop it.

Why was he even trying anymore?

"Fuck." Seokmin sighed out the curse word, bite still harsh behind it as he let his head fall down on the counter with a hard knock.

A knock at his door brought him out of his sour reverie, and he stared at it confused. He lived far off from the nearest residental area—who was here? How did they get here?

The doorbell rang just seconds later, and Seokmin groaned, tired eyes empty as he made his way to the front door, swinging it open to reveal you, standing in all of your oblivious, confused glory.

"Can I help you?" Seokmin's voice was obviously not the one you were expecting to hear, and you jumped at it, face a hot, blaring red as you realized what was actually going on here.

Your friend had given you an address that a party was going to be at, and you reluctantly promised that you would go. You had followed the directions to the letter, and didn't even think twice about when you arrived at the massive apartment, undeterred by the lack of cars or absence of party music.

You were obviously at the wrong house.

"Can I help you?" Seokmin repeated again—this time around, his voice was sharper, more annoyed. You stood in shock, obviously in denial that this had happened to you.

"Is there a party going on here?" You questioned, and Seokmin blinked, silent before he shook his head slowly. "....No?"

Not only were you at the wrong apartment, but you were at popular celebrity Lee Seokmin's apartment. The Major League Baseball player your little cousin was a fan of was standing right in front of you, in his attractive, dashing glory.

"I'm so at the wrong house." You say awkwardly, and Seokmin just stares at you, just as confused and disturbed as you are. There was this random girl at his door, talking about a party that he had heard absolutely nothing about.

"Yeah, you are." Seokmin actually let out a little laugh at that, eyes crinkling like the ways you say they did on television. You smiled, an even brighter red because the Lee Seokmin was laughing at you.

"Well, I should go. I'm sorry, uh, Mr. Lee." You said, trying to mend the awkwardness you were feeling. Seokmin paused, eyebrows furrowing together slightly as he spoke. "You know who I am?"

"Well, yeah. My—my little cousin—he's a really big fan of you." You reply, mind somewhere else. You're not a big fan of the man or anything, but you have said he's attractive on multiple occasions to your Major League Baseball-enraptured friends (who would not let you live it down if you told them that you had met him by accident).

"That's sweet," He says, and you nod, offering a small 'yeah' as the two of you fall quiet. "We'll, I'll go now." You say, smiling awkwardly as you start to walk away.

"Stop." Seokmin's voice is quick, but strong, and you pause, turning back around as you meet his gaze. His brown eyes were even prettier in person, and the tight, black tank top he was wearing (and you were trying to ignore) just made the whole ordeal even more unbelievable.

"Can you stay?" I just—" Seokmin pauses, struggling to find the right words. He couldn't even believe what was coming out of his mouth right now, but he couldn't seem to stop the words from coming. "I don't want to be alone."

You were stunned, unable to speak for a second as you replayed his words—he was asking you, a random college girl who inputed the wrong directions and ended up at a celebrity's rich-looking apartment—to stay with him.

And here you were, saying yes. "Yeah, uh—sure." You conceded, stepping inside the apartment as you slipped off your shoes.

Everything was so upscale, and you felt out of place, t-shirt and sweatpants doing nothing but making you feel like you were intruding in Seokmin's clean, neat space.

"Make yourself at home. Do you want anything to drink?" Seokmin was in his kitchen, pouring himself a glass of water as he looked to you for your response.

You were watching his back intently, watching how his muscles tensed when he did certain things—he was built, no doubt about it, and you could imagine the curve of his collarbone and dip of his abs from your vantage point.

"Oh, um, water's fine." You answer, noticing that Seokmin had been staring at you for who knows how long, waiting on a reply.

He went to work, filling your glass as he passed it to you. It was cold, and you took a sip, quiet as Seokm looked out the massive window that stood his dining room. The air between you two was still very awkward, but you felt like you could open up about anything to him, and he wouldn't judge you like your mom or friends would.

"So, you live here all alone?" You questioned, and Seokmin nodded, taking another sip of water. "Yeah. It's just me." Seokmin answered, and his hand tightened around the glass. He was so alone, and so miserable.

"What about you? Do you live alone?" Seokmin returns your question, and you shake your head. "I live with a college friend."

"Oh." Seokmin nods, and you nod with him, silence falling over you two again. It was so awkward, sitting with this famous baseball player while drinking cold water and talking about your living situations. Could your night get any weirder?

You studied Seokmin's face, never really paying attention to it while you were talking. All the pictures never really did him justice—his eyes were prettier in person, and you never knew that he had a tiny beauty mark on his cheek. You guess it must've always been covered up, or obscured by his helmet.

His frame was as described by everyone in love with him—he was strong and broad, muscles bulging from his sleeveless tank top.

According to a Men's Health article you read once, Seokmin worked out daily, and they weren't lying—he looks like he was sculped by God, spending hours and hours to get to where he was now.

"Thanks for staying, by the way. I know it was weird, asking you to randomly stay with me in my house." Seokmin becomes timid, and you shake your head, shrugging. "Of course. I mean—I have nothing better to do, and I really didn't want to go to that party my friends were going to."

"You really didn't want to go, did you? You came to the wrong address just you wouldn't have to, huh?" Seokmin laughs, making a joke. You flush, laughing nervously as you set down your glass. "I guess you could say that, yeah."

The laughing dies out between you after a while, and you yawn, eyes growing heavy. Whether it's because the lack of real conversation you and Seokmin are having, or the fact that his voice is so calming and down-to-earth that you could phase into his countertop and sleep forever, you don't know.

"Your eyes are closing." Seokmin says—his voice sounds like he's laughing at you, but you're too busy fighting sleep off that you let it slide. "Well, yeah, I guess so."

"You're getting sleepy, aren't you?" Seokmin questions again, and you nod without thinking, head falling on the countertop as you mumble a yes.

Seokmin leaves his place on the other side of the countertop, making his way over to you as he leads you by the shoulders into his living room. His massive, warm hands engulf your shoulders easily, and you let him lead you, not putting up a fight as he lays you on his plush, velvet couch.

"What will the people think if they found out I was sleeping on your couch?" You muse, half-asleep. Seokmin pauses, brain racing at your simple question—so many things could happen if this were leaked to the public. His clean image would be stained by dating rumors if that happened to you, and Seokmin didn't know what he would do if the word actually got out.

"They're not going to." Seokmin says blankly, and you mumble something before drifting to sleep. Seokmin stares down at you, watching your soft features contort into a neutral expression.

What would reporters say? What would his teammates say? What would his coach say? What would his manager say?

Seokmin didn't know, but he found himself not wanting to think about that as he dimmed the living room's lights, walking upstairs to his room as he stripped himself of his pants and got into his bed, lights going out as he stared into the darkness.

What was he doing?

feedback & reblogs are so appreciated! i wanna hear your thoughts :>

[softyhan]

story prompts/summaries on my mind but too lazy to make a story because im too depressed —

you can freely use these prompts if you guys find it interesting, just give some credits (tag me) or give me reasons to live. (the first one is the easiest) . you can use these prompts for different members, idols or characters.

the (red) text indicates the trope and the (blue) is the genre.

(bl) (angst, slowburn romance) where Kim Mingyu is adopted by a rich family where his parents work for after his both parents die and met the rich family's only son Jeon Wonwoo in a very young age. Wonwoo is born with a weak heart thus can't be expose to extreme emotions. As Mingyu and Wonwoo hit adolescence together, they start to grew fond of each other. However, Wonwoo's condition got worse and Mingyu thinks the best way repay the kindness of the Jeon's is to keep their only son alive by making sure his own heart was healthy. They say the deepest act of devotion towards a person is giving them your whole heart, Mingyu commit on that literally.

(bxg) (angst, slowburn romance, melancholy) where Seo Myungho met a female lead in a group therapy for depressed individuals who attempt to commit su*cide. They got teamed up to find 10 reasons to live by visiting various places that once gave them joy and euphoria. As they find a will to continue to live, they get to know each other. Before reaching the tenth reason, they start to realize that they're each other's tenth reason to breathe.

(bxg) (romance, multiverse, sci-fi) where Moon Junhui finds himself in a different universe after a failed science fair experiment. He found his dead childhood friend in this universe alive and apparently he doesn't have a counterpart in this reality. With her help, they try to bring him back to his own universe. All's well that ends well, he starts to question the life he had on his own reality and finds himself choosing between going back to his old life as a nobody scientist or rewriting his remaining life in this new world.

(bl) (historical, romcom) where Yoon Jeonghan is a pretty monarch in the early years of the Victorian era and falls in love with a Knight-General (Joshua Hong). The problem is both of them fall under the same gender and this kind of romance is forbidden especially for individuals who are part of the monarch peerage. This kind of twisted Romeo and Juliet tale is bound to be a horror, or will it be?

this is pretty much what my brain has. i hope u guys like it and if coincidentally i have the same ideas as others then idk. if u guys have some suggestions or concerns about these prompts, just lemme know.

[mesanthropi]

[03:59]

choi garam hated phone calls right now, more than anything. because it was most likely going to be his brother calling to check up on him, when things were already cooled down and cooled off. there was no need, was there, when they'd made up?

so when 'rock with you' started blaring from his device, the idol grumbled, quiet despite how much louder he wanted to be right now. the ravenette rolled over, phone getting smacked by the side of his palm. "iseul, not now-" managing to get ahold of the thing, he blinked, trying to adjust to its brightness (it was on max). "... huh?"

it was jeonghan.

"..." hitting that dreadful green button, he put the older on speaker, yawning. "i hope you've remembered it's four in the morning," garam's morning voice resonated throughout the room. but only a hum came from the other line, alongside a few things being put down in the background. the receiving end of the call only furrowed his brows. "hello? jeonghan hyung, you better have a good reason for calling me at the asscrack of dawn."

"just wanted to hear how you were doing," came jeonghan's response from the other side. "sorry, i thought you were in korea with the others. four in the morning?" the younger's small hum of confirmation was enough for him, honestly. he sat up from his bed, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. the sound of the older falling onto his bed prompted a laugh. "ain't it ten in the morning for you there?"

"mhm."

"finished already?"

"i wish. but at least i get to look good while i'm tired."

garam huffed, shaking his head in mock disapproval. even all the way from germany, jeonghan would know; this was always his response to such sayings. "good on you, i guess..." he muttered, flicking the switch on to let some light into his eyes. "... hey, when are you coming back?"

"i should be asking you that, choi goyangi," the younger exhaled through his nose upon hearing this. "i was talking to seungcheol and he told me you were in canada?" the ravenette shrugged, looking for his glasses on the bedside table. it was just to let him think, remember the korean translation of what he kept telling joshua. "i'll just be here for today, i'm leaving tomorrow morning. i'm working on something."

there was a click of the tongue on the other side. "you work even in canada?" garam's laugh followed, mildly sarcastic and empty, but held some amusement at least. "just stay safe there, sunshine. before you say anything, yeah, i'm being cautious myself."

"you know me so well," jested the younger, finding the pair and slipping it onto his face. "but yeah. i'll try my best... you go out there and look great, 'kay? slay it, sister." when a few seconds of silence passed, garam snickered, adjusting his hold on his phone. "garam, what the-"

annnnd that was his cue to hang up. thank god.

[lovjiwoong]

every time i plan out an sm au to the ending, i never stick to it, i always get ideas and change things