wyngigi

[wyngigi]

is there anyway to vote to end up w all of them

im so fucking excited ohemgee t i love u

how did u find all my bfs btw!!!!

you were tired of spending the holidays alone, tired of enduring your family’s incessant questions about your relationship status. from october fifth to november twenty third, you vowed to yourself that in the short eight weeks you gave yourself, you’d show up to thanksgiving with a boyfriend. eight different dates, eight different men, one of them’s gotta be a keeper… right?

────── “oh, you still don’t have a boyfriend?”

at twenty two, you thought it was completely normal to not have had a boyfriend yet, you didn’t think you were missing out on anything. your cousins bombarded you every year with their own relationships, shoving their boyfriends down your throat, the rocks that sat on their ring fingers from their fiancés, they were relentless – and it was every single holiday.

it used to be just your cousins, then it was your aunts, uncles, parents, siblings, your fucking grandma. you were tired of the question, tired of being the odd one out, even a little tired of being twenty two and never experiencing love. 

“yes i do,” you let out a nervous laugh, one you’d hoped your cousin didn’t pick up on.

“you do?” her eyebrows reached her hairline, eyes bulging out of her skull. “rina, did you hear that? she said she does have a boyfriend.”

you scratched the back of your neck as karina came closer, a smile on her face, “no way! finally, what’s his name?”

you blinked at them, scrambling in your head to think of a name – any name. your laugh came out nervous again before you answered, “you’ll meet him at thanksgiving, no hints until then!”

you spent the rest of your family’s end of summer cookout with your ears ringing, panicking about the mess you just brought on yourself. being september twenty eighth, you had exactly eight weekends until thanksgiving. 

eight weekends meant a different date each weekend, eight chances to get a boyfriend before thanksgiving. out of eight different men, one would be good enough to show off to your family, right?

i'm super excited about this one, it's gonna be so fun!!! if you see any of ur faves (plus a few more teezer boys not shown), stay tuned <3 love, t xoxo

[wyngigi]

📸 choi3an

[wyngigi]

wait what is happening w tori n mingi …. pls 😥

lets all cheers to homerun completion my first plumverse story muahahahah i love it w all my heart

in love w ur writing as always i love this ending so much even if im sad to see it go 💟

home;run -> fem!reader x mlb!mingyu, mlb!vernon, mlb!dk

College didn't work out, so you're stuck with the next best thing. Living with your superstar brother, traveling with his championship winning team, haunted by your past and heavily influenced by your present.

wc; {part seven} 3.6k warnings; 18+, sexual content, alcohol consumption/abuse, bad influences around her, manipulation, her name gets taken advantage of in public media, if i missed anything please let me know!! notes; peese n lurv. <3

Cheers could be heard down every street in Iloa, the Lions stadium alive, living, breathing, exploding full of love and support, every voice showering down onto the field of ten or so men stretching, throwing around baseballs, or sprinting across the grass.

In the bullpen, the smack of DK’s hundred mile per hour baseball hitting the leather of Woozi’s glove echoed against the walls and carried up to the kids in their matching jerseys dangling their heads over the railings to watch them, calling down for them to throw a baseball up into the stands. Standing on the sidelines, coaches, other starting and backup pitchers, they’d grab whichever ball DK discarded and tossed it up to the boys and girls, watching their faces light up with joy.

A sweet smell lingered in the air, one mixing with that of the savoriness of the comfort foods the boys on the team indulged in after a victory, one they hoped would happen today. Pretzels, soft chewy cinnamon bites, ice cream stands around every turn, every corner of the stadium. Women and men wandered about with bright red shirts on, carrying bins of ice cold drinks, beers, and water bottles, their voices booming through and over the crowds eager to get their buzz on. Fans waiting in line at the stores, full of Lions merchandise, were calling them over, swiping their cards without checking the price, and chugging the can as best as they could before they were allowed to walk through the door. An excellent ploy, get them tipsy and they won’t care what they’re picking up off the shelves.

Bouncing in your black boots, skinny jeans on your legs and a silky custom Lions bomber jacket on top of a bodysuit, you held a water bottle in one hand and an ice cream cone in the other. Grooving to the music radiating the walls of the stadium, a pop beat from a music group that prided themselves on being the biggest fans of your brother, the cutest group of seven talented boys the Lions were now partners with, you pulled on the elbow linked with yours, accidentally rocking them with you. Sunglasses low on your nose, you turned and smiled. Latched to you tight, elbows locked, Ryujin licked her ice cream and raised a brow.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” she said, letting you rock her to your heart's content as the two of you strolled through the first floor pavilion. “Is this that group DK likes?” 

“The group that DK is friends with?” Correcting her, she smiled and rolled her eyes. “We had a few of them over in the off season while I was home with him, they’re cool.”

Ryujin dodged a man barreling toward the seats carrying one of his kids in his arms while the other ran behind him. “Jesus,” she muttered. “This place is crazier than last season.” Catching the drips of ice cream down the side of your cone with your tongue, you winked to a group of girls around your age staring at you and Ryujin and gave them a wave as you passed by them.

“They need them to win,” you said.

“They need to use manners,” she countered, giving you a look.

Shaking your head, waving to some other people who actually called out your name and greeted you properly, you said, “Then we need them to win. You don’t wanna see these people when they lose.”

Ryujin, having been on guard for your sake since she arrived three days ago, gave the people a stare, not caring what they thought of her. She overanalyzed them all. Back in February, a little over a month ago, when the Mingyu story broke the internet, your name was drug through the mud. You weren’t so innocent either, though you were, you knew what you did, what had happened, but to the media you were a drunken mess homie hopper. 

The photos of Vernon safely placing you into his passenger seat couldn’t even compare to the photos of Mingyu and Daya, taken from far away, not up close like people would do to you when you were dating him. That thought alone disgusted you, that you weren’t worthy of certain boundaries like Daya apparently was, that you could have cameras shoved in your face while you were kissing your boyfriend in a public space, but there she was, on his lap, tongue in his cheek, and the photos and videos were grainy as fuck. 

He couldn’t defend himself. It took about twenty four hours for you to be able to face him, even at the training games they had played the following day you ignored him, sat in the stands with your sunglasses on, arms folded, legs crossed, only cheering and clapping when ‘Now batting, first basemen, Chwe Hansol’ was announced through the stadium. Simply to piss him off, of course. Videos of that hit the internet to no one's surprise, everyone was way too involved in the scandal that almost took down Vernon’s name as well.

The two of you spoke that night, the day after the story nearly imploded your lives, with DK and Vernon on standby, the two waiting in the hallway outside of your hotel room to Mingyu’s demise. Your precious, golden hunk of a boyfriend couldn’t say two words to come back from what he’d done. With grace, somehow, he listened to your telling of how the night went, how he’d acted in front of your brother, and what he’d said to Vernon.

His only reasoning, that wasn’t an excuse to how he ended up with Daya on top of him, was that she came onto him. Loosely believing it, that he didn’t realize what she’d been doing, you let him go with a hug and his thousands of soft apologies for everything he’d been putting you through without realizing. 

That was the Mingyu you used to know, before the money, before the fame got to his head, before he was one of the stars on the team, a huge name in baseball. The nice Mingyu, the one who’d catch onto the things your parents would say and give you a silly look with a roll of his eyes, the Mingyu who once upon time said he wanted to take care of you one day, wanted to give you a life you deserved. 

But, he was all talk. A hug, whispers of I’m sorry, it was as simple as that.

All the mentions of realization seemed to withstand the pressure of the media cracking down on him in interviews, the way people would run into him on the street and bombard him with questions of you, of Vernon, of the scandal, of what he’d done. Every single time he would own up to it. Left within him, though you broke his heart, wouldn’t forgive him, told him that you two did not work together, was the care he held for you. The love he said he had, which out of everything, was the one thing you wholeheartedly believed in.

Protecting your name, defending you, speaking about you with a softness in his eyes only when asked, he at least kept one of his promises. Giving you a life you deserved, a safe one. He gave you your space, he didn’t try to come back, he didn’t fight to hold onto anything, he respected what you had to say, what you wanted, which would’ve driven you mad if Vernon weren’t standing in the hallway, if you didn’t have history clinging to him, love for him. A boy that podcasts and drama influencers alike were calling stupid for involving himself with you, for getting between you and Mingyu, that if you two were to get together after this it’d be a shorter relationship than the one you’ve just come out of.

All the more reason for Mingyu to come out and admit to what he’d done, which in turn, destroyed Daya and Hoshi’s marriage.

Desperately clinging to whatever she possibly could, sloppily throwing stories together, making absolute dogshit up about you, about Mingyu, about your brother, she scrambled miserably to hold onto her husband and the beautiful, wonderful life he’d given her. 

You and Hoshi spent some time together in the days following the break up, bonding in a way you’d never expect. Across dinner tables after days of baseball, he’d sip his beer and tell you story after story about what a witch his soon-to-be ex-wife was. He never meant to marry her, which didn’t make him out to be partner of the year, but when they found out she was pregnant with their daughter he put a ring on her finger and owned up to the new life he was bound to live.

He wasn’t looking for an excuse to divorce her, to escape her, to get rid of her, but he wouldn’t say he wasn’t grateful that this ended up happening. As for his daughter, he wouldn’t give her up for the world, when he spoke on Daya their daughter never came up. It was all her, his now ex-wife, or in the process of becoming ex-wife. He’d always shower Tora with love, would show up for her, and give her the world whether he was with her mother or not. And that’s who Daya became to him, the mother of his daughter, nothing more.

She was the curse of last season after all, the fans had no problem discarding her after Hoshi made the one and only public post to announce his divorce.

In doing so, combined with Mingyu’s unspoken compliance, Hoshi aided in the repairing of your name, of Vernon’s name, and within weeks things started to turn around.

“I don’t like the way some of these people are looking at you,” Ryujin said, holding onto you a little tighter each time someone's eyes spent more than two seconds on you. 

Tugging her out of the way of a family staring at their phones then pointing to the signs above their heads, confused as to where they were going, you yanked her toward the row of stairs leading to the first base line. “Most are fine,” you assured her, pausing at the top of the steps. The man working the row gave you a smile and a nod. “How are you?” Returning the smile, you watched his cheeks blush.

“Fine, Miss Isla, and you?” he asked with another nod of his head.

Looking at Ryujin, then back at him, you nodded as well. “Fantastic. There’s three more behind us, they should-”

“ISLA!”

The high pitched scratchy scream struck your heart. Eyes wide, head snapping to look down at your seats in the first row, you couldn’t help the obnoxious screech that came out of you involuntarily, simply triggered by a glimpse of their beautiful faces. Ryujin slipped her elbow out of yours, accepted the ice cream cone you slapped into her hand, and let you go, discarding the sweets before leisurely following you down the stairs, not running like you were. 

“Oh my god,” you breathed, skipping a few steps at a time, “Oh my god!” Heads were turned from the seats slowly filling the sections, you and your sisters shrieks gathering attention like clockwork. Even if you weren’t actively causing a scene, when the five of you were together people paid attention. 

Jumping off the last step into the row, you didn’t even have a second to look at any of them, to mess with the adorable outfits they’d thrown together, you were in their arms and their arms were around you, squeezing you, the four of you lost in whispers and Tori’s teary eyes. When Ryujin made it down the steps she wiggled herself into the middle, her hands grabbing onto three different parts of two different girls.

Aurora, Tori, Yuna, Ryujin, they were here. Once you found out they were coming to opening day you upgraded their tickets, you grouped them in with yourself and made sure they’d be down here on the field with you. It’d been months, and after the last few weeks, you needed your sisters. Partially the reason why Ryujin came days earlier after she’d gotten clearance from a few of her classes. Like DK promised, she stayed in his house with you, she hung out with your brother and actually got to know him for him and not the almighty baseball superstar he was made out to be.

She liked him as your brother more, and DK took to her in the same way. Within three days it felt like you were trapped with a big sister as well as a big brother with how they both ganged up on you, teaming together to tease you like big siblings should while whipping you into shape at the same time. The other three were set to come back to the house with you tonight, staying for the length of the three game series the Lions were opening their season with, and you couldn’t wait for them to spend time with the brother you spent so much time telling them about at Nasara.

“Tor,” you whined first as the group hug dispersed, reaching for her bronzed cheeks glowing in the March sun. Her glossy pout worsened, making you giggle, forcing your thumbs to her bottom lashes to keep her makeup in place. Tori came close to Ryujin in your heart, another trustworthy sister to share some secrets with, to open up to, she matched your try anything once energy, your party loving twin.

Grabbing your wrists, her red nails brushing your skin, she shook her head. “It is so good to see you, Isla,” she said, her voice quiet, half broken. “You have no idea what the hell we went through after you left, what we thought happened to you, it was so scary.”

A smile pricked your lips. “Ryujin throwing a sneaker at Yeji’s head?” Giggles sounded around you. “I heard all about it.” Wiping her eyes, you took her hands in yours and squeezed them, giving Aurora a glance. “I heard about everything.”

“How did you know?” Aurora asked, her observant eyes intriguing your own, the girl always on some mission to know. “You said something to me, do you remember?” Truthfully, no, you did not, and you weren’t at a point yet where you had the balls to admit it. Aurora seemed to catch on quick. “Before any of us knew anything… Caught onto anything, which, we didn’t, you knew.”

“And it cost you,” Yuna chimed in, laying a hand on your shoulder. Giving her and her chocolate curls a smile, you shrugged.

“I’ll be honest,” you whispered. “I thought it was obvious.” The laughter that broke out warmed your heart, thank god.

“Let’s not get stuck on this right now,” Ryujin pulled you out the girl's hands and moved you in front of a seat that looked straight out to first base. “We have a game to watch, we can talk about this later.”

Shuffling around the chairs, deciding who was going to sit where around you, an insane amount of questions were thrown your way, every single one involving Vernon.

“Are you guys dating?” Yuna asked from beside you on your right.

“Were you guys dating before? At Nasara?” Tori asked from your left.

Aurora poked her head forward. “Just so everyone knows, he told me about her first!”

“Shut up, let her speak,” Tori elbowed her leather jacket that so obviously belonged to Wooyoung. 

Ryujin threw her hands up, her eyebrows furrowed, the crease in her forehead deep. “I knew the whole time?!”

“Shut up, let her speak,” Aurora said to her, the two breaking out into giggles, throwing playful hands at each other. 

Tori rolled her eyes, her fluffy lashes fluttering as she looked between you and Yuna. “These two, I swear they’re on each other more than anything I’ve ever seen.”

Perking a brow, a smirk lighting up your lips, you leaned forward to witness them swatting at each other's hands, giggling like little kids. Yeah, you knew that one. “Ror,” you caught her attention, and Ryujin’s, “You and Wooyoung? Finally?”

She blinked, many times. Tori took her bottom lip between her teeth, her face going blank. “I mean,” she started, shrugging, gaze flickering out onto the empty field. “Something like that.” Confusion filled your face and she smiled, a breathy laugh escaping her. “We’re not putting pressure on anything,” she clarified. “So many big things have happened this year, we just want to… Be.”

You knew that one.

Letting her know you understood her with a smile, you shifted to Tori who just finished taking a deep breath, her eyes fixed forward. “What about you?” you asked her, letting the other two go back to giggling with one another. Yuna listened in to them, paying no mind to the quiet way Tori spoke back to you.

“What do you mean?” she questioned within a whisper.

“You know what I mean,” you laughed, “How’s Mingi? Mr Loverman? I miss seeing you guys be you,” you nudged her arm, “Your relationship is my favorite, I yearn to have what you two have.”

“Yearn?” She smirked.

“I know words, Tor,” you said, sitting up straight. Gesturing to yourself, you said, “Haven’t drank in two weeks, I’m remembering words I used to know when I was good at school, I’m tryna use them all, one word a day.”

Her eyes began to shine. “Two weeks,” she whispered. You nodded, feeling proud, keeping your anxiety locked away for the time being. “Isla, that’s great.”

“Thanks,” you sighed, accepting her hand she offered you. “It’s hard.”

“But you’re doing it,” she smiled.

“Longest streak yet,” you whispered, and she squeezed your fingers. “This doesn’t get you out of the Mingi question.”

Her face fell. “Damn it.”

“Don’t tell me you guys broke up?” you asked, and she turned toward you, flustered, her cheeks flushing of color.

“No, no, no,” she whispered as fast as humanly possible, “Not that, we didn’t break up, it’s just…”

“Soul said that!” Aurora’s cackle cut her off, Ryujin and Yuna laughing with her.

Closing her eyes, Tori took a breath before looking at you. “I don’t know how to describe it. It sounds horrible in my head, I don’t think I can say it out loud, if I try I either look like a jealous bitch or a shitty girlfriend.”

Placing your other hand on top of the one you were already holding, you smiled something soft. “It’s okay,” you said. “Thoughts are one thing, actions are another.”

Tori frowned. “I love him, you know I do.”

“Tor, we all know that.”

She glanced away, collecting her thoughts. The booming voice of the sportscaster sounded over the speakers and the now full stands erupted into cheers. “We’ll talk later,” she said, forcing a smile onto her face as the Lions were called out onto the field, every person in the stadium leaping to their feet.

Adrenaline shot down your spine, your anxiety pushed aside by the excitement that buzzed within your heart. DK, the first to run out onto the field, shot a hand in the air, waving as the music blasted for their arrival, guiding them to their places on the field. Player after player, they ran out, hands in the air, greeting their fans, searching for their family in the stands, saying hello to cameras pointed their way. The field flooded with love from both players and fans.

Number seven hit the field, cleats in the grass, and your heart skipped a beat. This was it, the first game of the rest of his life. Brown curls popped out beneath his hat, curls you had your fingers in last night from the passenger seat of his car after Ryujin slammed her door shut and hurried up to your brother's house, Vernon dropping the two of you off after a shared dinner amongst friends. He took a second, pausing as the crowd went wild for him and his teammates. Tipping his chin backward, chocolate eyes wide, an absolute look of awe, he turned in a slow circle, attempting to look at every single person, until he found you.

The world went quiet around you, though everyone and your sisters still cheered with every ounce of power within them. A smile lit up his face, one he wouldn’t normally wear so publicly, too much emotion for people who didn’t know him. Watching him wear it now, taking in all the love the fans threw his way, you swore you could cry. 

He was meant to go to first base, everyone was taking their places on the field, the other team was on their way out, but once he found you he was stuck. Glued to you. Drawn to you. He couldn’t even say hi to your friends, his friends, he hurried over and grabbed onto the net separating the two of you, beckoning you closer. Stepping up to the ledge, grabbing onto his fingers that poked through the net, you smiled.

“Girlfriend,” he whispered, pressing his nose to the scratchy yarn.

Leaning into him, doing the same, your noses brushing, you whispered, “Boyfriend,” with a giggle.

“This is fucking crazy,” he said. “I’m so happy you’re here.”

“I’m so happy you’re here,” you said. “You made it.”

“Fuck,” he gasped.

“Remember to breathe,” you whispered. “You can do this.”

Sucking down a breath, he released it all too fast, whispering, “I love you,” before pressing his lips to yours, unafraid to let everyone in the stadium in on the secret you two have been keeping for two weeks now. A secret that you’d try to keep, that both of you wanted to keep, for yourselves, and yourselves only.

Though you knew, after this, #visla would be trending faster than anything.

home;run masterlist | talk to me | ao3

you do not have permission to copy or translate my works without my consent.

[wyngigi]

what is she planning now guys….

💭 wildfire ch. 7 preview ;

To: yn@atz.edu

From: bioeng@atz.edu

Hi Y/N,

Hope this email finds you well! I'm emailing you to let you know there's been a change with your TA assignment. Half of your hours will be split between Professor Hsieh and Professor Jeong, effective immediately. Professor Jeong's TA needed to take leave for a family emergency and will not be returning for the remainder of the quarter. He should be emailing you soon to discuss a little further, but please feel free to reach out in the meantime if you have any questions or need any clarification.

Thank you,

Erika

[wyngigi]

SANNN stop it nikki y do u always cause heartache like this omg 💔 im genuinely distraught like this hurts double js bc we know how it ended between san n iseul already thats actually not good for my health

i loved this so much the tension??? im obsessed as always cant wait for the next update 💟

wildfire (cs) | 6.5

—spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: assistant professor in bioengineering, incredibly attractive, lonely and divorced; that’s how most people describe san. but despite the events that have happened in his life, san has a lot going for himself. he’s a successful, sought out professor due to his brilliant contributions to science at just an early age of 32. he worked hard to get where he was now; head deep into his research, his publications, building his lab and creating a name for himself. everything was good and smooth sailing— until it wasn’t. because when he meets you, a bioengineering grad student interested in rotating in his lab, he finds himself ready to risk all the blood, sweat and tears he put in throughout the years just to keep you close— his need for you spiraling out of control like a wildfire.

—pairing: asst. professor!choi san x grad student!f. reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, grad school au | fluff, angst, smut

—word count: 1.6k

—chapter content/warnings: cussing/mature language, alcohol consumption and slight intoxication, hints of a rocky relationship, i'm trying not to put any hard timestamps to anything cause i didn't flush it out like that lolol but also trying to give you a sense of a timeline! i sawrrrry!!

⇢ POSTDOC | YR 2

San adores Iseul.

And everyone knows it.

But, he looks at her like she's all he knows. Like she's a constellation of tiny details he continuously wants to memorize, like his favorite song, like she's the sunrise and sunset, the ocean, the greenest of grass. 

Bluest of skies.

He sees everything about her; everything in a sense that he's seen who she was, seeing her for who she is now, seeing her for what she'll become.

She's all he knows.

Yunho saw all of it when San first introduced him to her. He saw it all from a simple look in his eyes, down to the way he stayed close to her side.

Hand tightly laced in hers.

The way his dimples never stopped poking out.

She was special to him and Yunho was happy about it. He deserved to be happy, and quite frankly, he could see why San was constantly falling for Iseul. She was beauty and brains, kind and outgoing; all things Yunho admired about her, and then some.

He sees it.

"Where's San?" Yunho checks his watch as he leans back against the stone divider with Iseul in front of him. Tonight was a friend's birthday, a good, mutual friend between the three. He had requested to meet at the bar— a bar with games and karaoke, muted music videos playing through a projector even though there's different music blasting throughout the place.

"Not sure. I texted him but he didn't respond." 

"Maybe he'll turn the corner and surprise us." Iseul laughs at him, waiting for San to pick up the call. The original plan was for them to meet up at Yunho's and head to the bar together. But, tonight, it seemed like the plan was out the door.

"Hey, where are you at?" Iseul slightly whines over the phone, causing San's heart to break.

"I'm sorry babe, I'll be a bit late. I gotta finish imaging. Wasn't too pleased with the data I just got."

"Really?" 

"Yeah, I'm sorry baby."

"That's fine." Pause. "Yunho and I are gonna head over first then, if you're okay with that."

"That's fine, I'll see you guys there. Soon, okay?"

"Don't be too late."

"I won't. Promise." San hangs up the phone and slides it in his pocket, returning the attention to the monitor in front of him. Iseul looks defeated and it makes the smile on Yunho's face drop. He's not exactly sure when he started caring about Iseul in a certain way. He obviously started to care about her as a friend when they met years ago and got close. Things didn't feel so blurred and different back then. They'd all hang out and do things together no matter how simple it was— going grocery shopping together, movies, Yunho and San walking around aimlessly while waiting for Iseul to get her nails done. They moved as a unit.

But now, he's concerned about making her happy and he's not sure when he got to this point.

Maybe when San started focusing too much on his work? Maybe when he'd see Iseul pout and her eyes turn a little more blue and grey? 

He's torn about it because San is his bestfriend and he knows he doesn't mean any harm. He would never intentionally hurt Iseul, but he's passionate about what he does— so much that he can lose sight of the people around him. Iseul and Yunho were equally as busy, but they knew when to turn the switch off and give themselves balance. San, though— not so much. But, he would never hurt a soul. San is like that. He is quiet, he is hardworking, he is a go-getter. He is kind, he is true and he is genuine.

Iseul is looking at Yunho now and she's forcing a smile.

"He's held up in lab, but he said he'll meet us. Let's go?" He nods, but grabs her wrist just as she's about to turn on her heel and walk towards Yunho's car.

"Hey. He'll be there soon, okay?" She quietly nods. It's a very small nod, though. He barely catches it.

"Yeah, I know." He gives her one last reassuring smile before walking alongside of her to the car, popping her door open before getting into the driver's seat.

There's tension in the car.

It's subtle, but it's there.

Yunho isn't sure when it got like this. He's always used to talking to San and Iseul about everything and anything, but she's holding back tonight. Perhaps, she's just missing San.

"Did RJ tell you he was bringing the kraken?" Iseul furrows her brows at Yunho in confusion.

"Is this an inside joke for something or..?" Yunho laughs and shakes his head.

"No, no. It's rum. I forgot where he got it from but he said he really wanted us to try it."

"Oh, so he's trying to get fucked up." Iseul chuckles. "I'd like to see San like that. He needs to let loose. I feel like he hasn't had fun in a long time." She lets out a small sigh, shifting her attention out the window.

"I agree." There's a small silence. "But, he's coming tonight and he'll probably relax a bit." 

"Mm. I don't know, Yu. We haven't genuinely enjoyed things like this together in awhile."

"Let's not worry about it too much, hm?" He hums, playfully ruffling her hair when he stops at a light. It's a very lighthearted move, something he's always done in the past. Tonight, it feels different, something small but soothes the ache and fulfills the craving Iseul has.

The rest of the ride is fairly the same, typical. Yunho and Iseul talk about how their own postdoc work before talking about upcoming plans. They all plan to head to a conference soon, making a week-and-a-half long trip out of it in Southern California. 

Iseul hopes it'll be fun and exciting, nothing too stressful or work-related. She misses having fun with San.

When they get to the bar, all of their friends are already there, holed up in the large karaoke room upstairs and surrounded by finger foods and all sorts of alcohol. Iseul and Yunho shuffle along to take shots [mainly Iseul], catching up with the group in between singing, playing games outside in the main room and dancing.

"Where's San?"

"He's gonna be late." Iseul rolls her eyes drunkly. "Holed up in the lab per usual."

"Yo, is your man married to you or his work? I swear he never misses a beat in there." RJ, another mutual friend, jokes around. Iseul laughs it off but honestly, the jokes are getting old and she's over it. She takes one more shot that probably does it for her tonight, close to an hour into the party.

No San.

"Let's go dance!" Iseul says, grabbing Yunho's wrist. A few other heads follow suit, the group taking up a small space on the dance floor. Iseul is drunk, but she is happy to be around Yunho because he entertains her. He plays along, he dances along. Subtle touches on the hip, grazing her hand. Sometimes, his look lingers for a little too long. Sometimes, her face is a little too close to his.

Yunho didn't have his bestfriend and Iseul didn't have her man like they used to. They eventually found comfort in being together most of the time, comfort in each other.

Like tonight.

"Shit, finally dude! Took you so fucking long!" San laughs at RJ, who is already drunk as hell. He points to the dance floor before making a drinking motion with his hand. "They're over there, but you gotta catch up."

"I'm driving." San brushes him off with a smile before heading over to his lady and Yunho. As he approaches them, he finds Iseul and Yunho deep in conversation. She's leaning towards his ear while he's listening intently. She playfully swats him, hand landing on his chest that San can see the rock on her hand gleaming from miles away. It's ironic, but he'll shake it off because even though his thoughts can race for 100mph, he'll forcibly settle it so he can enjoy his night with people he loves.

Not sit here overthinking every action between his bestfriend and wife, especially when they've always had a good relationship.

Why the fuck would he? They'd never do that to him.

Never.

"San!" The group exclaims. Iseul quickly shifts her attention to San and gives him a tiny smile as she brushes off of Yunho— eyes hazy, cheeks a rose tint from the alcohol in her system.

"Hey." He greets the rest of the group before extending his hand out to his wife. "Hey baby." He pulls her in for a hug before placing a kiss to the side of her head.

"You finally came." She says by his ear. She pulls back and looks him in the eye. He can see the hint of disappointment, sadness. It's not the first time he's came late, and it's not the first time her and Yunho have had to take a head start.

"I'm here." Is all he says while lifting her chin up gently. She purses her lips together before letting out a soft breath.

"Yeah." She pulls away and brushes past him. "I'm gonna go to the bathroom." She stops making eye contact with him and walks off, leaving San to watch her until she makes it into the bathroom.

"Gotta stay outta that cave, my guy." Yunho says, dapping him up and pulling him in for a hug. He isn't really maintaining eye contact with San either and things just feel kinda awkward for no reason. "Let's go get you a drink." He walks off, leading the way to the bar. 

He doesn’t get it.

But, he knows they’d never do that to him.

Never.

—taglist: @asjkdk @interweab @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @persphonesorchid @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @vcutparis @chngbnwf @struggling101 @sanhwalvr @angelqueendom @barbielibra @brown88 @choisansplushie @yunhoswrldddd @hyukssunflower @vickykazuya @lucid-galaxys-world @jaytheatiny @pommelex @thespiffynerd @vixensss @santineez @nopension

[wyngigi]

📸 no1likeme8_8

[wyngigi]

soooo selfish waltz huh… my fucking song ateez i love yall so badddd

[wyngigi]

SAN ICE ON MY TEETH, ATEEZ (2024)

[wyngigi]

hes always wanted to live the crazy daredevil life but what we want is not always what we need!!!! so even if she didnt corrupt him she still did not give him good guidance either unfortunately

baby may be blinded by love just a little 💔 loving ur reaction so far im giddy seeing ur reblogs in my notifs uehahhehehw🥰🥰🥰🥰

ꕀ LUST FOR LIFE ꕀ 04

↳ sex money feelings die remastered .ᐟ cross posted on ao3

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“ they say only the good die young, that just ain't right 'cause we're having too much fun, too much fun tonight ”

↳ synopsis: a group of individuals find that their first taste of freedom in the world brings more obstacles than expected. some of them, find solace by drowning in liquor or in the backseat of somebody else’s car. a lot of them have got to get their shit together. a lot of them won't.

mdni » story contains nsfw content intended for 18+ audiences pairings » member specific, not listed for spoiler purposes ↳󠁪󠁪 ateez x female reader, ateez x ateez ↳ genre » coming of age ↳ word count » 2.3k ↳ general warnings » substance abuse & consumption, sexual content, morally grey characters, unreliable narrators, internalised homophobia, angst, basically every struggle young adolescence can go through ↳ a/n┆i hope u guys love this chapter as much as i do !! a little blast from the past always has me excited <3 p.s let me know which pairings ur rooting for after reading hehe (and yes next chapter we will be back at the party dont worry the drama has just begun)

04⌇memories of summer bring you

As San weaves his way through the crowd, past the drunken bodies of guys and girls alike, he finds himself reminiscing in just how much he had changed the past few years. Was it okay to live a life like he was right now? He’s not too sure. San first thinks of high school, then his thoughts float to you.

San watches the clock tick above his teacher’s desk, mind wandering as he scribbles on his worksheet with a ballpoint pen. He’s trapped in a god-awful environmental science class (which mind you would’ve been a free period instead), courtesy of not taking enough science courses earlier on to hit the credit minimum. It’s torturous, making him study about the world in a stuffy classroom when he could be out there learning by simply living in it.

San might just be a little salty, but the lesson isn’t actually that interesting either, so his mind has been elsewhere the last half hour. He’ll listen when it actually gets important, maybe. First he was daydreaming about buying a motorcycle and speeding off into the sunset, away from this boring sad old town to go live some larger-than-life bullshit.

Then he thought it’d be too lonely to do by himself, so he brainstormed an alternative. If he were ever able to do it, he’d probably try convincing someone to come with him. He hasn’t even finished his senior year, yet his ideas still don’t seem all that crazy to him. It might be farfetched to others, but San disagrees. If you aren’t dreaming big, could it even be considered a dream at all?

Then he starts wondering if his thoughts are too reckless most, if not all of the time, if attempting to move through life hastily would be too irresponsible and could scare the people around him. But he really doesn’t want to miss out on living, San wants to go see and do the things you have to go out of your way to experience. Something you make the journey for to begin with, not just a simple detour.

The type of stuff you have to just hold your breath for and jump into with no regret before it’s too late, the tide retreating, water becoming far too shallow. (He truly wasn’t lying earlier when he said he loves to be on the move, or that the thrill of exploring had always been dangerously enticing to him.) Those mantras, principles, whatever you wish to call them replay in his mind daily. They always have.

San knows the world won’t slow down and wait for him too. He sees it outside the classroom window right now, how the cars still pass down the street as the birds fly high into the sky even if he’s confined to his seat. San is well aware that it’s him who has to be the one to take the leap of faith and choose to start living. The problem is that sometimes he just can’t.

When San would think about the daredevils, adrenaline junkies, risk takers of the world, those who love to live on the edge of things, preparing for their big take off, he’d think of how he would love to be like that someday. Yeah, someday. The difference was he liked staying on the edge too much. Didn’t like the feeling of climbing to the highest point just for the glory if he could end up tipping over, see himself falling down and lose control of everything in the process.

When third period ends San makes his way out of class then down the hall, stopping at his locker so he can drop off the notebook and stationery he no longer needs till after his second lunch break. San knows he has PE next, so he quickly grabs his gym clothes. It’s not that he cares much about being late for it or missing out on any of the “action” though, he only really enjoys it depending on what sport they’re playing.

He likes the sports where his only role is to defend whenever a ball or something comes his way. It’s why he thinks volleyball is torture; trying his best to stay in his position once his team scores but then somebody is already telling him to hurry up and rotate. Those days are just endless cycles of torture. Actually, were.  He started to sit in the nurse’s office on those days.

It’s a good thing they’re doing netball today (he doesn’t have any more passes to sit in the med bay now). San has a lot of fun playing it. He’s even claimed the goalkeeper bib before anyone else can so much that whoever he plays with just lets him have it. The people he usually plays with are good enough to the point where the opposing team never even gets to his third of the court.

Goalkeeper suits him for that exact reason, he enjoys getting to win without even having to take a shot with the ball. San liked how it was so much he didn’t think or want to try being a goal attacker or centre. Well, maybe sometimes he did a little. There were a couple instances where he wanted to try a different role for the first time. San had gotten as close as picking up a different position bib even. Thoughts like that were shoved away quickly however, and the bib would end thrown back into the crate. The mere possibility of letting anyone down in case he was terrible outweighed his curiosity (and potential) on multiple occasions.

Failure was a funny thing; it had given him a terrible feeling that would sit in the pit of his stomach or make him so nauseous it was awfully dizzying. The funnier thing was that San had never truly failed at anything in life, simply because he had never tried much to begin with. That was the case, for quite some time in his life as he knew it. He had been growing more than okay with that knowledge as time passed, then one day he wasn’t.

As he turned away from his locker, San spotted you walking the opposite way to your own fourth period class, clearly getting ready to ditch the rest of the day. His heartbeat had sped up and his palms were awfully sweaty but for the first time ever, he shut out every reasoning voice in his head and chose to do something he never had the courage to before.

The two of you were in the same grade, so he had seen you passing by in the hallways always with both earphones in (to drown out everyone else he assumes, you never talked to anyone when you had them in while carrying an almost sorrow expression). Despite how you looked, you would still be humming away to a tune he could never fully quite catch.

He also knew your lunch times were spent eating shitty snacks from the vending machines and that you really liked the strawberry lollipops from the cafeteria (which they only sold every Friday for some fucked up reason, he overheard you complaining about it to your friends in math).

San would also see you after school with all of your cooler, older friends too. You would all huddle around the corner near the bike racks in the parking lot, out of sight from teachers so you could bum cigarettes off of each other. You’d also listen to music while you were there, only with one earphone in though so you could still hear everyone talk. He liked seeing that, you always looked happy and smiley talking to your friends.

The two of you weren’t complete strangers, but nowhere close enough where he could feel safe calling you his friend either. You shared multiple classes with San, greeting him with a small smile when you’d walk by his seat to get to your own (he liked that you’d always say hi to him even when he never did first). The both of you even worked on group projects together, but that wasn’t enough for him. He wanted to know more about you, to take even the smallest peek at the inner workings of your mind. To find out how you always seemed to not care when things went wrong.

He thinks of your reaction when you would fail a test, how you’d simply shrug before shoving the paper into the bottom of your backpack. Immediately after, smiling as you’d turn around to talk to your friends about whatever you all planned to do that weekend. Stuff like that didn’t make much sense to him. Why would you not opt out of hanging out just for one weekend and study harder to do better on the next test like he would?

San supposes that’s what separates the two of you into vastly different worlds, yet he wants nothing more than to just step over that line and join you.

When he had spotted you there, on that humid summer day in early June a feeling had begun to settle into his stomach again. The strange bit was that it didn’t feel humiliating nor demeaning, but there was still something unsettling about it. It felt extremely foreign at first but now, incredibly comforting. Because for once, it didn’t feel like failure.

So, he then decided to call out to you. It was the very first time he had ever greeted you, without you doing it first. Your name exceedingly foreign on his tongue when coming out of his mouth while you weren’t sitting at your desks in a shared class. You had turned around at the noise, both earphones still blasting music into your ears.

Once you had recognised who the voice belonged too, you immediately had taken out both of your earphones with a smile. The tune he had never been able to fully hear, was now playing into the world for him to hear freely. He felt the corners of his mouth beginning to prick upwards at that. Yet with no plan of what words he would say now, San was immediately regretting his choice to speak to you. His fists were balled up in front of him, grip tightening on his clothes ever so slightly as he lowers his eyes down away from you.

The edge he always treads so carefully on was now unstable and he felt it beginning to crack already. You don’t leave him any more time to freak out over it though. When he looks up, he sees you already opening your mouth to say hello in the soft tone you always use, ushering him over.

“Hey, San. You want to come skip with me?”

The cool breeze flowing through the corridor, cooling down his cheeks just had to heat up again when he locked eyes with you, of course they did. Because San had always found everything about you pretty, from the first time he ever saw you. Not a day would there be a doubt in his mind of that. But, in that very moment he found you strikingly beautiful. In a split second, where his brain and his heart finally worked in unison he had responded hurriedly, before he could overthink it and regret it for the rest of his days.

“Yeah, I do. I’ll come along,” As he chucked his gym clothes back into his locker, a switch had been flicked on in his mind. When he turned around and saw you then, one lollipop in your mouth and a second in your hand, held out to him, a realisation had been thrown into his face like a bucket of ice-cold water. San had ultimately discovered that dancing on the edge was fun, yet leaping off it was much better. Even if the water was too shallow down below, San thinks he would be okay with that.

While walking away from the gym and instead down the hall with you by his side, San had spotted your earphones tangled up and peeking out of your backpack. That day, he settled with the fact that maybe it was okay to be a little too reckless, to move a tad too fast. Even if it could scare people, even if it scared him.

If you asked San what made him love that summer far more than the previous ones, he might mention his drunken bike rides with you and your friends, or the nights he spent laying on the beach with you gazing at the stars. Hell, he even liked the part time job he had to take up thanks to the party you helped him throw (which ended in that broken window he had to pay for). Spending a portion of his summer working as a server wasn’t fun in theory but when you’d visit him on his breaks or pick him up after his shifts, San had found it pretty worth it in the end.

He was truly happy in every moment back then; he’s enlightened even now, because all the memories of summer bring you back to him. Despite existing only as a brief moment in his own mind, San is content because whenever he closes his eyes he finds a version of you is there with him. He’s able feel the sun on his bare skin, with your lips pressed against his own again. His favorite bit being when the lingering hint of strawberries followed as you both pulled away.

Yeah, that’s exactly when it was. Three summers ago. When San had first decided it was alright to embrace being him, to be the person he still was today. All thanks to you.

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[wyngigi]

will seonghwa and his puppy boy reunite??? will puppy boy tell roommate who he was involved with that night????? idk 😈

ꕀ LUST FOR LIFE ꕀ 03

↳ sex money feelings die remastered .ᐟ cross posted on ao3

navigation┆prev┆next

“ they say only the good die young, that just ain't right 'cause we're having too much fun, too much fun tonight ”

↳ synopsis: a group of individuals find that their first taste of freedom in the world brings more obstacles than expected. some of them, find solace by drowning in liquor or in the backseat of somebody else’s car. a lot of them have got to get their shit together. a lot of them won't.

mdni » story contains nsfw content intended for 18+ audiences pairings » member specific, not listed for spoiler purposes ↳󠁪󠁪 ateez x female reader, ateez x ateez ↳ genre » coming of age ↳ word count » 3.3k ↳ general warnings » substance abuse & consumption, sexual content, morally grey characters, unreliable narrators, internalised homophobia, angst, basically every struggle young adolescence can go through ↳ chapter warnings » description of sexual activity while under the influence of alcohol and drugs, mention of sexual activity being filmed (with dubious consent due to intoxication) ↳ a/n┆timeline clarification chapter one is the aftermath of the party that mg, wy, ys & san talk about going to in chapter two, and this chapter (three) is the actual party this story will contain many events that are written out of chronological order im sorry its who i am

03⌇the absolute fucking irony

College parties. Young adults burdened by the struggles of growing up with too much access to liquor and a whole lot of free will. Glass bottles litter the kitchen island, empty cans crushing under people’s shoes no matter where they step.

A certain variety of liquids have been splashed and spilt onto the floors, forming several small puddles. Every room is dimly lit, courtesy of the crappy party lights sending rays of colours out, splaying onto the crowds of people below. Columbia parties, where the music never stops blasting and the room can’t stop spinning.

Tonight is no different. You’re somewhere in there, lodged deep in the collection of sweaty intoxicated people just as fucked up with a cup in hand. Everyone rocks back and forth against each other, bass boosted music drowning out any audible voices. Some others are spread out, chatting, screaming, leaning on any available surface with their almost blacked out friends by their side.

Liquor is sloshing around in the guy’s cup in front of you, splashing onto your arm. Rolling your eyes, you turn away from him wiping your arm before downing the rest of your own cup. The songs playing blast into your ears almost deafeningly as you close your eyes, intoxication making your head spin.

You’ve been here for just over an hour, drinking, dancing, drinking some more. You’re five drinks deep now before opening your eyes to spot your friend. She’s tipsy too, talking to an equally wasted new friend of hers. That’s a lie, no talking is happening there. Definitely more than friends too. You call out her name, locking eyes with her through the crowd, shooting her a thumbs up.

Julie grins, playfully waving you off as she snakes her arms around the boy’s neck opposite to her. You can’t see his face, but you do have faith in her, she’s the picky type.

When the music changes to a slow song, you take a chance to get a breather, and a refill. Tumbling as you make your way to the kitchen you spot a familiar head of tousled brown hair. He’s on his phone, typing with one hand as he runs the other through his hair. He hasn’t spotted you yet, so you head over to the opposite side of the island shuffling through the glass bottles, making just enough noise for him to look up.

Like clockwork, he does and ushers you over with a brief tilt of his head. His teeth are on display as a sly grin plays on his lips. You give him one back, picking up an unopened bottle of Pink Whitney before you make your way over to him.

Setting your empty cup and the bottle down, you lean the side of your body into the counter to stabilise yourself. The marble is cold, pressing into your stomach yet you pay no mind to it. “Having fun?” He teases eyeing how you sway slowly, more than a little out of it. Your eyes are glazed over, and he gives you a once over before mirroring you, hip digging into the counter as he crosses his arms.

Kim Hongjoong, former pretentious rich kid turned even more pretentious angsty tortured artist. Most importantly your favorite dealer, and if it matters to anyone, an excellent fuck.

Several piercings decorate both of his ears, and a small but mighty metal ring is lodged in his lip; it shines despite the low lighting. His eyelashes are long, fanning over his bloodshot eyes. His hair is chopped roughly in the front, purposely grown out in the back. It suits him, his whole brand is that type of messy yet put together all the same. The effortless rockstar vibe if you will.

The speakers are still blaring off in the distance, but the kitchen is somewhat far enough that you only have to raise your voice a little to hear each other. “Definitely a whole lot more now,” you chide. He hums in agreement, hand finding its way to your waist as he leans behind you to grab a bottle off the shelf. The metal rings on his fingers are cold, but you lean into his touch regardless.

The proximity between you two closes in, a combination of woody and musky tones hits you, flooding your senses. It’s a mix of marijuana and, his cologne. It’s welcoming, familiar.

“You don’t look drunk enough to be here,” you poke a finger into his chest, leaning up to look at him. He shakes his head, mullet brushing against the collar of his jacket. Hongjoong’s hand leaves your waist as he moves to face the counter, twisting open the bottle as the seal pops quietly. “Night’s young, pretty,” Hongjoong jests, filling up his cup, “Don’t stress, I’ll catch up soon.” You nod, silently agreeing as you move to take his cup from his hands. He allows it, eyes never leaving yours as you take a sip from the drink. It burns a little at the start then it goes down easy. Fitting.

The liquid leaves a shine on your lips that catches the light. Hongjoong’s eyes flicker down, cursing under his breath quietly at the sight as you look up at him. Your lips always looked so enticing to him, and he can’t help but appreciate the view now. It’s also welcoming, and even more familiar.

Hongjoong maintains eye contact with you, holding up the bottle you brought over in his hands between the both of you. It’s a silent question. You scrunch your nose, accepting his offer while nudging your cup towards his direction on the counter.

You step away from each other as he refills your cup, not too far but just enough so you can continue drinking comfortably. The glass bottle clinks against the countertop when he sets it down, pushing it off to the side. You rest your forearm down to cradle your drink, feeling a warm hand creep its way on top of your empty one. His hand isn’t much bigger than yours, and you smile at the chipped polish on his pinkie. Next time the two of you meet, you’ll be sure to give it a fresh coat.

You turn your head to look back at him and find him doing the same. The music seems to fade as the two of you lock eyes before a small grin cracks out on his face, the hues of red and blue lights blend, purple cascading over his features instead. You huff out a small chuckle, breaking away from his gaze. You’re chewing on your bottom lip, eyes searching the crowd for Julie just as a new face approaches Hongjoong.

The boy glances at you momentarily, lifting his drink up to you before greeting the other opposite you. “Yo man, you got a new buyer out front.” Hongjoong nods, lips pressing into a thin line as he leans off the counter. His friend notes the hand that still hasn’t left yours, eyes gesturing between the two of you. Hongjoong winks in confirmation. When he looks back to you, he’s grabbing your wrist to pull you closer to him. Leaning in, he whispers, “Text me, yeah?”

His breath is hot, fanning on your face while his lips just barely drag over your cheek as he pulls back. It heats your whole body up even once he’s already left.

Yeosang escapes quickly from the blonde who had approached him, now entering the backyard of the house. Mingi and his new roommate haven’t arrived yet, and just as anticipated, Wooyoung’s got his tongue shoved down some girl’s throat against a wall already.

He’s nursing a cup of clear liquid that he thinks could be some form of cheap tequila, but he drinks almost anything (unlike Mingi, rich prick) so the thought is pushed aside. Unfortunately, it’s not just the drink leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.

Something about tonight isn’t clicking for him, the music isn’t quite right, and no one has piqued his interest to look at more than once. This weekend is being spent similar to the many before, and he would usually hope for it to end the same as well. Let Wooyoung loose to drink to his heart’s content, make sure he’s gotten more than comfortable with someone, then find his own someone for the night. Girls and guys alike have shot him subtle smiles and flirty waves, yet none are what he’s after.

By chance, it could have something to do with seeing his roommate with an arm slung around some girl. For the sake of his sanity and to not be a total buzzkill tonight, he’s pretending that’s not the case. Making another thought get pushed to the back of his mind.

Columbia parties also aren’t his usual go-to. The parties are fun don’t get him wrong, but only later in the night. It’s when the crowds really build, and he lets loose till he can’t feel his face. He’s arrived far too early, thanks to a certain someone. He curses Wooyoung for being too eager during their pregames, Yeosang hopes and prays for his friend’s hangover tomorrow to be an absolute bitch.

He spots a group of familiar people playing spin the bottle, but he doesn’t think he’s drunk enough for that yet. Yeosang feels a buzz in his pocket, taking another gulp before reaching for his phone.

mingi: san n i 2 mins away

pls tell me u n wy aren’t wasted already

yeosang: can’t say he isn’t

im ok tho

mingi: knew it , c u soon Yeosang continues scrolling through his notifications before a much taller figure appears next to him.  He knows exactly who it is by height alone. Yeah, one hundred percent not nearly drunk enough to deal with this right now. Being drunk would also not help though. Yeosang wishes the boy was standing a little further away because he looks like a puppy right now. A really cute, really kissable drunk puppy.

His cheeks are tinged red and the tips of his ears match. Yunho grins, leaning close into the other’s face, pupils darting between his. Yeosang’s breath hitches, “Yunho, you good?” he asks, stepping backwards as quick as he can.

He nods slowly, “Mhm, doing great. What’s got you looking so down though?” Yunho singsongs, absentmindedly shuffling from foot to foot. Yeosang hums in response, “Just not feeling too great tonight.” Yunho tips his head back to finish off his drink, Adam’s apple bobbing. Hell, why does this guy have to be straight? Yeosang’s lost in thought before he hears Yunho retort, “Like what, no one to get your dick wet for you arrived yet?”

“Well, in another universe maybe!” Yeosang thinks to himself, instead he replies by shaking his head, hair covering his eyes slightly. This is not the type of conversation he wants to have with his roommate. He turns away from the boy to scan the crowds of people in front him, only to regret it when he spots the girl who was with Yunho earlier continuing to eye fuck him.

Before he has to make more small talk with him, he spots Mingi and who he assumes is San trailing behind him shuffling through the small groups in the backyard. Mingi’s eyes are wandering through the people, filtering for a familiar face.

Yeosang raises his hand up, giving a short whistle as he calls them over. Mingi was right, his new roommate is far from ugly. If his friend didn’t already have an obvious crush on the boy, Yeosang would not have been objected to having a taste of him, mostly to wash out the sour aftertaste someone’s mere presence has somehow brought him tonight.

“Yeo! ‘Sup, Yunho. This is the new roomie here,” Mingi pulls Yeosang into a side hug, patting him on the back. Yeosang raises his brows, shooting the boy a knowing look before whisper-yelling, “He is cute.” Mingi shushes him immediately as Yeosang turns back to the others. San stood further away finally steps forward towards the group. He waves to both of them, “San,” he tells them with a tightly lipped smile before looking around over each shoulder. The shy type, antsy. Cute.

Yeosang speaks up, “Hey San, did you um-” He holds up his own cup, “maybe want a drink or? Mingi’s been here before so he can take you to the kitchen, if you want.” The boy mentioned nods, “Yeah, c’mon,” going to move back towards the kitchen before San interjects, “I’ll uh, grab a drink in a bit. There’s someone I kind of need to look for first.” Mingi blinks slowly, furrowing his brows as he locks eyes with Yeosang.

San looks between the two, licking his lips as he stammers out a cue to leave.

“If you’re thirsty you can go ahead, I’ll catch up soon,” San’s voice trails off as he hurries off in another direction, leaving the three where they are. Yunho pays little mind, still dozed off with too many drinks in his system. Yeosang mouths, “You good?” towards Mingi just as he has to fling his arm out to catch his roommate who's starting to lose the ability to stand straight.

Mingi sighs, biting the inside of his cheek as he looks off into the crowd. He decides there in that moment, yes, he will in fact, be getting a drink. Yeosang catches the look of defeat in the boy’s eyes but before he can silently plead with his eyes for him to stay, Mingi is turned around already.

Yunho slings his arm around the younger’s shoulders, swaying them both to the slow song playing in the distance. He snickers to himself, shaking his head. Yeosang chews his bottom lip, “What’s so funny?” The boy shrugs, looking pointedly at Mingi disappearing into the crowd, head of black hair still peeking out above the others. “Isn’t San kind of oblivious, Mingi clearly wants to rip his clothes off.” Yeosang deadpans for a moment, the absolute fucking irony.

Seonghwa is more than a just little on edge right now. He’s just about to walk into a party that he knows he should not be at, first because he’s rostered for a shift tomorrow at the crack of dawn. Secondly, his friends are excruciatingly good at encouraging him to drink. Something he’d happily entertain even with the promise of a shitty hangover.

That was typically the case, right up until four hours ago when he knocked back the last few pills from his second script of oxy. Without counting how many to actually take.

And finally, he also kind of freaked out after actually seeing the now empty orange bottle, so he had texted his friends that he would be coming tonight after previously opting out. Not that he’s an addict or anything, but withdrawal can be a bitch, or so he’s heard. Anyways, that’s the background for why he’s standing in front of a fraternity house with some artsy alternative looking drug dealer, handing him a wad of cash.

The two of them talk for a bit, letting Seonghwa know he’ll throw in some free ecstasy just for his pretty face. The guy is pretty hot, so Seonghwa thanks him with a flirty smile as he shoves the plastic bags in his pocket.

If you aren’t too familiar with the wonderous world of opioids, specifically oxycodone, here’s the 101. Number one, only take it exactly as prescribed by a healthcare professional. Number two, never mix it with alcohol (or any other depressants for that matter).

His mind is on absolute overdrive right now, studying for exams, picking up extra shifts, he’s there early in the mornings and working closing ones too. The combination of these things are giving him a measly two to three hours of shut eye at most on the daily.

The party lights are beginning to flash in his eyes so much they’re seizure inducing and he’s ready to start drinking so every thought running in his mind just slows down. So he does. He starts slow, letting his friends fill his half empty cup of soda to the brim with vodka.

Eventually it gets to like, three quarters liquor then he decides to take a break. He’s not that irresponsible. Seonghwa knows he has to control himself. He’s also spitting complete bullshit if you couldn’t tell. Seonghwa had gone straight to shots after his solo cup had been emptied the first time. Alcohol doesn’t hit him too bad, but when the oxy does hit instead, it hits hard.

If he wasn’t so out of it, he’d probably be describing some pretty fucked sensory details right now. The party lights becoming brighter, but not hurting him anymore. The walls waving back and forth, starting to swirl. Or melt, the pills definitely kind of mess with some visual receptors if you can’t tell already.

Seonghwa lets out a small laugh as the music’s beat begins pounding in his chest. His breath staggers as the faces of the people surrounding him begin to blur and his arms and legs start to tingle a little. He’s happy, he feels okay now. Actually, wrong. It’s even better. He’s on top of the fucking world.

Whatever happened to Seonghwa from the moment his dopamine surged to the rest of the night can’t be recalled from memory now unfortunately. Fragments of his time at the party (and a personal, very private after party) however could instead be pieced together thanks to all the new photos and videos captured by his phone. It started off pretty tame, him screaming butchered versions of lyrics to songs, dancing and whatnot.

Then there’s a clip of a bathroom stall, white powdery lines on the metal toilet paper dispenser with some guy’s voice in the background. Then there was more dancing, which developed into PG-rated snippets of some form of grinding with a pretty boy who kind of reminds him of a puppy. Then as you continue to scroll you’ll find a video taken from the back camera, albeit a little shakily, of him walking down a faintly lit street hand-in-hand with who he thinks is the boy seen in the earlier videos.

They’re both extremely wasted, their words slurring as they stumble onto a familiar pathway that leads back to his dorm. (He also confirms both guys from the previous memories are the same person from his clothes and voice). It’s cute, in a way. They’re giggling and knocking into each other accidentally. The time stamps between that video, and the next few are just over ten minutes apart. The rest of the clips are short, but they paint the picture of their next encounters pretty effectively.

And that’s putting it lightly, Seonghwa basically made a fucking sex tape.

It’s lewd and provocative in every way, including anything and everything that a person could think of. Kissing, moaning, heavy breathing, broken gasps, his own high-pitched whining. The echoes of skin slapping against skin is apparent in almost all of them. The ones without it are replaced with the guy’s low, throaty groans. They were filmed by him too, pointing the back camera towards Seonghwa, who's looking up at him through a half-lidded gaze, awed expression as the boy swipes his thumb across his raw bitten lips.

The next morning, he wakes up naked to an empty bed. Once he finishes watching over everything captured in his phone, Seonghwa puts them into the hidden album in his gallery. His hangover feels like hell, so he begins scrambling around his room to find his jeans discarded to the floor from last night’s shenanigans. There’s a messy pile of clothes (including what he wore the night before, still turned inside out from what assumes to be impatience) that he has to filter through before he finally does find them.

Digging his hand into every pocket, he manages to first find the fresh bag of oxy and with more searching, the other bag too. As expected from whatever the fuck he did last night, that one is definitely pretty empty.

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[wyngigi]

im a firm believer that wooyoung either says a funny one liner and leaves the gcs on dnd or he talks so much at once hes chatting to himself 🥰🥰

ꕀ LUST FOR LIFE ꕀ 02

↳ sex money feelings die remastered .ᐟ cross posted on ao3

navigation┆prev┆next

“ they say only the good die young, that just ain't right 'cause we're having too much fun, too much fun tonight ”

↳ synopsis: a group of individuals find that their first taste of freedom in the world brings more obstacles than expected. some of them, find solace by drowning in liquor or in the backseat of somebody else’s car. a lot of them have got to get their shit together. a lot of them won't.

mdni » story contains nsfw content intended for 18+ audiences pairings » member specific, not listed for spoiler purposes ↳󠁪󠁪 ateez x female reader, ateez x ateez ↳ genre » coming of age ↳ word count » 3.5k ↳ general warnings » substance abuse & consumption, sexual content, morally grey characters, unreliable narrators, internalised homophobia, angst, basically every struggle young adolescence can go through

02⌇relationships, fuck buddies, heartbreaks

San has made a lot of bad decisions in his lifetime. For starters, back in the golden days of high school he decided to skip class and go on a bike ride with his friends. It was fun, until they decided to add alcohol into the mix, then it got stupidly fun. He ended up on the ground with his bike reduced to a pile of metal scraps with wheels. The addition of a nasty scar near his hairline wasn’t the most favourable either. His parents weren’t happy with that, nor when he hosted a house party the very next weekend that got more than just a little out of hand.

He’s glad most of the mistakes were correctable in some way. The bike definitely wasn’t salvageable, but he did eventually get a new one. Then, after the party, he had to give up a month’s allowance to mend the window he had broken after an intense game of beer pong. That month he also decided to take up a part-time job.

To put it plainly, San doesn’t make a lot of good decisions. Even after transitioning out of the angsty rebellious teen phase, trouble seems to just follow him. It’s okay with him though, he doesn’t just live with chaos, he thrives in it. Some things really do not change.

The building in front of him, previously only seen through images online stands almost confronting now. His clothes make him feel worse, like extremely out of place. They’re all wrinkled from being worn on the airplane and subway ride, and he feels the stares of people in their expensive evening wear as they walk by. It’s too late to back down now, so he reaches for his phone to inform the reason he’s here of his arrival. As he waits, San pays extra attention to his surroundings. Movies were right about one thing; New York, the city that never sleeps. He likes it, the honking cars in the distance and the occasional construction sounds are comforting in a strange way. Life at home felt too quiet, especially after you left.

He loves to be on the move, the thrill of exploring has always been dangerously enticing. San could have done that in lots of ways after high school, spontaneous road trip, booking a one-way ticket to anywhere he could think of. Temporary choices. He didn’t want that though, San wanted to live big. After more thought, transferring to a college that requires a plane ride to reach his hometown might’ve been living a little bigger than he anticipated.

He looks down at his phone, fumbling with the volume button in attempt to seem busy while he waits for a reply from his soon-to-be roommate. He hasn’t packed much, but his backpack has been weighing him down for twenty minutes after his subway commute. San checks his phone again, no reply.

There wasn’t much special about this college, education wise nothing he couldn’t have gained from any closer schools, but this one had something else. Someone else. San is well aware how moronic it is to chase after an ex (well, ex something) yet here he is, outside an apartment five miles from the campus you attend. His plan was always to move to a school further away. San’s decision to move to this school was only slightly influenced by the “vague” memory of your attendance here.

The rest of his belongings, haphazardly thrown into cardboard boxes are on the way soon, hopefully. The moving process is more complicated than San ought to have believed. He doesn’t have anything of too much value from home, except for his well-loved motorcycle. A more recent purchase, a gift to himself for finally deciding to make the big move.

A figure appears from the apartment building’s entrance and San hopes his prayers have been answered, for once. The man across from him squints his eyes curiously, recognition fills them instead after a few seconds and a grin spreads across his face.

“San, right?”

“I don’t get it; you know you could easily pay for this place yourself.” A second voice scoffs, chiming in, “Yeah, you just got the last roomie out. Why don’t you enjoy solo living for a while?” The two boys across from Mingi aren’t accusatory in tone, yet he feels it from their expression. It’s probably stupid from their view, understandably. It’s also kind of stupid from his, he’s just lonely. He can’t say that to them though. It’s hard to not sound like a wealthy prick whose upset his friends have jobs and other friends while he’s spending his days rotting away in some luxury penthouse in Brooklyn Heights.

“Dunno, save money I guess.” Wooyoung scoffs, “Complete bullshit, your parents pay for this place.” Mingi shrugs, “Saving them money, then.” Mingi watches as Wooyoung taps the boy next to him on the floor, holding his hand out. Yeosang squints up at him, elbow resting on his knee, lit joint in his hand sending smoke around in small swirls. “Puff, puff, pass fuckin’ hog.” Yeosang takes another drag, blowing a stream of smoke into the other’s face.

“Not even your stash, stop acting stingy.” Wooyoung rolls his eyes in response, bringing the stick up to his mouth as he leans back into the upholstered sofa. Mingi scowls, “Get another burn mark in this couch and I’m done with you forever.” Wooyoung hovers the lit end of the joint just above the leathered surface before the former knocks his hand away lightly. Wooyoung grins, passing Mingi the joint in surrender. He shuffles in his spot before bringing the stick to his lips between two fingers. Yeosang lays his back onto the cashmere carpet, stretching out his back.

Mingi likes the two boys. They are his friends, as much as friends who come to your place to smoke all your weed and use your fancy television can be. They keep him company, when they’re not studying or working, or at some shitty frat party. Mingi doesn’t really wish to join in on the trashy ragers they go to, it’s all cheap liquor that’ll leave him with a bad hangover. Sometimes he thinks he really does live up to the pretentious rich kid stereotype.

“So,” Yeosang continues, eyes still closed as he lies down, “Who is the new roomie?” Mingi clears his throat to respond, yet the other voice in the room interrupts. “Seriously though, who cares, I’m still grieving the last one. Missing him.”

“You’ve seen him a total of like, seven times.” Yeosang lifts his head up to give the youngest of the three a judgemental look, “Have you guys even spoken before?”

Mingi snorts, “They did, once. Hongjoong lost his key and Wooyoung let him in. He was too out of it to respond and ran to the bathroom to throw up.”  The black-haired boy scowls, “Don’t care. He was hot. Fuck happened to him?”

Mingi shrugs, he doesn’t really know much about his old roommate either. He moved in because the guy was looking for some extra studio space. Some preppy art school kid. Not a lot to know, apart from the fact he drank a little too much. And barely spoke unless he was wasted out of his mind. He didn’t mind it though, just enjoyed having someone to share his place with. To be honest, the place just feels so hollow with just him in it. Last week he had packed his stuff up, handed his key to Mingi and on his way he went. Mingi didn’t have a lot of friends, dropping out of school early kind of kickstarts that. All of Mingi’s old friends were off in foreign countries, travelling and exploring with their parent’s money, and the two with him now were always closer to each other. Not that they’d exclude him, but they were each other’s best friends.

“Long story, you guys hungry?” The two boys nod. Yeosang props himself up, “New restaurant opened up like last week down the road.” Mingi nods, moving to get up before Wooyoung sucks in a breath. “Your treat though, yeah?” He sings, patting the boy on the chest. Mingi nods letting the two make their way out first as he reaches for his wallet on the coffee table. “What are friends for?” He mutters, shoving the wallet into his pocket.

Ever since Jongho was young, he knew he belonged on the field. Football wasn’t just about the winning, the congratulations or the glory of the trophies and medals, it was more than that. He couldn’t boil it down to one thing that made football so important to him. He loved the chill against his skin as he ran across the grass, ball in his grasp as the screaming and shouting all melted in a dull buzz. He loved when after every point he scored added up onto the scoreboard, celebratory ding ringing in his ears louder than any cheers from his team or the crowd.

The game had always been his calling, the practices just as much entertainment to him. Loved the drills, again and again. First one on the field and last to leave. He was unstoppable, sum it up to physical advantage, extra training, but what he knew was that it all began with his mentality. That this was the thing nobody could take from him. Unfortunately, life will always find a way to do exactly that.

His dad, who had fuelled his love for the game for a much younger Jongho many years ago was sick. Jongho knew he was ill; he also knew that the last thing his dad would want to see was him crying at his bedside. So, he chose to be strong. Or try to, as much as one can when you want to cry and hide until the hurt in one’s heart would cease. He went to practices with his team as much as he could, tackled, defended until his body gave up. Then, he would get up and do the same thing again the very next day.

He pretended as long as he could, that nothing in his life had changed. He’d come home from practice, ask his dad if he wanted to throw the ball around with him and when his dad would shake his head and respond with a simple “Too tired, tomorrow maybe.” Jongho would smile, close the door and return to his room. It was easier, to agree his dad was tired, not sick.

It was hard to ignore other things though, like in his house. The paintings his parents bought during their trip in Greece had been sold, his mom’s engagement ring pawned off, the small tv he kept in his bedroom given away in a garage sale for practically nothing. Jongho would be stupid if he didn’t notice they were having money troubles. So, he did something he really, really didn’t want to do.

Quitting his team was one of the first times Jongho had felt completely and utterly hopeless. But he also knew it was the right thing to do. Too much money spent on his equipment and uniforms, too much time taken away that he didn’t have. So, his afternoons routinely spent sweating, running and catching transformed into mind numbing endless shifts at his local convenience store, as well as studying harder than he ever had before.

During his final semester he joined his team again, played the final games of the season but, the universe is cruel sometimes, so damn cruel. Just under a year of being off the field had set him back too far, no amount of practice could’ve helped him. The other top players of the team had received sport scholarships from some of the top schools, and he was left behind. He’s glad to have at least paid enough attention in school to receive a scholarship, an academic one for science. Without it, college fees would’ve set him back far more.

His first year of college went by with a breeze, then the universe had made its round again. Jongho’s dad had passed away, peacefully, in his sleep on New Years. His nights spent buried in books, reviewing lectures and revising for exams had turned into endless bottles of whatever he could get his hands on until he’d pass out. Then, he would get up and do the same thing again the very next day. He doesn’t talk about his dad much for obvious reasons, but by the start of his second year he had entered lectures painfully wasted or stoned out of his mind instead.

Wooyoung’s spent his whole life thinking about love. Watching it first with his parents, as his mom would look up into his dad’s eyes, fixing his tie while he tucked her hair behind her ear before they’d leave for their weekly date night. They were the classic high school sweethearts. He didn’t know exactly what love would be in store for him yet, but he knew what his parents had was simple, plain, love.

As he got older, he watched it in elementary school. More juvenile versions of it, smiles across the playground and confessions scribbled onto paper. He also remembers his first crush. She was pretty, always waved to him in middle school before running off to her friends. Wooyoung would walk the longer route to his own classes to see her as she passed him, locking eyes before one of them (usually him) would feel his breath hitch and he’d walk a little faster. They even went to their school dance together, by that he means they held hands and stood next to each other at the punch table.

They never dated but she was also his first heartbreak in a sense, thanks to the new guy that showed up and swept her off her feet by their final year of middle school. Wooyoung hadn’t cared too much after like a week, they went off to different high schools and he’d forgotten all about her. He certainly doesn’t remember much of her now, but he does remember the feeling of loving someone for the first time. Whatever illusioned version of love a person can have in their teenage years.

By the time high school ended, he’d enjoyed his fair share of relationships, fuck buddies, heartbreaks and whatever else there was in between. Unfortunately, that meant the rose-coloured lenses of his adolescence had been removed, and love had gradually become more of a whimsical fantasy than something he’d truly ever achieve. Life just got in the way most of the time, made relationships way too complicated. Therefore, in the meantime, while he waited for the special someone to come along he chose to embrace college life to the absolute fullest. Which translates to get wasted every weekend and wake up with a stranger in your bed.

“Any of you planning to get some tonight? Because I know I am,” Wooyoung winks. Mingi scoffs, picking up a slice of pizza, “Didn’t I tell you I’m not going? Those parties you and Yeosang go to are always so,” he pauses, holding his hands up to find an eloquent expression, “fucked up.” Yeosang pleads, “You can’t be lame tonight too, dude.” Placing his cup down he continues, “Wooyoung’s gonna ditch me before he’s even gotten a drink in him. Just come with.” Mingi shakes his head, “Isn’t your roommate going? Just stay with him,” he offers with a shrug.

Yeosang exhales, arms dropping to his sides, “Yes, exactly- I don’t want to be drunk around him. I swear Yunho’s straight as shit and I’m gonna try make out with him or something. You need to be there to stop me, deadass.” Mingi purses his lips, “I don’t know, new roommate’s bringing all his shit tonight and I said I was gonna help him unpack.” Wooyoung swallows his bite quickly, tilting his chin towards Mingi, “Didn’t he transfer to Columbia? He would’ve seen the flyers, I’m sure he’d be going already.”

Mingi sighs in defeat, nodding, “I’m gonna head back now. I’ll ask once I get there, text me the details yeah?” The boys break out into grins, elbowing each other in celebration. “Yeah, I got you. See you man.” Yeosang hits Mingi on the arm shooting him a small smile, while Wooyoung bids him goodbye with a tap to his behind, the two watch him leave the store before continuing to finish their food. Unfortunately for the tallest of the three, Mingi hadn’t told them how cute his new roommate was, and just how nervous he’d been around him since the first time they met.

Mingi takes a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment to pray he doesn’t embarrass himself. He shuts the door behind him before making his way to the living room. Stacks of cardboard boxes greet him, splayed out on the ground. Mingi spots books and stacks of clothing folded messily in some of the opened boxes. He furrows his brows looking around for the boy.

After toeing off his shoes, he places his keys on the counter before calling out, “Hey, San?” Shuffling is heard in the distance before Mingi turns around and finds who he’s looking for. Unfortunately for him, (fortunate for his eyes) the boy is far less clothed than he had anticipated. Holy shit. This new roommate of his is really fucking jacked. And worse, even hotter without a shirt.

“Hey! I’ll get the boxes cleared soon,” San pauses, eyes widening as he notices how Mingi is frozen in place, “Sorry um, moving just got kind of uh, hot.” He presses his lips into a thin line before gesturing towards his very half-naked body. Mingi shakes his head quickly, “No dude it’s fine, is the AC not working or, something?” Mingi realises how much he needs to peel his eyes away, so he does. Extremely unwillingly. His hands tremble as he shrugs his jacket off. Mingi turns away from man opposite him whose still very much not clothed to busy himself with a desperately needed glass of water.

San scratches the back of his neck, looking down, “I don’t really, know how to use it? Embarrassing I know, but I just have some shitty remote. Not the whole touch screen thing, not that it’s bad at all! This whole place is really great, your bedroom is really nice by the way. Not in that way! I just walked in accidentally, this place has a lot of rooms. My bedroom is really great too. Oh my god, I need to shut up. I’m sorry.”

A small chuckle escapes before Mingi can suppress it, “I’ll show you how to use it later. Have you um, unpacked enough of your clothes yet? My friends were asking if you wanted to come with us to that Columbia party tonight.” San grins in return, nodding enthusiastically, “Yeah!” he clears his throat, “Yeah, for sure. No that’s cool with me, I was planning on going already.”

“Okay, yeah. Cool. I’m gonna get changed then we can meet them there.” Mingi empties the last bit of water from his glass, watching as San rubs his now sweaty hands on the sides of his pants. He spins on his heels, returning back to boxes he was previously sorting through. Mingi mutters a quick “see you in a bit” before rushing past the other, off to his bedroom. He pushes his door shut quickly, pulling out his phone as he slides against the wall down to the floor.

mingi: fuck me yeosang: thank u god i knew this day wld come

mingi: wtf dude no

new roomie is hot as fuck yeosang: thought you finally loved me back

kidding spill

so what does he have that i dont Mingi rolls his eyes, poking his tongue to the inside of his cheek before typing frantically back.

mingi: can u shut up

i alr thought he was cute n then he walked in half naked and i Don’t Know What To Do yeosang: is he coming party tn ?

mingi: yes . i want to jump his bones

yeosang: cant wait to see that

mingi: ok voyeur kink is not needed rn

yeosang: sorry i thought this was a Safe Space

mingi: how do i live with him now

i cant be normal around hot ppl

yeosang: idk man u kno i don’t fuck the roomies for a reason

need me to keep u on lock tn ? js keep me from yunho i beg

mingi: i think ill b ok

Can i fuck yunho instead

yeosang: not funny

mingi: sorry x

wooyoung: god when is my hot roomie coming along ..

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[wyngigi]

started to look around my room for imaginary cameras. am i dreaming. god ily STOP ITTTTTT biting my nails swinging my feet rolling around in bed

wy n reader have such a dear to my heart complex dynamic to me but itll take many more chapters to see a glimpse of them like this my toxic babies

ꕀ LUST FOR LIFE ꕀ prologue

↳ sex money feelings die remastered .ᐟ cross posted on ao3

navigation┆next

“ they say only the good die young, that just ain't right 'cause we're having too much fun, too much fun tonight ”

↳ synopsis: a group of individuals find that their first taste of freedom in the world brings more obstacles than expected. some of them, find solace by drowning in liquor or in the backseat of somebody else’s car. a lot of them have got to get their shit together. a lot of them won't.

mdni » story contains nsfw content intended for 18+ audiences pairings » member specific, not listed for spoiler purposes ↳󠁪󠁪 ateez x female reader, ateez x ateez ↳ genre » coming of age ↳ word count » 1.7k ↳ general warnings » substance abuse & consumption, sexual content, morally grey characters, unreliable narrators, internalised homophobia, angst, basically every struggle young adolescence can go through

00⌇be the air i breathe

Currently, Wooyoung isn’t completely sure why he finds it suffocating to love.

He’s trying to figure it out, but too much is weighing on him right now to know for certain. Maybe it’s to do with how he’s making his way to a place he feels he’s no longer welcomed. He swears there’s ropes winding around his heart, tightening every time he takes a step forward.

Is it the vulnerability of handing your heart to another and granting them a look into the darkest parts of the mind?

Through the stained glass of the store, he spots you. In that moment he questions why he’s here again. It’s not like there’s some poster of him with a big cross slashed across his face, yet as he locks eyes with you there might as well be one.

Perhaps the simplicity of loving so hard the human body’s actions will never match it. The incapability of expression, not proving just how much he feels his soul integrated with another, for it to not be enough for them to stay. For him to just not be enough.

You both look at each other, neither making a move to acknowledge the other. He’s not expecting you to do anything, while he’s stood still in front of the opened sliding doors, you’re the one working behind the register attempting to control your breathing. It’s not that he scares you, yet the sheer sight of him after some time makes your breath hitch.

For him, love was intricate yet so simple, with no bounds, no limitations to its power. If you asked him, he would describe it as an emotion. However, he chooses to treat it as something tangible. Something he can reach out to, latching onto it with all his vigour until his knuckles whiten and his nails dig into his palms, blood drawing to the surface in crescents.

The doorbell rings while he takes his first step onto the cracked floors. His first step closer to you in a long time. The almost stale smell of the store hits him, cardboard boxes line the shelves, and he has to refrain himself from immediately offering to help you open them to put the products up.

He walks past the fridge doors, normally it would cool him down, yet the moment doesn’t allow that. An uncomfortable warmth floods his cheeks as he approaches you. He curses his body’s natural reaction to your presence. And god, is it overwhelming. He feels the tips of his ears redden, heating up and he sends a silent prayer that his hair is long enough to hide it.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you state. He knows there’s more to your words than that; a question hides behind them. Asking why he’s back; why it took so long. Now that he’s closer, he sees you avoiding his gaze, focused on your hands, picking at a painful looking hangnail. He understands that. For him, it’s that he feels if he looks at you for too long, his brain will want to hold onto you again. You’ll feel too real for him, too tangible.

“I know,” a heavy exhale escapes him before he continues, “Can I just get a-” You nod curtly, “I know,” cutting him off. He observes as you turn around swiftly to grab a pack of cigarettes off the shelves, the crinkle of the packaging feeling louder with the absence of customers. He’s not the only one who wants to avoid the reality of why he’s here after all this time.

It's the cruel ways of the universe is it not? To give humans an ability to warm another’s soul with their presence, taking pieces of each other’s heart for themselves. Thus, when the love weakens for one reason or another, becoming more distant and less fulfilling, his response will be to fight for it. Even when the love is already gone—and all left is the illusion of it.

As you place the box back onto the counter, you hold your hand out to him. This is where he tests to see how much you’ve forgiven him. They usually cost forty dollars total, so when he hands you that and sees you take change out of the register to return to him, he can’t help the small grin he breaks into. You’ve charged him the staff amount; he realises he can’t really stand here saying nothing any longer.

So, he decides to take his chance. As he reaches out to grab the change he asks you, with a small voice, “What time does your break start?” Before you’ve even answered him he adds on, “I’ll wait outside.”

He's the type that wants to pursue love, regardless of the cuts and grazes he’ll gain along the way. Because his heart wants to believe the pain of absence is worse than the pain of holding on fruitlessly. His brain knows better, understands that it’s not the truth. That even if the emptiness will stay with him for an uncertain amount of time, there is a chance for more. Yet, he decides to allow his heart to lead, to do what it does best, love.

“You didn’t have to use your discount on these for me you know,” he flips the lid of the box to grab two out, handing one to you. You hum in response, placing it between your lips while you pat down your pockets. Wooyoung grabs your jaw gently, making you face him as he lights the end of the stick with his lighter. It’s the same one he’s owned since the first time you met him. Even with the addition of some unfamiliar black and white stickers, you know it’s the same because of the messy carvings on the side. JWY with a plus sign, your initials following shortly after.

“I know,” you pause, inhaling before letting the smoke drift upwards, “you didn’t have to come back either, but you wanted to. So yeah, you got a discount.” You were always like that, letting your true thoughts reveal themselves in the words unspoken. He hated when you did it at first, now he understands you. He nods, allowing the quiet buzz of the streetlights to fill the silence between you two. You were thankful for that, unsure of what words would next leave your mouth.

He watched as you turned your body to face him, feet kicked up onto the bench while your knees were tucked to your chest. The cold air of the night nips at you, he knows from the way you rub your shoulders. He’s unsure if it’s too soon to offer his jumper to you, or worse, to try and close the gap between where you both sit.

Occasionally, he’d dig his shoe into the cracks of the bricked footpath or bounce his leg up and down. His feelings were always present in his body language, nervousness on display. You brought your arm up onto the bench’s backrest, head leaning on it while you picked at the paint chips that were lifting up, your other arm loosely wrapped around your shins.

Wooyoung grabbed his cigarette with two fingers, hand now resting on his thigh. Clearing his throat, he murmured softly, “Do you think people love too much sometimes?” As you registered his question, he rotated his body to face you. His eyes held a sorrow heaviness to them, pupils darting back and forth between yours. You shook your head softly, “Not possible. Love always has to be too much, some people just aren’t used to feeling of having so much given to them, that it becomes scary. If it’s not, then it simply couldn’t be love.”

He nods, eyes tracing over your uniform. He knew you despised blue, so he can tell you wouldn’t wear it if it wasn’t necessary. “Thought your boss didn’t make you wear that thing anymore?” You chuckled; a brief smile stretches across your face. “He doesn’t. Laundry machine’s broken again, and if you remember, the laundromat’s a little too far to walk.”

Right, he’s the one who would drive you whenever the damned machine would give up on you. He doesn’t fully grasp why you won’t get rid of it though; given that it’s let you down enough and he’s seen you have more than a few meltdowns over it.

Then again, the same—if not more—could be said for how he’s treated you over the last few years. And yet, here he is, consistently by your side. The thought provokes him to take another drag; a longer one. It burns his throat and lungs more than usual.

That night, as the two of you sit on that worn-out bench, he realises something. The thought comes to him as he notices you discard your cigarette butt to the ground, crushing it with your heel just to reach for the box again. You both did that, obviously. Every time one burns out, a new one takes its place.

Every time his own two feet lead him to the store, back to you, it’s him helping wind that damned rope around his heart. He’s aware of that now, yet he doesn’t leave you by yourself on that bench. Instead, he picks up the small box separating you two and brings his arm around you. Your body feels harshly cold against his. It shouldn’t be comfortable—it’s not—but he finds himself leaning into the feeling more.

As he brings the next cigarette to his lips, you hold his lighter up to the end of it. The flame waves around in front of him, making his face uncomfortably warm. As you both exhale, the smoke wraps around the two of you. It’s alright though, even if he can’t register if it’s you or the smoke suffocating him now. With just how much he relies on you, he would pray you don’t leave him, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t need to. He treats the smoke and the crisp winter air the same way you treat him as he stands like a lost puppy outside of your workplace. Uninvited, yet allowed in regardless. Without any real protest.

Wooyoung wonders if that’s the real problem. Not how suffocating love is, but when too much love no longer instils any fear in him.

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[wyngigi]

i just want to mention and highlight how disappointed i am within the kpop fandom. its not like im expecting a lot, however when theres sexy men like him i do wish for some sort of notice bc ive been missing out on this delicious face economy of his. do better guys.

JONGSEOB ◇ SAD SONG @ MUSIC BANK 241004

[wyngigi]

やれやれ~

[wyngigi]

“He just loves music and has a lot of interest in culture. He just seemed like a bright boy”

[wyngigi]

plumverse supremacy everybody

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ plumverse ~ masterlist

welcome to creu *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ multiple series, one world.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ does not need to be read in order *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

1960s ~

ೃ⁀➷ me & the devil - { skz - minsung } - Jisung’s dreams are an arms length away, lying in the hands of his superior who gives him a test, one that challenges everything he’s ever known, a taste of a life so intriguing. It’s only a matter of time before he’s faced with a choice… Who’s hands does he take?

pinterest board | tag

1990s ~

ೃ⁀➷ haven / taste - { skz - h.hj / l.mh } - Like magnets, the push and pull of an addictively toxic relationship is relentless, never ending. It doesn't help that the men you're involved with are both equally good at their game... And apparently, so are you.

character guide | pinterest board | haven tag / taste tag

2000s ~

ೃ⁀➷ no matter what i do - { txt - k.th / c.bg / c.sb } - love triangles. the blurriest lines. broken hearts. pure, raw, lust fueled passion.

character guide | pinterest board | tag

ೃ⁀➷ nice for what - { atz - j.wy / j.yh } - That one fucked you over last year, this one is fucking you over this year, you had no idea she was involved with him, someone over here has been lying to you, you didn't mean to end up in that ones bed, he told you he loved you... Does anyone even trust anyone anymore?

character guide | pinterest board | tag

ೃ⁀➷ home;run - { svt - c.hs / k.mg } - College didn't work out, so you're stuck with the next best thing. Living with your superstar brother, traveling with his championship winning team, haunted by your past and heavily influenced by your present.

character guide | pinterest board | tag

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟmore ~ ao3 / talk to me

characters | about creu | name meanings | plumverse tag

please do not repost/translate my works anywhere without my permission.

[wyngigi]

i m the love bot leaving kisses on ur forehead

mwah

this is so cute tysm mwa